I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal / Chapter 5: The Great Escape Plan
I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal

I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal

Author: Grace Davis

Chapter 5: The Great Escape Plan

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After the chaos, I went back to my room and shared my plan with my wife.

Autumn was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands shaking.

"Autumn, I'll need you to pack up all our valuables in the next few days. We'll move everything to my company's warehouse and have someone guard it."

She looked at me, confusion and worry etched on her face.

"Huh? Why?"

Her voice was small, uncertain.

"I think we should find a new place to live. It's not safe here anymore."

I tried to keep my voice steady, reassuring.

We sat together, going over the numbers, making lists.

And as long as I kept working, we could always make more money.

I reminded her that we’d built everything from scratch before—we could do it again. The important thing was that we were together.

I held her hand, feeling sorry for her. "Honey, you married far from home—three hundred miles away. It's been so hard on you. I'm planning to move us back to your hometown. After all, your parents only have you. We'll buy a new place and live with your mom and dad. I'll gradually move the factory there too—lower costs, better quality of life."

She looked at me, tears shining in her eyes.

Her eyes were full of doubt. "What about this house? Caleb, I know how much it means to you. When we bought it, renovated, picked out furniture—we nearly ran ourselves ragged. It took two years to get it right, and we've lived here for almost ten. How could we not have feelings for it?"

Her voice trembled, full of longing.

I looked out at the big yard and sighed. "What's the point of being attached? If we don't move, life will be impossible."

I let my gaze linger on the garden, the old oak tree Madison loved to climb.

"What about your dad?"

She asked it quietly, concern for me clear in her voice. I shrugged, feeling lighter than I had in years.

"He can do whatever he wants."

I've never been close to him. As a father, he never worked a real job a day in his life. Even when we barely had enough to eat, he wouldn't bring home a dime, and his temper was awful—always taking it out on me. After Mom died, no one kept him in check. He got even crazier, treating those outsiders better than his own son. To me, having a useless dad just brought more headaches—what good was he?

I let the bitterness spill out, years of resentment finally finding a voice.

All I inherited from him was his DNA—what else do I owe him?

I looked at my hands, at Madison playing on the floor.

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