I Bought My Daughter’s Freedom / Chapter 2: Bought and Saved
I Bought My Daughter’s Freedom

I Bought My Daughter’s Freedom

Author: Johnny Berry

Chapter 2: Bought and Saved

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Back when Lauren was ten, her biological father showed up at the diner, begging a loan shark for help—he owed $15,000.

It was a rainy Tuesday, the kind that soaks through your bones. I remember it like it was yesterday. Her father stumbled in, reeking of whiskey and desperation. The loan shark followed, sharp suit and sharper eyes, tapping his fingers on the counter. Lauren hid behind the jukebox, watching everything with wide, frightened eyes.

He was wasted, didn't have a dime. He said he had no money—then offered his daughter to pay off the debt.

The loan shark sneered, "Get lost. What, you think she's worth something?"

He spat the words, flicking his cigarette into my trash can. The place stank of fear.

She begged him, tears streaming down her face.

The drunk’s eyes went mean. He slapped Lauren several times, then kicked her for good measure. I couldn't take it.

The blows landed hard. I saw her crumple, heard the sharp gasp of pain. My wife lost it.

My wife and I couldn’t stand it anymore. We drove him out and pulled Lauren behind us, shielding her. We weren't letting him near her again.

We stood between Lauren and her father, refusing to budge. He wasn't taking her. He cursed, tried to push past, but we held firm. The other customers watched, silent, unsure what to do.

He tried to cut a deal. The drunk, seeing a glimmer of hope, turned to me. “If you care so much, just buy her. Only fifteen grand.”

He grinned wickedly. I hated him.

He leaned in, breath sour, trying to make a deal. Fifteen grand for a child.

We couldn't let her go. Seeing poor Lauren cowering in my wife’s arms, tears streaming down her face, my wife nodded at me.

Her eyes met mine, silent but pleading. We had to do something. We couldn't let this child go back to that monster. I squeezed her hand, making my decision.

I did what I had to do. I sold the diner, scraped together $15,000, and made him put it in writing.

It took every cent we had. We started over.

And just like that, Lauren became our daughter. She was ours.

We took her home that night, made up the guest room with fresh sheets and a stuffed bear. She was safe. She cried herself to sleep, but in the morning, she smiled at us over pancakes. It was the start of something new—for all of us.

We hustled, rain or shine. Over the years, my wife and I started over with a food truck, saved up bit by bit, and eventually opened another diner.

But what made us proudest was seeing Lauren grow up safe and strong—and get into a great university. She made it.

Her acceptance letter was taped to the fridge for months. She was the first.

Then my wife got sick. Two years ago she fell ill and has been bedridden at home ever since. This time, Lauren was home on break, helping me at the diner.

Lauren took on more than she should have—caring for her mom, running orders, studying late into the night. She never complained.

Lauren touched the red marks on her neck and said quietly, “The necklace they stole—Mom left it for me.” It was all she had left.

I remembered clearly—on the day we officially adopted Lauren, my wife put the family heirloom necklace around her neck. She wore it every day.

I promised her I'd get it back.

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