When my 13-year-old son, Kyle, began staying late after school and avoiding questions, I grew suspicious. One day, I followed him
and saw him get into a black SUV that led to a mansion. At the door, an elegant woman tried to turn me away, but Kyle insisted I be let in.
Inside, I was stunned to see Kyle’s father — the man who left before he was born. He claimed he’d “found”
us and wanted to “make things right” by giving Kyle a better life, boasting he could win custody with his wealth.
Before I could answer, Kyle spoke firmly: “You think I want to live here? I only took your gifts to sell
them and help Mom with bills. You’re nothing to me.” My heart swelled with pride as we walked out together.
The next day, a bag of cash arrived with a note: “Forgive me. I just wanted to make things right.” Kyle refused, saying, “We have each other.”
He was right — but I also knew this money could help us start fresh. Our real wealth was knowing we’d always stand side by side.
