Six Months Of Silence. One Shocking Truth. My Father Was Gone—But The Story Wasn’t
Story: S A Spencer
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I did not speak to my parents for six months, Now, all I
have are, unanswered questions. I am Lillian. I celebrated my 19th
birthday, when this story began in my life. I want to tell you something, that
happened recently. It is a story about love, and a big mistake. Mistake? No, it
is, in fact, a blunder, that would hunt me, for my life.
Want to dig in more? Please stay
with me until the end.
I'm my parents' only child, born
after they'd given up hope of having a baby.
By the time I turned 19, my father was 60 and my mother 58. They weren't
controlling at all; being an only child, they adored me and spent lots of
quality time with me. Even when my friends moved out, my father encouraged me
to stay longer. He also funded my university education, saving me from
crippling student debt. I excelled at school, and although I had many male
friends, I never had a boyfriend. I always believed someone special would come
along.
Then, a charming, captivating man
entered my life. I eagerly introduced
Tristan Wolfe to my parents, expecting a warm welcome. However, when Tristan shook my father's hand,
my dad's usual smile disappeared.
Despite this, he was welcoming,
and Mum prepared a lovely dinner. Later,
Dad showed Tristan the guest room for the night, much to Tristan's displeasure;
he'd hoped to sleep in my room. Bidding
him goodnight, he kissed me passionately, whispering, "Your parents are
rich, and I don't want to offend them." He tried to make a good impression
despite sleeping in a separate room.
Returning to my bedroom, next to
my parents', after saying goodnight to Tristan, I overheard them talking.
Dad told Mum, "That boy
seems manipulative. I can't trust him with Lillian. She has a bright future,
she's an excellent student. He'll ruin everything."
Mum asked, "How do you
know?"
Dad replied, "Gut
feeling."
I couldn't sleep that night. It wasn't that I believed him, but I resented
his snap judgment after just one meeting. I suspected jealousy; a boy taking
his precious girl away.
The next morning, after Tristan
left, I confronted Dad. I announced Tristan's plan to move in.
Dad paled. "That's a
terrible idea," he said. "Having a boyfriend is great, every girl
does it, but remember, he's not your whole life. You're a brilliant student;
focus on your studies and career. And get to know him better. Living together
so young is a huge mistake."
I argued back, "Do you think
I'm incapable of making my own decisions? I turned eighteen a year ago!"
But Dad remained firm, refusing
to let Tristan move in.
I stayed quiet. One night, with Dad away, Mum came to my room
and asked to talk. I knew it was about Tristan.
"Every young person searches
for a partner," she began. "I did too, just like you."
I liked her approach; it was
different from Dad's.
She continued, "Remember,
don't rush into anything. I learned that
the hard way. My first three relationships were mistakes, but I moved on. When I met your dad, I knew what true love
was."
I replied, "I'm nineteen;
I'm mature."
Mum smiled, "Maturity isn't
just about age, it's about learning from mistakes. Take your time with this."
The next morning, I surprised my
parents by moving out with Tristan to a different city.
I dropped out of school; he
claimed only middle-class people wasted years studying. He was my guiding force, and my parents'
well-meaning advice felt suffocating.
I cut my parents off completely,
forbidding contact, and blocking their numbers.
Despite this, Dad tried calling, concealing his number. Instead of talking, I threatened to report
him for harassment. Tristan became my
whole world, while my parents felt distant and estranged.
My life with Tristan was
idyllic. His love was all I wanted; it
felt like salvation, fulfilling all my dreams.
He showered me with flowers daily, gifts every other day, and we dined
at fancy restaurants constantly.
One day I asked, "Tristan, when
you were in Sydney, you shared a rental to save money. Where's all this money
coming from?"
He replied, "I'm in the
import-export business with several partners; it's very successful."
I was satisfied with his reply. I
confessed, "I made the right choice cutting ties with my parents."
He joked, "They're wealthy!
You should keep in touch, even if you dislike them – inherit those
millions!"
We both laughed.
Time slipped away.
One day, he left his phone by the
sofa while in the bathroom; it rang. I answered, saying Tristan would call back
shortly. He never left his phone
unattended. Hearing the ring, he rushed out, visibly shocked I'd answered. He
said nothing, but his unhappiness was clear.
That was the first day I saw a different
Tristan; the start of a rift between us.
The cracks widened.
Tristan's charm vanished,
revealing a controlling and manipulative personality. He checked my phone,
restricted my social life, and began controlling every aspect of my existence.
I felt suffocated but was too proud to acknowledge my error.
One evening, I overheard Tristan
having a heated phone conversation. He was talking about a deal gone wrong, and
large sums of money.
Curiosity piqued, I decided to
dig deeper.
I discovered his laptop was left
unlocked one night. Nervously, I browsed through his files and found evidence
of his involvement in fraudulent activities, including scamming vulnerable
people out of their life savings.
My world shattered as I realized my
parents had been right all along.
Before I could confront Tristan,
a twist of fate intervened. One day, while shopping at the market, I bumped
into my old friend, Emily. She looked shocked to see me and offered condolences
for my father’s passing. I was stunned; I had no idea. Determined to find out
more, I rushed back to my hometown.
The house I grew up in was locked
and lifeless. The neighbours informed me that my mother had moved out after
father’s death. Distraught and with no one to turn to, I decided to gather more
information on Tristan’s activities and report him to the authorities.
My investigation led me to a
secret storage unit rented under a false name. Inside, I found a treasure trove
of evidence—documents, fake IDs, and even stacks of cash. Armed with this
information, I contacted the police. I felt a mix of fear and relief as I
realized I was finally taking control of my life.
The police raid was swift. Tristan
was arrested and exposed for the fraud he was.
My courage had put an end to his
schemes, but the cost had been high. I had lost a year of my life and my
father.
With Tristan behind bars, I knew
it was time to find Mum and make amends. My search took me to a small house in
a neighbouring town. When I knocked on the door, mother opened it, eyes filled
with a mix of surprise and sorrow.
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I whispered,
tears streaming down my face. mother hugged me tightly, and we both cried for
the lost time and the pain we had endured.
Over the following weeks, bathed
in the warm afternoon sun, Mum and I slowly rebuilt our relationship. The gentle ticking of the grandfather clock
marked the slow passage of time as I learned about Father’s final days, a
weight lifting from my chest with each shared memory. Mother's quiet strength, a comforting
presence, filled the room with a sense of peace. We found solace in each other's embrace, and began to heal.
I decided to channel my pain into
something positive. I started a support group for people affected by fraud,
using my experience to help others. It wasn’t an easy journey, but with
mother’s support, I found a new purpose in life.
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