Granddad Forbids Anyone to Touch His Old Mattress, Girl Finds Stash There after His Death – Story of the Day

Brooke inherits her grandfather's house after his death and peeks under his old mattress only to discover his secret stash. When the contents inside reveal her grandfather has lied about their family's past, Brooke is compelled to uncover the truth on her own.

The door opened with a creak as Brooke stepped inside. The house looked sad. She missed those days when Charles would come running up to her, hug her, and tell her how much he missed her.

Brooke didn't see her grandfather very often after she moved out. Now that he was gone, this house was all she had of him.

They had made so many memories here. Charles became her father, mother, and best friend after her parents died in a car crash when she was just four.

As Brooke looked around the space now where dust and cobwebs had started making a home for themselves, she suddenly remembered. "Grandpa's mattress!"

Brooke had always wondered why he never allowed anyone to touch it.

Charles hadn't always been like that. However, she couldn't help but notice that he'd never let anyone near his bed in recent years.

Even his nurse, Stacey, who was caring for him in his final days, felt it was strange.

Brooke went upstairs to his room, and there it was...the old mattress on his bed.

Brooke removed all the bedcovers before lifting the mattress. Under it was an old Manila envelope.

"This is what Grandpa was hiding all along?" she frowned, wondering what was so special about the envelope that he had to hide it there.

As she lifted it, she realized it was a bit heavy.

The envelope had turned a dirty yellow.

Brooke quickly turned it over on the bed, and a diary, a couple of photographs, and newspaper clippings fell out.

Brooke sat on the bed, inspecting them. It looked like her grandfather had been keeping track of something.

The pictures showed a necklace, which she had never seen before. Then she opened the diary, and her eyes widened in horror.

"Mom? Dad?" she gasped. "Oh my God!"

Brooke's eyes welled up, and her hands went to her mouth in shock as she stared at the horrifying pictures inside the diary. It showed her parents in the car crash.

There was blood everywhere, and her parents...Brooke's heart ached for the pain they must have felt.

"Oh, I miss you guys," she whispered. "Sometimes, I wish you were here…"

Brooke then went through the newspaper clippings, noticing that some mentioned her parents' accident. The other few, however, discussed the arrest of Brandon Miles.

Brooke was confused. What was her grandfather planning to do with all of this? She flipped the pages of his diary and found strange entries Charles had made:

• Page 1:

Motive…BM? Because of imprisonment? Talk to the guy.

• Page 2:

1980 case files…Call Ron and check

• Page 3:

(New. O.) 234-668… A phone number was scribbled there.

"Why would Grandpa keep all of this with him? Was he investigating Mom and Dad's accident? Why?" Brooke wondered in shock.

Curiosity got the best of her. She looked through the entire dairy to see if she could find anything else, but she couldn't. It was empty.

Brooke sighed helplessly. Maybe she would never figure out what Charles was up to because he was gone. But then it hit her.

She could try calling the number in the diary.

Brooke pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

Several rings went through, but no one answered.

Brooke didn't give up.

"Come on! Pick up!" She called the third time and finally heard a voice, "Yes?"

"Hello? Who's this?" she asked quickly.

"You've reached Oliver. How can I help you?" The man on the other end of the line asked.

"Hi, Oliver. Uh, look, I-I know this is going to sound strange, but I wanted to ask if you know any Charles? Charles Saunders. He was my grandfather, and—"

"Charles? Are you Brooke? Is that really you?" He asked, suddenly sounding surprised.

"You know me? I'm sorry, but I've never heard about you before, Oliver. Grandpa never mentioned you, so I can really use some explanation here," she said. "Have we met before?"

"I'm a bit disappointed you don't remember his best friend and partner, Brooke," Oliver replied. "We were this cool cop pair—"

"Wait a minute. Did you say 'cop?' Like a real police officer?"

"Yes, Brooke. When we were in the police force, Charles and I were partners. You were just a kid back then...Perhaps that's why you don't remember me."

"Grandpa was a cop? That…is so shocking," Brooke was stunned. "Th-The Grandpa I know owned a grocery, Oliver. In fact, he was someone who always wanted a calm and peaceful life. He hated watching the news because he said he couldn't take in all the violence that happens every day. And now I came to his house, and I found this strange diary, and that's how I got your number. Looks like he was looking into my parents' deaths in recent years."

"Wait, where's Charles?" Oliver asked. "Why don't you ask him?"

"He…" Brooke paused. "He passed away. It was cancer…He battled for a few years."

"Charles is dead? Oh dear," Brooke heard Oliver sighing. "I'm so sorry, Brooke. He was a good cop and a dear friend once upon a time. I think he didn't tell you…" There was a brief pause before Charles continued.

"That-that your parents' deaths…it wasn't just an accident?"

"What?" Brooke felt like she was having a nightmare where every aspect of her life was a question mark now. Charles had told her her parents had died in an accident and never told her he was in the police force.

"Oliver, what's going on?" she asked. "If my parents didn't die in an accident, what happened to them?"

"I don't know everything, sweetheart," Oliver said sadly. "But I can tell you what I know. About 20 years ago, Charles decided to quit the police force…"

20 years ago…

The bell on the diner's entrance chimed as Charles walked in.

"Look, who's here!" Oliver rose to his feet, extending his arms for a hug. "Happy birthday, pal!"

Oliver and Charles exchanged a hug, after which they settled at the window table. Every morning before heading to the station, the two cops visited the diner to grab their breakfast and coffee.

"For the birthday boy!" Oliver chuckled as the waitress placed a plate of pancakes with a lighted candle on the table and walked away.

"We're too old for this thing, Oliver," Charles shook his head and chuckled, but he blew the candle and even made a wish since he knew he didn't have a choice while Oliver was there.

"For you…" Oliver then grinned and slid a present toward him. "Happy birthday!"

"Nah, man, I can't take it," Charles said, but Oliver talked him into accepting the gift. So Charles said the breakfast was on him.

"So…any news from your son?" Oliver broke the silence as they were eating. "Is he coming?"

Charles grinned. "Guess what?" he asked with a smirk.

"No way!" Oliver chuckled. "Brooke, too?"

"Yep!" Charles nodded and smiled. "I'm taking the other half of the day off."

Charles was a busy man who could barely make time for his family. He had been planning on visiting his son's family for a while now, but his cop duty barely gave him the time. He was elated when his son called and said he was visiting him for his birthday.

"Good for you, man! Have fun!" Oliver replied. They finished their breakfast and headed to their car.

Charles was going through a crucial case file at the police station when his landline rang.

"Yes, yes! We are on our way!"

Charles and Oliver got into their police cruiser and headed to the location where a major accident had occurred. A car had rammed into a speeding truck.

As they arrived at the location, they pulled over and got down, walking briskly through the crowd toward the crime scene.

But when Charles noticed the car involved in the accident, his knees buckled and gave way. "No, God, no!" He fell to his knees, sobbing.

The car was entirely crushed on the side, and the windshield was shattered. No one could've survived that accident.

"Hey, Charles…Wha-what's wrong, mate?" Oliver knelt next to his partner but did not know what was happening. It was when Charles sobbed and said, "My son..." Oliver realized what had happened.

Soon, they noticed two gurneys transporting bodies from the car.

"Hey, wait!" Charles sprang to his feet and dashed to the gurneys, but it wasn't long before Oliver had to grab him to keep him from falling.

The wind blew aside the white sheet hiding the dead bodies. One was his son, Morris, and the other was his daughter-in-law, Bridget.

"Wait! Whe-where is Brooke?" A wave of dread swept over Charles as he recalled his granddaughter.

"Where is she? Where is my granddaughter?" he screamed, and a paramedic pointed to the ambulance.

Brooke sat in the ambulance, her head bandaged and tears streaming down her face. Bridget had protected Brooke, so the little girl wasn't hurt. But unfortunately, Bridget didn't make it.

"Grampa!" Brooke burst into tears as she saw Charles.

"Oh my God, darling! You're OK!" was all Charles could say as he hugged her close to himself.

Charles hated himself that day. If only it weren't for his birthday, his son and daughter-in-law wouldn't have decided to visit him and met with the fateful accident. Charles's life was no longer the same.

He took in little Brooke, but the road ahead wasn't easy. He didn't know how to explain to her that her mother and father were not coming back. Eventually, he convinced her that angels had taken them away, deciding to tell her the truth when she was old enough to comprehend it.

Thankfully, Charles had a kind neighbor who agreed to watch Brooke when he would be busy at the station.

Two weeks after the horrific tragedy, Charles was going through the accident case evidence, the last of what was left of his son and daughter-in-law.

His eyes were moist, and he didn't want to believe they were gone. He was shocked when he read the report stating a break failure had caused their accident. Suddenly, something else caught Charles's attention.

One of the evidence bags had a blood-stained necklace — a unique type of Figaro chain.

Charles flipped it over in his hands. He'd seen it before, but he couldn't recall where.

It wasn't until he looked at the newspaper talking about Brandon's arrest that he realized who it belonged to.

Charles stormed to the detention cell where Brandon, a heinous criminal, was being held. Brandon was a drug dealer and robber, and Charles was the reason why Brandon was behind bars.

"Welcome, Charles!" smiled the thug. "How did you remember me today?"

"How dare you lay a hand on my family?!" Charles clenched his fist and barked. "Why did you kill my son and daughter-in-law? Tell me, or I'm going to—"

"Are you kidding?" Brandon smirked. "I can't do it while I'm trapped here! C'mon, you're better than this, Charles!"

Charles tossed the necklace onto his face. "One of your bloody guys did it! I know only your guys carry this around! You better spill the name, Brandon, or I swear on my family, you're not getting out alive!"

"Was your son in pain when he died? You paid for what you did, Charles," Brandon smirked again, and Charles lost it.

"Hey Charles! What are you doing here?" Oliver called out to him, but Charles wasn't listening.

He got inside Brandon's cell and began thrashing the guy. Oliver and the other cops tried to intervene, but Charles was in a dark place from where he wouldn't return until he had bashed Brandon to his heart's content.

"Get off of him, Charles! You're going to kill him!" After much effort, Oliver eventually pulled Charles out of the cell. But the situation didn't sit well with the chief. He summoned Charles to his office and suspended him.

"You are not allowed in here until you learn the lesson, Charles," the man told him. "I hope this teaches you that nobody, not even the cops, can take the law into their own hands."

Charles walked out of the station, but he wasn't leaving empty-handed.

"Don't do this, Charles! Come on! We need you," Oliver tried to persuade him not to resign as Charles packed his belongings into a cardboard box. But Charles left the station and the police force forever.

However, he didn't give up on the case. His son and daughter-in-law's killer was still on the run, and Charles would not rest until he found out who killed his loved ones.

"You really shouldn't have quit, pal," Charles and Oliver met at a bar one night. Several days had gone since Charles quit, and he didn't want to meet anyone. He had only agreed to see Oliver because he needed help.

"I need you to get Brandon to talk," Charles told him. "He's involved with what happened."

"They moved him to another cell after you beat him up," Oliver groaned, shaking his head. "And I don't think he'll be ready to meet me or anyone else about it after what you did."

"That bastard knows the truth, Oliver!" Charles slammed the beer glass on the table. "He knows what happened! Do this for Brooke!" he softened his tone. "Please!"

Oliver chugged his beer and sighed.

"Alright," he replied. "I'll try, Charles, but I can't promise you anything. OK?"

The following day, Oliver called Charles.

"So, what's the news? Did he spill anything?" Charles asked hopefully.

"The guy's dead," Oliver revealed, sending a shiver down Charles's neck. "They rushed him to the hospital, but it was too late. Doctors found poison traces in his blood. Mostly, one of the inmates did it. Man had enemies."

"What the hell! That scoundrel can't die like that!" Charles grumbled, but nothing would change. He was back to square one. The one person who could tell him about Morris's and Bridget's killer was no longer alive.

Charles couldn't sleep a wink that night. He poured over all his collections of Brandon — the clippings, the case files, everything — to find anything that would lead him closer to the truth.

Suddenly, he heard a crashing noise and a scream...It had come from Brooke's room!

"Brooke!" Charles dashed to her room and saw a person clad in all black hurriedly climb out the window.

Brooke was on the bed, curled in a corner under her blanket. Charles would've gone after the guy, but his granddaughter needed him more.

"Oh, you're OK, darling," he held her close. "You're fine. Don't worry, I'm here."

"Did you see him?" Charles asked her when she was a little calm. "Did you see his face, Brooke?"

Brooke shook her head. "Grampa…I-I'm scared," was all she said.

Charles was so heartbroken for her that he silently cried. He knew Brooke was no longer safe with him.

The night was drenched in pouring rain, thunder echoing through the sky in low rumbles, while thick water curtains veiled the surroundings. Charles drove to his ex-wife Marla's house in the heavy rain.

As he pulled over, he scooped Brooke in his arms, dashed to her door, and rang the bell.

"Charles?" Marla was shocked when she appeared in the doorway. "Oh God, Brooke? What's going on?"

"Keep her with you." He handed Brooke over to her. "She's not safe with me."

"Wait," Marla grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. "Come in. Dry yourself."

Charles didn't want to, but he couldn't refuse. Marla offered him some tea and sat across from him. Brooke was watching TV and having a cup of hot chocolate.

"Look, Charles, I'm not your wife anymore, but just by the look on your face, I can tell you something's wrong," she said. "If you want, you can talk about it. I'm all ears."

Charles didn't want to bother her, but he really needed to tell someone what was happening with them.

"Someone tried to kidnap Brooke from her room," he finally revealed with a sigh. "I-I'm worried about her."

"What?" Marla gasped quietly as she turned briefly to look at Brooke. "Oh dear, tha-that is horrible! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I went to her room just in time, but the guy got away," Charles said. "I want you to look after Brooke. I'll take her to Oliver tomorrow morning. She'll be safe there…"

Present-day…

"You probably don't remember me because you were just a little girl, Brooke," Oliver said.

"Charles dropped you off at my house the next morning. He asked me to watch over you because he thought you'd be safe with a cop. But not long after, Charles decided to drop the investigation. He didn't want to lose you, Brooke. You were all he had.

"And, you know, he moved to a different part of town, away from his old life, away from everything he thought might harm you. He never contacted me after that, but I assumed he'd tell you about me."

"Oh God. Thi-this is insane. So nobody knows who killed my parents and tried to kidnap me?"

"I wish I could help you with that, Brooke," Oliver said. "It's been 20 years. Whoever did it might be dead for all I know. After Brandon died in prison, even this case died with him."

"I don't think so, Oliver," Brooke said confidently. "I can't just let it go after I know that my parents were killed! It was nice talking to you, and thank you for whatever you did. See you around."

Brooke had to figure out what was going on. She hung up the phone and went through Charles's house, looking for any additional evidence. Hours went by, but it was futile.

Brooke realized there was only one person now who could give her the answers she needed.

Brooke collected the evidence she had about her parents' deaths and drove to her grandmother's house.

"Brooke, hun!" Marla's face lit up when she saw her. "Oh, come on in!"

Marla served her some tea. Brooke seldom visited her grandmother, but they had met briefly at Charles's funeral.

"Grandma, 20 years ago, the night Grandpa brought me here after someone tried to kidnap me, did he tell you anything about Mom and Dad's accident?" she asked.

"Wh-why would you ask that after all this while?" Brooke noticed her grandmother's face fall.

"Did you know Mom and Dad…" Brooke paused. "Did you know they were killed?"

Marla's eyes darted to the floor for answers while rubbing her palms nervously. But she wasn't shocked, so Brooke knew her grandmother was hiding something.

"Answer me, Grandma! Did you know?"

"Your grandpa called me a few days after he had taken you to his friend's house," Marla finally revealed. "He said he was worried about you, and he was crying…I'd never seen Charles cry before…" she trailed off.

"He was upset because he dropped the investigation, right?"

"You know that?" Marla was taken aback. "Brooke, don't get yourself into this."

"No, tell me everything that happened after that, Grandma. He was sad because he couldn't find the killer, and then?"

"Yes," Marla replied. "He was crushed, and so was I. Oh, my dear boy was gone. He was not coming back, and your mother…she was a darling, honey. And I'd lost them both. Charles and I divorced way before Morris got married, so I wasn't very close to your mother, but she was still family."

"Did Grandpa ever give you anything regarding the case?" Brooke asked, pulling out the things she had found at Charles's house. "Looks like he couldn't convince himself to get rid of the evidence. Even I can't. I need to find out what happened to Mom and Dad."

"But darling, there's no point going back in time," Marla shook her head. "It won't bring them back."

"But we can't give up, Gran," she held her hand. "Please. Did Grandpa ever mention anything…Did he mention a certain Brandon?"

"I don't know about any Brandon guy," Marla replied. "As you know, Charles and I were very distant after we divorced. I was taken by surprise when he showed up at my door that night. But…" Marla paused. "I think I have something of him. He gave it to me and asked me to keep it. It was a box."

"A box?"

"Where would it be?" Marla asked herself. "One second, I'll be right back," she told Brooke.

Marla returned a couple of minutes later.

"Here you go," she said, handing over a rusted box to Brooke.

"Charles just dropped by one day and told me it was important and that he would need it later. He said he couldn't keep it with him as he was worried it might get stolen or lost. But then, he dropped the investigation, and I never mentioned the box to him. We both kind of forgot about it."

Brooke opened the box immediately to find a few monochrome pictures of a young guy and an old piece of paper…It looked like a receipt. Most of the ink on the tiny bit of paper was gone, but she could make out it was a bill from a restaurant. And on the back of it was just a name—Anthony.

"Do you know any Anthony?" Brooke asked her as she studied the bill. "Maybe he was Grandpa's friend? And this guy…Is he Anthony?" Brooke extended the pictures to Marla, but the older woman shook her head. "I don't think I've ever heard of that name before, dear. And I really don't know who this man is."

"Well, the restaurant on the bill is some Coco's...But the writing's gone after that," Brooke sighed helplessly, her eyes fixed on the bill.

"Can it be Coco's Diner…that eatery?" Marla suggested. "Charles and his buddies used to go there. They serve the best fish and chips! It must be that place!"

"So…maybe this is a receipt from the diner, and maybe I can find more about this Anthony guy there."

"Brooke, your grandfather would've wanted you to be safe. I don't know…I don't get a good feeling about what you're doing!" Marla told her.

"You helped me a lot, Gran," Brooke said, ignoring the older woman's advice. "But I have to do this for Mom and Dad."

Brooke looked up the restaurant's address online as she got into her car. Fortunately, it was not shut down. She entered the address into her GPS and drove to the eatery.

The building didn't look very different from how it did 20 years ago. It was a tiny brick-red structure.

As Brooke walked in, the aroma of chicken and fresh french fries hit her senses. She was heading toward the reception when she bumped into an older man. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized immediately.

"It's OK, young miss. Looks like you're in a hurry," he said gently. "I'm Freddie, the owner. Can I help you with something?"

"You're the owner?" Brooke's face lit up. "Nice to meet you, Freddie! Actually, you can help me a lot! Does anyone on your staff go by the name Anthony? I have this receipt," she took it from her purse and gave it to him. "It's a bit old...But it had his name written on it, so I guessed he was somehow related to this place."

Freddie paused. "Well, I think we did have a waiter with that name years ago..." he recalled.

"I don't know how long ago, though. But, you know, he was so odd, and maybe that's why I remember him so well. He was a hardworking guy. But one day, he just stopped coming. He didn't collect his wage, and he didn't even tell us why he was leaving. He wasn't around for very long. I assumed he'd found something else...a better job. That happens all the time in this line of business."

"Do you have any number or address so I could contact him?" she asked.

"It's been quite a few years, miss," he smiled sadly. "So I doubt it. But we have this new boy who joined us recently. Maybe we could ask him for help."

Freddie had hired a lad who was good with computers. He asked the young boy to access the staff records, and the teen did something that neither Brooke nor Freddie understood, but he pulled out Anthony's address. Brooke knew she had finally found the Anthony she was looking for because his records were approximately twenty years old.

"But why do you need it, miss?" Freddie asked her as she noted Anthony's address.

"It's nothing serious," she explained. "Anthony could lead me to someone I'm looking for."

An hour later, Brooke pulled over outside a modest home. It has a small chrysanthemum garden in the front yard. Brooke climbed the steps to the front porch and knocked.

Minutes later, an older woman appeared in the doorway.

"Yes?" she asked. "How can I help you?"

"Hello, does Anthony live here?" Brooke asked. "I—"

"What do you want from him, girl?" the older woman cut her off.

"Uh, I-I guess he knew my Grandpa," Brooke explained. "My grandpa passed away, and I had some questions for—"

"Anthony is dead, girl!" replied the woman rudely. "And dead people don't talk! So you better get lost!"

The older woman began closing the door, but Brooke stopped her.

"What? But... but I thought he could tell me what happened to my parents!" Brooke blurted out. "They died in a car crash twenty years ago, and he was my last hope!"

"Wait a second…What did you say your name was?" the older woman asked, her face changing from anger to shock. She looked closely at Brooke.

"I'm Brooke."

"That can't be!" gasped the woman, covering her mouth. "You…Oh God. No wonder you look like him…"

Brooke noticed tears forming in the older woman's eyes as her lips quivered.

"Do you know me?" Brooke asked, confused. "Are you OK?"

"Are you strong enough to face the truth, Brooke?" The woman asked tremblingly. "Come on in only if you can face it."

The woman opened the door wider for her and went inside.

Brooke walked past the hallway into a small living room, but as her gaze landed on the frame hanging on the wall, her eyes widened in shock.

A picture of an older man and the young man whose monochrome images she had found in the rusted box hung on the wall.

"That's Anthony, my husband," the woman pointed to the older man's image, "and I'm his wife, Grace. I know Charles. He met my husband at work and became good friends, but only for a while. And I can tell you I've never seen a more awful man in my life! I can assure you it's a blessing that Charles is dead!"

"Excuse me?" Brooke frowned. "How can you say that about a dead man? At least, have the courtesy—"

"YOU ARE NOT HIS GRANDDAUGHTER!" Grace yelled through her tears. "You hear me?"

"He stole you. He stole everything! He took away everything from us, and I hope he died in pain for what he did! Do you see the other young man in the picture? That's Anthony and my son, David!

"Your mother, Bridget…You have no idea the pain she endured when she met Charles's son, Morris!" Grace added as she recounted the fatal tragedy that stole everything from her years ago.

Grace narrates what happened 20 years ago…

David glanced at his wristwatch as he arrived at the bus stop. "Where is she?" he wondered. A few minutes later, he saw Bridget walking to the bus stop.

David waited for Bridget's arrival every single day. He had fallen in love with her at first sight but lacked the courage to ask her out. That day, he saw something that finally gave him the courage to approach her.

He and Bridget were alone at the stop, and she burst into tears.

David hesitated momentarily but could no longer see her crying, so he approached her.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, but she shifted away from him, wiping her tears.

"Please leave me alone," she said.

"Bridget, I—" he tried approaching her again, but she flinched and stepped away.

"How do you know me? Ge-get away from me!"

"I work at the same hospital as you. Maybe you didn't notice me before, but I notice you every day, and I—" Before he could continue, the bus came.

Bridget hurriedly got onto the bus, not even waiting to know what he wanted to say. He got in after her but sat far away at the back.

David could tell there was something wrong with her. She looked terrified, and despite the hot weather, she was always fully covered and wore sweaters.

They got down at the stop near the hospital, and Bridget hurriedly walked away. He wanted to talk to her but didn't want to bother her, so he kept his distance.

However, later that afternoon, when David was in the parking lot, he heard someone crying and stopped in his tracks.

David looked around and didn't see anyone at first. But then his eyes spotted a shadow on the wall, and when he approached it, he found Bridget crying on the ground behind a car.

"Hey, Bridget…Wha-What's wrong?" he asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

Bridget didn't answer but didn't ask him to leave this time. So he sat beside her and told her it was OK…that she could talk to him whenever she felt comfortable, and Bridget said something that made David shudder.

"He, what? Your husband abuses you?" David's eyes bulged in horror.

Bridget sniffled as she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her arms. Her skin bore cigarette burns and scars. Morris was an alcoholic who got drunk and beat up his wife. He had even molested her several times, but Bridget was too afraid to leave the marriage. Somehow, she thought she would fix Morris, and they could live happily.

David was crushed. The fact that Bridget was married was already tearing his heart apart, and now that he knew Bridget was being abused by her husband, it just broke him on the inside. A part of him wished he could kill the man who had done this to her!

"Bridget, you need to leave him!" David told her blatantly. "He's going to do worse things to you if you let him control you!"

"Are you saying that because you like me?" Bridget asked sharply. "All men are the same! You are doing this so that you can have me, right?"

"What? No!" David was hurt she had taken him otherwise. Before he could say anything, she got up and left.

When David arrived at the bus stop two days later, he saw her again. He was determined not to get involved with her, but the situation was such that he couldn't help it.

"Oh my God, Bridget!"

Bridget could barely walk. She was sweaty and would have collapsed in the middle of the road if he hadn't dashed up to her.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" David asked the doctor who was examining her. He didn't take Bridget to the hospital where they worked because David feared something very wrong had happened to her.

"How do you know the patient?" the doctor asked.

"I-I'm a friend," he lied. "What's wrong, doctor?"

The doctor sighed in defeat. "She fainted from exhaustion. However…the patient's body shows signs of extreme trauma," she said. "She appears to have been physically and mentally abused. I'm not sure what happened, but we might need to call the cops," the doctor said. "Looks like she was being tortured."

"I-I will talk to her once she's conscious and take care of it," David told the doctor. "Thank you."

When David saw Bridget surrounded by beeping machines, he felt like he was dying on the inside. His heart ached like it had never before.

He stayed by her side, waiting for her to wake up, and when she did, she cried and hugged him. Bridget told him everything that had happened, including how Morris had tortured her because he couldn't become a father. He was sterile, but he blamed everything on her.

So that night, Bridget didn't go home after being discharged from the hospital. She texted Morris, lying she had to fill in for someone else at the hospital, and went to David's house. That night, things got intense between David and Bridget.

Bridget didn't know why, but when David initiated the kiss, she couldn't stop herself. Soon, they were in each other's arms in his bed.

"We can stop now if you're not comfortable," he told her, but she had never felt so comfortable, and most importantly safe, in anyone's embrace.

The following day, when he woke up, she was gone. But there was a note from her on his bedside table:

"I am so sorry for what happened, David. I…I wasn't thinking straight, but let's not meet again. Let's forget each other and move on. I'm so sorry."

David was fuming as he read the note. How could she just say that? Last night had meant so much to him! And it was nothing for her?

From that day on, David started maintaining a distance from Bridget. He never dared to approach her, even if he felt she was in trouble again. But one day, months later...everything changed.

He noticed her bump. Bridget was pregnant. But Morris was sterile, so the child couldn't be his. That meant it was…David's child.

When David confronted her, she revealed everything.

"But please, I beg you, don't tell anyone about it, David!" she pleaded. "Things have changed between Morris and me ever since I told him about the miracle baby!"

"Miracle baby?" He shot back. "You are taking my child away from me, Bridget!"

"Please," she held his hand, and he noticed a fresh scar peeking beneath her sweater sleeve.

"What is this if everything is fine between the two of you?" he asked sternly, and she lowered her gaze.

"Sometimes...he just...he just gets angry when I don't listen to him," she admitted, embarrassed.

David was hurt by how she was just letting herself get abused, but he was also furious. How could she be such a fool?

"Listen to me! He doesn't deserve you, Bridget! Please, leave him!" he told her, but Bridget burst into tears and begged him to let her go. She begged him not to interfere in her and Morris's life.

And David did that. He gave up on his child for her sake. Four years passed.

David moved on. Everything seemed to have moved on. David and Bridget continued to work at the hospital but acted like strangers, except for occasional exchanges when they would talk about Brooke.

But one day, Bridget announced she was quitting. It wasn't long before David realized Morris was behind it. He was pissed off that Bridget didn't stay home to look after "their" child, and he kept assaulting Bridget because of that.

David had had enough. He had made up his mind that Morris needed to die. And at a bar one night, he coincidentally met Brandon. They started having a conversation, and David told him his worries.

"I want that guy to die!" David hissed. "Someone like him doesn't deserve to live!"

"Calm down, boy," Brandon said, sipping his whiskey. "Can I see him? You got a picture?"

David showed him the pictures that he had taken after he began following Morris. David had decided to cut Morris's car's cables so that the brakes would fail and his death would appear to be an accident.

"Wait…this man behind him," Brandon's gaze stopped on Charles in one of the photos.

"I tell you what, buddy," Brandon chuckled, studying the photos and looking at David.

"We deserve to be friends. This guy in the picture — the oldie — he's been after me. I think if you teach his son a lesson, I'd be just another grateful soul. Here," Brandon placed the Figaro chain on the table. "Only MY BOYS get this, and you deserve it for the courage you got! And yeah, tonight the bill's on me. If you need any help, just let me know."

That night, Brandon only fueled David's anger for Morris. And after talking to Brandon, David was even more convinced that Morris didn't deserve to live.

So that night, when the rest of the city was fast asleep, he and Brandon unlocked Morris's car, tampered with the wires, including the emergency brake cables, and then locked the vehicle and scurried away.

Grace finishes narrating the story...

However, David didn't know he had accidentally dropped the chain inside the car. He also didn't know Morris wasn't going to the office the following day. It was Charles's birthday, so Morris, Bridget, and Brooke were visiting him.

"When he learned your mother had also died in the accident, he was heartbroken," Grace told Brooke sadly.

"He wanted to get you back, so he tried to kidnap you, but your so-called grandfather was there, and David got scared and fled. David was paranoid… He kept saying he had lost some chain that would get him caught…and a few days later, he killed himself. He sent me a video of himself, and it was the saddest thing any mother could see…" Grace wiped her eyes as she continued.

"He couldn't stand the pain of losing you and your mother, Brooke. And my husband…he died of a heart attack soon after we lost our son. David was all we had. One incident took everything away from me! And...after David left, I read about that Brandon guy in the newspapers. Charles would've celebrated his death, but I didn't! He was the only one who helped my son!"

Brooke was shocked, to say the least. She couldn't believe any of it. Her Dad was not her biological father; moreover, he was someone who assaulted his own wife.

"That means you are my grandmother…" she finally whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. She wanted to cry her heart out, but she held her emotions.

"Charles knew how his son was abusing your mother," Grace continued, pretending she hadn't heard what Brooke said. "Your mother told David everything. Charles was too eager to grow his bloodline and hide his son's sterility, so he lied to the world. You weren't really his granddaughter, you see."

"I was waiting for the day he would pay for what he had done! And I'm so glad you came here, Brooke! I regret that you are not entirely my son's blood! You are related to the woman whose family included filthy people like Charles! And somewhere...she was also the reason I lost my boy!"

"I'm sorry I could never accept you," Grace continued, "I just let you be with Charles. But apart from me and Anthony, someone saw Charles for who he was, and I assume that's why she left him. And maybe she also knew her son was a monster! Who knows...maybe Charles abused his wife, too—" Grace paused as she noticed tears in Brooke's eyes.

"One second, I have something for you," she got up and left.

"It's been 20 years, so some of the tape might be gone," Grace said as she returned with the recording. "At the very least, you will now be able to see your father. That's all I can do for you. I'm sorry, girl," she added as she saw hot tears streamed down Brooke's cheeks.

Brooke left Grace's house, feeling unsettled.

At home, she finally played the videotape Grace had given her. The recording was old, and after a point, Brooke couldn't watch it because the screen was blurry. But she knew Grace was telling the truth, which was heart-wrenching.

Then Brooke recalled what Grace had told her and wondered if Marla knew about what Charles had done. She called Marla, and the older woman picked up after a few rings.

"Hey-Hey, Grandma," her lips quivered as she spoke. "Can I ask you something? Why did you and Grandpa divorce?"

"Why are you asking that now, honey?" Marla asked. From Marla's voice, Brooke could sense her grandmother was hiding something.

"Did Grandpa ever hurt you?" she asked blatantly. "Be honest with me. And did you know Dad hurt Mom?"

"Some questions are better unanswered, Brooke. Are you still playing detective? Stop it, honey," the older woman replied, and Brooke knew she didn't need to hear anymore.

Brooke hung up the call and looked at the sky in tears where her Mom and David were now.

"Why did it happen to us, God? Why?" Brooke asked, only to be met with the loneliness in her heart and around her.

But deep down, she knew Charles felt guilty about his actions. That's why he couldn't help but hide those things under his bed. Probably, he went through them every night during the last few years of his life, reflecting on his sins.

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A man walked out on his wife and children because he wanted to enjoy a peaceful life with his young mistress. However, things took a devastating turn for him years later, and just when he thought nothing would go wrong, he had to face his grown-up daughter. Here's the full story.

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