My Father Abandoned Me as a Child and I Took Revenge on Him – Story of the Day

Amanda's father abandoned the family when Amanda was merely an infant. Throughout her life, this abandonment fueled a deep-seated anger towards him. Upon discovering his impending marriage in a newspaper article, Amanda resolved to enact revenge. The plan hinged on a single earring, a symbolic tool intended to teach her father the pain of total loss.

Amanda's day at work had been long and exhausting. Her shoulders sagged with fatigue as she approached the quaint, somewhat weathered house she called home. It was a modest structure, nestled at the end of a quiet suburban street, its walls filled with memories of a childhood cut tragically short.

As she neared the front door, she saw a folded newspaper lying untouched by the doorstep, a remnant of the morning rush she hadn't had the time to attend to.

With a gentle sigh, Amanda bent down to pick up the paper, the action stirring a cloud of nostalgia within her. This house, with its peeling paint and the creaky porch steps, had once echoed with the laughter of her family.

Her mother had passed away when Amanda was just tender age of 12, leaving her to navigate the complexities of the world without a guiding hand.

The loss of her mother had been a pivotal moment in Amanda's life, marking the beginning of a turbulent journey through the foster care system. Each home she was placed in felt more like a temporary shelter than a place of belonging.

But as it always does, time continued to march forward, and with it came change. On her 18th birthday, Amanda had aged out of the foster care system, gaining the legal freedom to chart her course.

Her first decision was to return to her childhood home, the only place that had ever truly felt like hers. It wasn't just a house; it was a sanctuary, a tangible connection to the past and the memories of her mother that she cherished above all else.

Stepping inside, Amanda was enveloped by the familiar scent of aged wood. She closed the door behind her, leaning back against it for a moment.

Shaking off the cloak of reminiscence, Amanda made her way to the kitchen, setting the newspaper on the table before filling the kettle with water.

As it heated, she wandered through the rooms, each step a journey through time. The walls seemed to hold stories, tales of joy and sorrow, of a life lived with love and loss.

Eventually, the whistle of the kettle called her back to the present. She poured the hot water over a tea bag in her favorite mug, adorned with a floral pattern that her mother loved.

As Amanda sat at the kitchen table, the steam from her freshly brewed cup of tea curled into the air, disappearing into the room's quiet. The warmth of the mug seeped into her palms, offering a fleeting comfort that she found herself clinging to.

She unfolded the newspaper with a sense of routine, expecting to scan through the headlines with half-interest as she had done countless mornings before. But today was different. Today, the paper held a revelation that would reignite old wounds and awaken a dormant fury within her.

The photograph on the page was unequivocal. Her father, Robert, stood beside a woman named Carla, both adorned in celebratory attire, their smiles speaking of joy and a shared future.

The caption beneath the photo heralded their marriage as the season's social event, a celebration of love meant to be admired and envied. To anyone else, it would have been just another piece of news, but to Amanda, it was a stark reminder of a past filled with abandonment and loss.

Amanda had only ever known her father through the faded photographs her mother had kept tucked away in old shoeboxes, relics of a life that had been torn apart before Amanda could even remember.

And when her mother had fallen ill, desperately reaching out to the man who had once promised to stand by her in sickness and in health, he had turned his back on them, ignoring her calls, leaving them to face the darkness alone.

The pain and anger Amanda had buried beneath years of resilience and determination bubbled to the surface, overwhelming her with its intensity.

"Betrayal is nothing new to you," Amanda whispered to herself, her voice laced with bitterness. The earrings she touched, simple silver studs her mother had given her on one of her birthdays, felt cold against her skin.

In that moment, a plan began to take shape in Amanda's mind, fueled by years of hurt and the desire to make her father understand the pain he had caused.

The morning sun had just begun to climb into the sky, casting a soft light over the quiet neighborhood as Amanda made her way toward her father's house.

The crisp morning air filled her lungs, a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within her. As she turned the corner, her heart began to pound louder, its beats echoing the nervous anticipation that gripped her.

Her father's house stood before her, symbolizing the life he had chosen without her. It was larger than she had imagined, with a well-manicured lawn and a flower-like pathway leading to the front door.

Two cars were parked in the driveway, gleaming under the morning sun. "I'll have to wait," Amanda thought to herself, her plan momentarily paused by the presence of these vehicles. She couldn't risk being seen.

Finding a large oak tree near the edge of the property, Amanda tucked herself behind it, using its broad trunk as a shield.

From this vantage point, she could see the front door clearly, her eyes fixed on it with unwavering attention. Time seemed to slow as she waited, her mind racing about what was coming.

Then, the moment she had been waiting for arrived. The front door opened, and her father, Robert, stepped out, followed by the woman from the newspaper, his fiancée, Carla. They paused on the doorstep, sharing a moment that to any onlooker would have seemed tender and loving.

Her father leaned in to kiss Carla goodbye, which made Amanda's stomach turn. She felt an involuntary grimace form on her face, a physical manifestation of the bitterness inside her.

Amanda watched as they parted ways, each getting into their respective cars. Her father's car, sleek and polished, seemed to be a stark representation of the new life he had built, one that had no place for Amanda or her mother.

As the cars drove off, disappearing down the street, Amanda remained hidden, her eyes tracking their departure until they were no longer in sight.

She waited a few minutes longer, ensuring that they were truly gone, that there was no chance of them suddenly returning and catching her off guard.

Amanda's heart pounded in her chest as she emerged from her hiding spot behind the tree, her eyes scanning the exterior of her father's house with a mix of determination and anxiety.

The sight of the open window on the second floor was like a beacon, guiding her to the next step of her carefully laid plans. Without hesitation, she approached the sturdy oak tree that stood sentinel beside the house, its branches reaching out as if offering assistance in her undercover mission.

Climbing the tree was a task Amanda undertook with surprising agility, each movement calculated and precise. As a child, she had often climbed trees, a small escape from the complexities of her life, but never under circumstances quite like these.

Reaching the open window, she paused for a moment, gathering her resolve before silently easing herself through the gap and into the room beyond.

The bedroom she entered was bathed in the soft light of the morning sun, which filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

With deliberate movements, Amanda approached the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she began to disturb the neatly arranged covers. And then, with a sense of finality, she removed one earring—a simple piece, yet laden with meaning—and placed it on the bed. It was a token, evidence meant to sow seeds of doubt and discord.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Amanda retraced her steps to the window, pausing only to glance at the room that had become an unwitting participant in her plan.

Climbing back out of the window was as smooth as her entry, the branches of the tree aiding her descent with the familiarity of an old friend.

Once back on the ground, Amanda didn't immediately retreat. Instead, she found herself drawn back to the safety of her hiding spot behind the tree. Her plan required patience, a waiting game that demanded as much from her nerves as the act of breaking in itself.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Amanda's keen eyes caught the first glimpse of the fiancée's car returning to the house. Her heart began to race, not from the climb or the hiding, but from anticipating what was about to unfold.

The fiancée, Carla, stepped out of her car with an air of contentment, oblivious to the storm that was about to break. Amanda watched from her concealed spot as Carla entered the house, her steps light and unhurried.

It wasn't long before another car turned into the driveway. This one, unmistakably her father's, carried a flood of emotions for Amanda. She watched as Robert, her father, stepped out and entered the house, carrying the air of a man returning to his sanctuary.

Amanda gave them a few minutes, allowing the quiet of their return home to settle. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the tree and approached the front door. Her hand hesitated for a moment before pressing the doorbell, the sound echoing louder in her ears than she had expected.

The door swung open, and there stood Carla, her expression one of polite curiosity mixed with slight caution. Amanda was struck by her appearance; Carla was the embodiment of the new life her father had chosen, a life in which Amanda had no part.

"How can I help you?" Carla asked, her tone polite but guarded as she opened the door.

Amanda, feigning confusion, looked at her closely and asked, "I'm here to see Robert. Are you his maid?"

The question seemed to take Carla by surprise. "No, I'm his fiancée," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice as she showed off her engagement ring.

"Fiancée?" Amanda acted shocked. "That scoundrel! He told me I was the only one in his life!"

Carla's confusion grew. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

Amanda took a deep breath before lying, "We've been seeing each other for a few weeks. He even brought me here a few times. He never said he was engaged."

"Seeing each other? No, that's impossible. We're getting married soon," Carla said, her voice filled with disbelief.

"I'm truly sorry. I had no idea he was engaged. I would never have been involved with him if I knew," Amanda said, trying to sound remorseful.

"Robert!" Carla raised her voice, calling for him.

Robert came to the door, appearing confused. "Yes, dear? What's wrong?"

"Don't you have something to tell me?" Carla demanded, her eyes darting between Robert and Amanda.

"About what?" Robert looked genuinely puzzled.

"About you two being together!" Carla's voice was sharp with accusation.

"Carla, I swear, I don't know this woman. This is the first time I'm seeing her," Robert defended himself.

Amanda added, "Oh, but you knew me very well a few hours ago, didn't you?"

Carla's anger boiled over. "I believed in you! You're just a liar!"

"Dear, I have no idea who she is. I've never met her before," Robert insisted, his voice steady.

"So, you're saying she's lying?" Carla turned to Robert, seeking the truth.

"Yes, I am. I would never do anything to hurt you," Robert said, trying to reassure Carla.

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Amanda said, playing her part. "But I lost an earring here. It was my mother's, and it means a lot to me. I think it fell off in the house."

Carla glared at Robert, her suspicion evident.

"It can't be here because I don't know her," Robert was adamant.

"May I just look around for it? It's very important to me," Amanda asked, injecting a note of desperation into her voice.

"I'm not letting a stranger search our house," Robert said firmly.

"Why not? If she's lying, the earring won't be here," Carla countered, her logic undeniable.

Robert sighed, the situation weighing heavily on him. "Fine. You can look for your earring. But you won't find it because it's not here. I'm sure of it."

The tension in the air was palpable as Amanda stepped into the house, her plan unfolding with each passing moment. The scene was set, the players all in place, and the truth and deception drama unfolded in Robert and Carla's home.

Carla followed closely behind, her eyes filled with suspicion and curiosity. They made their way to the stairs that led to the bedroom, each step heavy with the weight of the impending confrontation.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Amanda paused for a moment at the door, taking a deep breath to steady herself before entering. The room was just as she left it, the bedcovers slightly askew from when she had staged the scene earlier. Without hesitation, she walked over to the bed and lifted the cover, revealing the earring she had strategically placed there.

Carla, who had been watching Amanda closely, gasped in shock upon seeing the earring. "I can't believe it! Jerk! Scoundrel!" she yelled, her voice echoing with betrayal and hurt.

Amanda picked up the earring, feeling satisfaction and regret as she watched Carla's reaction. She hadn't anticipated the depth of emotion that would be displayed, the raw pain in Carla's voice as she confronted the reality of the situation.

"The earring was on the bed! On our bed!" Carla yelled, her voice carrying down the stairs to where Robert was likely still standing, confused and defensive.

"What? That's impossible..." Robert's voice floated up from the first floor, his disbelief evident even from a distance.

"You betrayed me, then lied about it!" Carla's accusation was sharp, a clear indication that the trust between them had been shattered.

"Carla, I really don't know this girl," Robert tried to defend himself, his voice strained. "She set everything up!"

"I saw it. The earring was on the bed. She couldn't have planted it," Carla argued, her logic fighting against the pain of her discovery.

"Carla, listen," Robert started, but Carla cut him off.

"I no longer believe a word you say. The wedding is off. I'm going to my mother's." Her declaration was firm, the finality of her decision hanging heavily in the air.

"I'm truly sorry, I didn't know," Amanda interjected, her voice soft.

"You're not to blame. Only this scoundrel is," Carla said, her anger mixed with a profound sense of loss.

"I'm sorry again, but I need to go," Amanda said, feeling the urgency to escape the chaos she had helped create.

Carla nodded, her expression one of resignation and hurt. Amanda turned and left the room, her steps quick as she descended the stairs and exited the house. The shouts of Carla and Robert followed her, a tumultuous backdrop to her departure.

As Amanda stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, a stark contrast to the heated emotions she left behind. She looked down at the earring in her hand, a tangible reminder of her meticulously executed plan.

Her plan had worked. She had wanted her father to experience the pain of abandonment, to understand the hurt he had caused her and her mother.

Several days had passed since Amanda executed her plan to frame her father, Robert, for infidelity. Now, as she busied herself wiping down tables at the restaurant where she worked, a small smile played on her lips.

She believed firmly that she had done the right thing. Her childhood memories were filled with images of her mother tirelessly working long hours, their small house a testament to the sacrifices she made to provide for Amanda.

After her mother's death, Amanda's life had been uprooted, shuffled between foster homes that felt more like cold, impersonal stations than places of refuge. Each new placement felt like a reminder of what she had lost: a family, a home, and the sense of belonging that came with it.

The memory of her mother's unyielding spirit and the hardships she endured fueled Amanda's conviction. Robert, who had abandoned them without a backward glance, moving on to build a new life while they struggled, didn't deserve the chance to start anew as if nothing had happened.

As Amanda continued wiping down the tables, the chatter among her colleagues grew louder, their conversation weaving through the air like the steam from the kitchen.

"The whole town can't stop talking about that wedding," Stacy, one of the waitresses, exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

Chef Rick, who was busy chopping vegetables, chimed in with a chuckle. "Oh yes, my wife has been talking my ear off about it too."

Tom, another waiter, leaned against the counter, his expression one of mock disbelief. "I bet they spent our yearly salaries combined on that wedding," he mused, shaking his head.

Stacy laughed, flipping her hair back. "You're kidding, right? They definitely spent more than that."

Their laughter filled the kitchen, a moment of light-hearted camaraderie before the day got busier. Amanda, who had been quietly wiping down tables, couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "What wedding are you all talking about?"

Stacy looked at her, surprised. "You seriously haven't heard?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

Tom gave Amanda a friendly nudge. "Girl, you definitely need to work less. You're missing all the big news," he teased.

Rick, trying to recall the details, added, "The wedding of that businessman, Robert, and his girl... What's her name? Carmen?"

Hearing her father's name, Amanda's heart skipped a beat. Panic and disbelief washed over her. Could the wedding still be happening after what she had done?

"Kira?" Stacy suggested, trying to recall the correct name.

Tom frowned, clearly trying to remember. "Mmm, no, I don't remember the name," he admitted.

"Carla," Amanda whispered almost inaudibly, the name escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"Exactly! Carla!" Stacy exclaimed, her face lighting up. "So you do keep up with the news after all."

Amanda's mind raced. "They didn't cancel it?" she asked, a note of hope in her voice, though she tried to mask her interest in the matter.

"Why would they cancel it?" Stacy asked, genuinely puzzled by Amanda's reaction.

Tom shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. "Girl, a wedding that expensive won't be canceled just like that."

Amanda cursed under her breath, the reality of the situation sinking in. The plan she thought would ruin her father's chance at a new beginning hadn't worked. The wedding was still on.

Seeing Amanda's reaction, Tom walked over and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll find yourself a rich one too," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Amanda shrugged off Tom's arm, her focus returning to the tables she was wiping. "I couldn't care less about that rich guy," she said, her voice firm, wanting to end the conversation there.

"Why did you react like that then?" Stacy asked, her curiosity piqued by Amanda's sudden interest and subsequent dismissal of the topic.

Amanda chose not to answer, her mind already racing with new plans and possibilities. The bustling sounds of the restaurant faded into the background as she pondered her next move. The revelation that her plan to disrupt her father's wedding had failed was a bitter pill to swallow.

The sting of this failure gnawed at her, but it also sparked a fire within her—a determination to devise a new plan that would hit her father where it truly hurts.

Her father, Robert, had built a life separate from Amanda and her mother, a life that included a pharmaceutical manufacturing company he had started building even before Amanda was born. This company was not just a business to Robert; it was his empire, his legacy.

Amanda knew this because, despite everything, her mother had kept Robert's memory alive in their home. She spoke of him with a mixture of sadness and unresolved love, recounting stories of their early days together and their shared dreams. Among those dreams was Robert's ambition to build a company that would change the pharmaceutical industry.

As Amanda wiped down the tables, her mind raced with possibilities. Her initial plan had been to shake Robert's personal life, but now, she realized that to truly make an impact, she needed to target his professional world. If she could find a way to jeopardize that, then maybe, just maybe, he would begin to understand the depth of the loss and betrayal she felt.

During her lunch break, Amanda sat alone in a quiet corner of the restaurant, her meal untouched in front of her. Her focus was entirely on the screen of her phone, where she had begun her deep dive into the world of her father's pharmaceutical manufacturing company.

With each tap and swipe, she uncovered more about the empire her father had built—an empire that had flourished while she and her mother struggled to make ends meet.

The building was split into two distinct parts: the lower floors dedicated to the heart of the operation, where medicines were manufactured, packaged, and stored, and the upper floors housing the offices, the brain of the company where critical decisions were made, and all important documents were kept.

The information on the security measures in place caught Amanda's attention. It seemed that the building's protection was minimal after business hours, relying on a single security guard stationed at the entrance.

This detail sparked a thought in Amanda's mind. If she could somehow bypass or distract the guard, she could gain access to the building. The realization that her plan, as dangerous and fraught with legal implications as it was, could indeed be possible sent a shiver down her spine.

Amanda's fingers hesitated over her phone as she saved the layout of the building. The image on her screen was a blueprint for what could either be her greatest act of defiance or the decision that would lead to her undoing. The thought of physically entering the building and walking through the halls her father walked felt terrifying and exhilarating.

The decision to proceed was not made lightly. Amanda knew that the road ahead was fraught with risks. She understood that what she was contemplating went far beyond the realm of a simple act of rebellion—it was a deliberate, calculated move against a man who had seemingly forgotten her existence.

As the sun set and the city began to quiet down for the night, Amanda found herself in a taxi, heading towards her father's pharmaceutical company.

The weight of the gasoline container by her feet felt like a tangible manifestation of the decision she had made—a decision that carried the weight of years of pain and abandonment.

After her shift at the restaurant, she purchased the gasoline, a tool in her plan to make her father experience a fraction of the loss she had felt throughout her life.

The taxi pulled up to the address Amanda had given, the large building looming in the darkness like a silent giant. The area was deserted, the only light coming from the security post at the entrance. With a determined breath, Amanda paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi, taking the gasoline container with her.

She placed the container by the company's entrance, her heart pounding against her chest. This was it—the point of no return. Amanda reached into her bag and took out a small bottle of eye drops.

With practiced precision, she dripped the liquid into her eyes, forcing them to water and giving the appearance of someone who had been crying.

She smeared her mascara slightly, enhancing the effect. It was crucial that she looked distressed that she played the part of a victim seeking help to lower the guard's defenses and gain entry to the building without raising suspicion.

Amanda's hands trembled slightly as she applied more eye drops, the reality of what she was about to do settling in. She was not just risking her father's company but her own future. Yet, the drive for justice, for some semblance of retribution, pushed her forward.

Amanda burst through the doors, her heart racing as she approached the security guard. Her eyes, red and watery from the eye drops, helped sell the urgency of her fabricated distress. "Help! Please! You have to help me!" she cried, her voice trembling to convey fear.

The security guard, taken aback by her sudden appearance and apparent panic, quickly stood up from his seat. "Ma'am, calm down. What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Amanda, grasping for breaths between her sobs, managed to stammer, "Men...they...they said...they want me to," her voice breaking as if she were too scared to complete her sentence.

"I didn't understand, ma'am. Can you please explain what's going on?" the guard pressed, trying to piece together her frantic words.

"Please, you have to help me!" Amanda pleaded, avoiding direct eye contact to hide any hint of deceit. "I'll call the police right now," he responded, reaching for the phone.

"No, they're already here. You have to help me! The police won't make it in time," Amanda insisted, hoping to steer him away from calling the authorities and toward acting on his own.

The security guard paused, assessing the situation. "Where are they, ma'am?" he asked, trying to understand the immediate threat.

"There. On the street, please help me," Amanda gestured vaguely toward the entrance, her story vague enough to prevent immediate verification but urgent enough to demand action.

The guard, now fully invested in her tale of distress, made a decision. "Alright, I'll go check what's happening. Stay here," he instructed, moving towards the door to investigate the nonexistent threat Amanda had concocted.

After ensuring the security guard had moved away to investigate the nonexistent threat she had fabricated, Amanda's actions became swift and deliberate. She retrieved the gasoline container, her hands steady despite the turmoil swirling within her.

The security guard's pass lay forgotten on the table, a small but crucial oversight that Amanda capitalized on. It was her key to accessing the heart of her father's empire.

With the pass in hand, she approached the elevator, pressing the button to ascend to the floors that housed the lifeblood of her father's company. The elevator dinged softly, its doors opening to a corridor that led to the office where crucial documents were stored.

Amanda's heart raced as she entered, the silence of the empty office echoing around her. She unscrewed the cap of the gasoline container, the sharp scent filling the room as she began to douse the documents, the desks, and the very foundations of her father's achievements with the flammable liquid.

Lighting a match, Amanda set the office ablaze, the flames catching quickly, consuming the paperwork and furniture with a hunger that mirrored Amanda's need for closure.

She didn't linger to watch the fire spread; her plan required her to move quickly, to inflict as much damage as possible before her actions were discovered.

She rushed back to the elevator, descending to the floors dedicated to manufacturing and storing medicines. The laboratory was quiet, the sterile environment a stark contrast to the chaos she had unleashed above.

Here, too, she spread gasoline, the liquid trailing behind her like a dark promise. The warehouse was next, filled with boxes of medicines ready for distribution. Amanda repeated her actions, setting fire to years of research and development, to her father's legacy.

With the building now ablaze in multiple locations, Amanda discarded the empty gasoline canister, a symbol of her rage and desperation. She exited through the back door, her heart pounding in her ears, the fire's heat warming her back as she put distance between herself and the destruction.

Circling the building to ensure the security guard remained unaware of the inferno inside, Amanda witnessed the windows blowing out, the force of the fire's expansion a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

The security guard fell to the ground, and Amanda's resolve wavered for a moment at the sight. But the urgency of escape propelled her forward, away from the scene and the immediate consequences of her actions.

The walk home was a blur, Amanda's mind reeling from what she had done. She smelled of gasoline, a pungent reminder of her actions, of the line she had crossed in her quest for justice.

The desire to confront her father immediately, to reveal the extent of her actions and the reasons behind them, was strong. Yet, prudence dictated she wait, clean off the evidence of her involvement, and approach the confrontation with a clear head.

Arriving home, Amanda stood under the shower, letting the hot water wash away the physical remnants of the night's events. But the water did nothing to cleanse her conscience or quell the storm of emotions within her.

She had set out to make her father feel the loss, to understand the pain of being left with nothing. Yet, as she stood alone, the gravity of her actions weighing heavily on her, Amanda wondered if the price of her vengeance was too high.

Amanda called a taxi to take her to her father's house in the early morning light. Her heart pounded with fear, anger, and an indescribable longing as the taxi neared its destination.

When she arrived, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confrontation that awaited her. She knocked on the door, each rap echoing like a drumbeat in her tense mind.

The door swung open, and there stood Robert, her father, looking as if he was hurrying to leave. His expression changed from surprise to annoyance when he saw Amanda.

"You..." he hissed, his voice laced with contempt. "I don't have time for you." With those harsh words, he tried to push past her.

But Amanda was not the frightened child she once was. "Aren't you curious why your entire company burned down last night? Dad," she said, emphasizing the word "Dad" with a mix of bitterness and challenge.

Robert froze in his tracks, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. "Amanda?" he uttered as if seeing her for the first time. It was clear he hadn't expected this confrontation, this reckoning.

"Wow, you even know my name. Strange because when you left me and Mom, you didn't care," Amanda retorted, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

"What did you do?" Robert asked, a dawning realization and fear creeping into his voice.

"I took away what you loved most. So you would know what it's like to lose everything. Like mom and I lost," Amanda declared, her words a declaration of her pain and her act of retribution.

"You set the fire..." Robert whispered, the gravity of her actions hitting him.

"I wanted to stop at making you argue with your fiancée. But my earring plan didn't work, so I decided to go further," Amanda admitted, revealing the depth of her desperation for him to understand their loss.

At that moment, Carla, Robert's fiancée, came outside, confusion and concern written all over her face. "Robert, what's happening? Why is she here again?" she asked, looking from Amanda to Robert for answers.

"I've lived my whole life thinking I would make you pay for leaving us one day. And finally, I did," Amanda said, her voice thick with unshed tears and years of pent-up emotion.

Robert sighed, the fight seeming to drain out of him. "I know I owe you and your mother an apology," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with regret.

"You left us! Mom had to work hard so she could provide for me. And when she died, I had to live in foster homes. Do you even understand what I went through?" Amanda's voice rose, her anger and hurt spilling over.

"I know I can't make it right now. But I'm sorry. I was a complete jerk back then. I was young, too young. I was scared of the responsibility, afraid I couldn't be a good father to you," Robert tried to explain, his words clumsy attempts at making amends.

"So you decided to disappear from our lives altogether?" Amanda challenged, her voice laced with scorn.

"It was a mistake. I regret it. Still," Robert admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"So much so that when mom was dying and called you, you didn't even pick up the phone?" Amanda's accusation was sharp, cutting to the heart of her pain.

"Elizabeth called me?" Robert looked genuinely surprised, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "I changed my number...When the company started to become successful, I changed my number. Forgive me, Amanda, forgive me. If only I had known."

Amanda couldn't hold back her tears any longer. "How dare you," she sobbed. "How dare you lie," she cried, her emotions overwhelming her.

"Please forgive me, if I could turn back time, I would never have done that."

"But you did, and you can't change anything. You brought us nothing but suffering, Mom and me. That's why I burned your company, so you would feel it. Living with loss," Amanda said, her voice raw with emotion.

"Robert? She burned the company?" Carla interjected, shock evident in her voice.

"I'm calling the police," she added, ready to take action.

"No," Robert said firmly, stopping her. Amanda looked at him in surprise, not expecting his intervention.

"What do you mean no? This girl burned your company. She has to be punished," Carla insisted, her sense of justice outraged.

"No. I deserved it. After the suffering I caused her and her mom," Robert said, his voice unwavering.

"Robert, you'll lose millions because of this fire," Carla argued, trying to make him see reason.

"The insurance company will cover some of it. Besides, no one was hurt in the fire. It's the least price I can pay for my actions," Robert replied, his tone accepting of the consequences.

He then gently took Amanda by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Please forgive me. I was a terrible husband and an even worse father."

"Why? Why won't you let her call the police on me?" Amanda asked, confusion and a glimmer of hope mingling in her voice.

"Because it will cause you even more suffering and won't make me feel any better. I can't hold a grudge against you for how you acted. You thought you were doing the right thing. Doing justice. When I left you, I also thought I was doing the right thing, that you would be better off without me. But I was wrong," Robert said, his words filled with remorse and a plea for understanding.

Amanda couldn't believe her father forgave her for taking everything from him so easily. Ruining his life. The complexity of her emotions was overwhelming, a mix of relief, confusion, and a lingering sense of betrayal.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me? For the suffering I caused you and your mom," Robert asked, his voice soft, hopeful.

"I...I don't know," Amanda admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She thought she would hold a grudge against her father forever. But now, after he acknowledged his mistake and forgave her, she found herself uncertain, torn between her anger and the possibility of forgiveness.

"I know it's too late. You're already an adult and independent woman. But I would like to correct my mistake. I want to get to know you and discover who you are. Do you think it's possible?" Robert asked his question, hanging in the air between them.

Amanda just nodded, tears streaming down her face as Robert gently hugged her. For the first time in her life, she felt a glimmer of hope, a possibility that maybe, just maybe, she could forgive her father for how he treated her and her mother.

The embrace, tentative at first, grew stronger, symbolizing a new beginning of the healing that might come with time and understanding.

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Claire and her neighbor Emily were best friends until one day, Claire found photographs of her father in Emily's drawer. Emily assures Claire that the photos mean nothing, but Claire notices how Emily and her father are hugging. After this intimate scene, Claire takes hasty actions to separate her father and Emily. Read the full story here.

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