My Daughter Called Her Moms Lover Dad So I Stopped Paying Her Bills

My daughter, Paige, had pulled another all-nighter for her fandom. I found her slumped asleep over her laptop keyboard. I was reaching for a blanket to drape over her when I accidentally saw the forum post she had open—a fresh rant about me: “My dad, this ancient penny-pincher, will drop cash on organic brisket, expensive seafood, and gourmet coffee for the kitchen, but won’t spot me for my concert tickets or merch drops.” “I’m going to lose it. Seriously, if he can’t support me properly now, I swear I won’t support him when he’s old!” One anonymous user replied, trying to be the voice of reason: “You’re just in your rebellious phase. You don’t understand financial pressure. Your dad buys necessities. Stanning an idol doesn’t fill your stomach.” Paige shot back a reply: “Spiritual nourishment is nourishment!” “My bias is the best human being on the planet. Why shouldn’t I spend money on him?!” “He’s not even close to being as cool as my mom’s boyfriend. He actually comes with me for airport pickups and buys me limited-edition albums!” “He’s my biological father, but he’s never understood where my soul finds its escape. Why did my mother ever settle for a stiff like him?” I felt a cold dread creep into my bones. All these years, I’d hustled like a corporate slave, working myself into the ground, often fifteen hours a day, just so this family could have a better life—the best life. And now? I was just the butt of an online joke. I was a “tool man.” Why the hell was I still grinding? When did I ever get to enjoy my own life?

1 I lay down on my bed, still scrolling through her forum posts on my phone. She had updated the thread: “Honestly, I know it sounds awful, but I really wish I’d lost my dad early. He’s been such a total headcase lately.” Someone commented: “What’s he bugging you about now?” She replied: “Everything. Every. Single. Day. He just hired this elite, one-on-one tutor to hover over me. I’m not his daughter, I’m his prisoner!” “Tomorrow is my birthday. I’m going to ask him for $500 for my idol’s new sponsored merchandise. If he says no, he stops being my father and becomes a mere ATM machine to me.” My heart plummeted. All the long-term planning and sacrificial love I had poured into her future—she saw it as a cage. It was the sharpened edge of the knife she now held pointed at my back. Suddenly, Paige walked into the room. Her expression was perfectly normal. “Dad, I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” I turned my phone screen off and spoke, my voice a cold, unfamiliar sound. “I’m not making lunch.” She always complained that I spent money on food for the house but none on her idols. The truth was, every cent of that food budget was for her. If the prodigal child couldn’t be tamed, I wouldn’t bother trying. My remaining life belonged to me. Paige paused, surprised. Even when I was sick, I had always made her three meals a day. She’d never missed one. The surprise lasted only a second. The next moment, a look of unmistakable glee flashed in her eyes, as if a heavy coat had been shed, and she was finally free. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just order takeout then. You rest.” Normally, I banned takeout, worried about her nutrition and health. Now, I saw that control had only given her another reason to trash me online. If she didn’t want the good life I was offering, then she could go ahead and run wild. Paige didn’t leave. She shifted the topic. “Dad, tomorrow’s my birthday. You don’t need to buy me a gift. Just give me $500 for my idol’s new endorsement—the limited-edition drop.” I sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at her, my face flat and cold. “No. My money is spoken for. Go ask your mother’s friend.” She was stunned, then immediately angry, but she tried to hold the rage in. “Not even a birthday gift?” “That’s right. From now on, there are no more gifts.” She couldn’t control herself anymore. Her face flushed scarlet, her neck stiffened, and her eyes spit fire. “So, what? Unless it’s a perfect GPA, I’m just a mistake to you? You think everything I care about is wrong!” I looked at this daughter who had somehow become a stranger to me and felt a hollow ache. It hadn’t always been like this. Before, she was a kind, sweet child. Our bond felt unbreakable. She’d told me so many times I was the best father in the world. Diana, my wife, walked in, her face stormy. “Adam Keller, what in God’s name is wrong with you?” She looked genuinely confused. Every year, I’d made a spectacular feast and bought Paige an expensive, carefully chosen gift. This was the first time I had ever coldly refused her. Diana patted Paige’s shoulder, soothing her. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s your birthday tomorrow. Mommy won’t let you down.” 2 The next morning, I went shopping. I bought a PlayStation 5, a Tag Heuer watch, and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers—things I’d always put off buying for myself. I signed up for a year-long membership at a high-end gym and went out for a long, quiet meal at an Italian bistro. I did not spend hours in the kitchen preparing the elaborate birthday meal I used to make for Paige. Afterward, I checked Paige’s forum. She had updated again. “My dad is completely unhinged now. Seriously, the man is having a psychotic break. Suddenly won’t cook, stopped managing the house, and even skipped my birthday.” “But it’s fine. The three of us—Mom, me, and Blake—celebrated at Blake’s place. Watching my bias’s new drama on his huge screen was heaven.” A user offered an analysis: “Maybe your dad just got tired of seeing you chase an idol so hard and he’s disappointed?” The thread split. One side supported Paige, mostly saying: “If you don’t have passions, what’s the point of living? Who cares about a K-pop idol? It’s not like you’re doing drugs. Having a joyless parent is the worst.” A smaller group said: “Everything in moderation. Maybe if you focused until college, your dad wouldn’t have such a problem.” Paige replied to that: “That’s where Blake shines. It’s no wonder Mom is crazy about him; he’s so understanding. My dad doesn’t compare to a single hair on Blake’s head.” “Anyway, the parent-teacher meeting is next week. There’s no way I’m letting Dad go.” Someone followed up: “You’re not actually going to take Blake, are you?” She responded instantly: “Duh, of course, I am! Blake is the best man I know. Mom is going to divorce my psycho dad soon anyway, and I’m definitely picking Mom and Blake.” My heart turned to a bitter shard of ice. The kind of cold that chills you to the bone. I didn’t get home until late that night. Paige and Diana were already back. They had clearly had a fantastic birthday celebration, but they were still wearing expressions of injured pride. Diana immediately started in. “Adam, it was our daughter’s birthday. Why did you make such a scene?” I countered: “I’ve celebrated both of your birthdays every single year. Have either of you ever done anything for mine?” She was caught off-guard, but she quickly turned hostile. “You’re changing the subject. You’re being ridiculous and petty.” Paige played the good daughter, stepping in. “Stop fighting. I don’t even care about presents.” Her mood was obviously good. I knew why. I’d seen the posts. Blake had given her $1,000 for her idol’s merchandise. As I expected, she didn’t mention the upcoming parent-teacher conference. As luck would have it, a friend of mine needed someone to cover a meeting for his son in the same class. I volunteered instantly. I wanted to see for myself who this “Little Dad” was. When I entered the classroom, I saw him. He was Blake Ellis, the sales associate at Diana’s boutique consulting firm. The firm only had three people: a receptionist, him, and her. He was young, maybe 25, and yes, conventionally handsome. I sat right behind him. Neither he nor Paige noticed me. The guidance counselor’s main task was to discuss college applications and career aspirations. When she got to Paige, Blake smiled warmly and said: “Paige won’t be taking the SATs. Her grades aren’t really strong enough anyway. Her mother and I just want her to be happy and healthy. No pressure.” The counselor, Ms. Reyes, was confused. I had met with her several times, begging her to pay extra attention to Paige’s declining performance. She instinctively asked: “You are Paige’s…?” Paige jumped up, beaming with pride. “He’s my dad.” Ms. Reyes glanced at me, sitting directly behind them, and then introduced me, completely bewildered. “Paige, your father is sitting right there. What is going on?” The whole room turned to stare at me and Blake, a chorus of confused murmurs breaking out. Paige spun around as if struck by lightning, clearly shocked to see me. I smiled, a thin, cruel expression I’d never worn before. “Paige, who exactly is your father?” The crowd exploded in whispers. “What is happening? The nerve of that child!” “She’s completely out of control. Someone needs to discipline her.” “First, she hires a fake dad for a school meeting, what will she do next?” Paige’s face was a mess of shame and anger. She hesitated, then, as if making a final, desperate choice, she spoke. “I’m not lying. Blake Ellis is my dad.” Ms. Reyes pressed her. “But Mr. Keller has always attended your meetings.” “He’s my uncle,” Paige insisted, her chin high. “My real dad died a long time ago. My mother only just remarried. He was afraid I’d be bullied without a father, so he was pretending to be him.” She spoke with righteous indignation, not a hint of shame. Though I had already decided to cut this daughter loose, seeing the child I had nurtured with all my love plunge a knife into my back still twisted my stomach. It was a cold, sharp, and excruciating pain. Ms. Reyes looked at me. “Mr. Keller, is that true?” I didn’t hesitate. I was done playing a role for them. I would give them what they wanted. “Yes, Ms. Reyes. Blake Ellis is Paige’s biological father.” “Regarding Paige’s education, you should take all instructions from Mr. Ellis.” 3 Paige dropped out of all her college prep courses. When we got home, she tried to cover her guilt. “Dad, don’t misunderstand. I lied because I was trying to save face.” “You don’t want the whole school to know I was lying and had a stand-in, do you? I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye again.” I let out a flat, indifferent laugh. “I know you were trying to save face.” She saw my smile, relaxed instantly, and, breathing a sigh of relief, probed me. “Dad, I stopped the SAT prep. You’re not mad, are you?” I gave her the same blank smile. “No. Not at all.” She wasn’t my daughter anymore. Getting angry would just be punishing myself. From now on, I wouldn’t have to pay for an elite education, fund college tuition, save for a down payment on a car or a house, or set aside a nest egg for her wedding. The truly relieved person was me. I was finally, profoundly unburdened. That evening, Diana called me. “Honey, can you wire me some cash? I’m networking out of town, and my expense account is running low.” Over the years, she had always demanded money as her birthright. I made 5,000 a month at my corporate job, but she felt her “genius” was wasted on that. She’d been trying to launch her own consulting startup for years, always traveling. She took a reliable 2,000 from me every month. I gave it without complaint, supporting her dream. But the knowledge that she had a lover out there made my stomach turn. “No money,” I said, my voice clinical. “I bought myself a macbook with this month’s pay.” Diana and I had started with nothing. Over the years, I’d hustled and worked my way up from a low salary to a stable, comfortable one. But I never bought anything I truly wanted, always putting the family first. Diana exploded when she heard I spent the money on a graphics card, furious that I hadn’t consulted her. I couldn’t stand her emotional torrent, so I hung up. She immediately sent me dozens of 60-second voice notes and a scathing, thousand-word text message. This was the first time in our marriage she had ever sent me so many messages. Before, I was the one sending them, and she would reply with a terse “K,” “Got it,” or often, nothing at all. Middle-aged marriages can retreat from passion into a polite numbness. I had gone from being hysterical about her indifference to becoming numb myself. I didn’t listen to the voice notes. I didn’t read the essay. I would now treat her the way she had treated me. Two days later, the cemetery director called me. “Mr. Keller, we had an unexpected situation. Your parents’ remains were removed, and the plot has been sold to a client who is very eager to buy it.” “I’ve been trying to reach your wife, but the line is constantly busy. Could you come in to sign the paperwork and finalize the sale?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I gripped the phone, shaking with fury. “What did you say? The remains were sold? Who sold them?” The director realized I had no idea, and his voice shrank to a terrified whisper. 4 “Your wife, Mrs. Diana Keller. She came in yesterday with two other clients.” “She… sold your parents’ cremains as a kind of morbid ‘posthumous arrangement.’ Your mother’s to a recently deceased elderly gentleman, and your father’s to a single, wealthy woman who passed away recently.” “Your wife instructed us to sell the plot now that the urns were gone, and we have a buyer ready.” My blood pressure spiked. I warned him: “Do not sell that plot. Do you understand? If you do, I will sue the cemetery into the ground.” My parents had loved each other their entire lives. Now, that lowlife Diana had sold their remains. I was about to call the police when Diana and Paige walked in. The first thing Diana did was grab a phone charger. “That was annoying. My phone died.” Neither of them noticed the volcanic fury on my face. One fiddled with her phone; the other threw her backpack into her room and called out to me like I was a servant. “Dad, I want Shrimp Scampi tonight.” Diana didn’t look up. “I have a business dinner. I’m eating out.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I looked straight at Diana. “Where did you sell my parents’ remains?” She finally looked up, her expression briefly flinching with guilt, before she forced a soothing tone. “Oh, that. I was going to tell you later.” “Your parents lived a hard life, honey. I just wanted them to have an easier time in the next life, you know? I found them wealthy ‘partners’ for their eternal rest. It’s my way of showing them respect as a daughter-in-law.” Her preposterous lie snapped my control. I hit her. The slap echoed through the silent house. Paige heard the noise and burst out of her room, screaming at me. “Dad, what is your problem?! Mom is trying to run a company! Why didn’t you support her? She wouldn’t have had to sell the ashes otherwise!” “You never look at your own faults. You only ever blame others!” Shaking from the inside out, I backhanded my daughter. It was the first time I had ever struck her. She couldn’t process the shock. Her face turned crimson, and she ran screaming out the front door. Diana immediately chased after her. I stood alone in the center of the living room, trying to extinguish the inferno in my chest. Then Diana’s phone vibrated. I snatched it up and checked the screen. It was a text from Blake Ellis. “Wifey I love you so much! And our daughter! I can’t believe you bought me that $5,0000 Rolex for my anniversary. I couldn’t bring myself to buy it, so I put the cash towards Paige’s fan club event instead. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy. I love you both.” “Tell our girl I’ll stay up all night with her watching her idol’s new reality show. When we’re done, I’ll give you your real reward (kiss emoji).” She had sold my parents’ ashes to buy her lover an expensive watch. My entire body felt hollow, burned out. It took me a long time to regain my equilibrium. The first thing I did was call my lawyer. I initiated a criminal complaint and filed for divorce. The second thing I did was call a realtor. I was listing the house immediately. If they wanted a bad life for me, I would make sure no one walked away unscathed. It didn’t take long for the police to confirm the buyers of the remains had already left the country, and the ashes were not recoverable. The next day, Diana rushed back, clutching two generic urns, trying to smooth things over. “Honey, I have a surprise for you! Ta-da! I got the ashes back! See? All better. Don’t be mad anymore.” I smiled, a meaningless expression. “Honey, I have a surprise for you, too. Close your eyes.” Diana was relieved, thinking she had successfully manipulated me back into place. She happily closed her eyes. She trusted me completely; I had always asked her to close her eyes when I gave her a gift. I counted silently: Three, two, one. A massive, authoritative sound of approaching footsteps echoed outside the door. This time, I was ensuring a final resolution.