After a Fatal Crash, I Took in a 3-Year-Old Girl – 13 Years Later, My Girlfriend Uncovered What My Daughter Was Hiding

Building a Life Together

Over the years, I built my entire life around her. Nights spent heating chicken nuggets at midnight. Ensuring Mr. Hopps was always within reach.

Switching to a steadier hospital schedule. Starting a college fund. We weren’t wealthy, not even close, but Avery never had to wonder if someone would show up for her school events or put food on the table.

She grew into a sharp, funny, stubborn girl who pretended not to care when I cheered too loudly at her soccer games but always scanned the bleachers to make sure I was there.

By sixteen, she had my sarcasm and her mother’s eyes — the only clue we had to the family she lost.

She would hop into the passenger seat after school, toss her backpack onto the floor, and tell me about grades.

“Okay, Dad, don’t freak out, but I got a B+ on my chemistry test.”

“That’s good, honey.”

“No, it’s tragic. Melissa got an A and she doesn’t even study.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, but I knew the smile tugging at her lips was genuine. She was my whole heart.

Meeting Marisa

I hadn’t dated much. After watching people disappear, I became selective. But last year, I met Marisa at the hospital — a nurse practitioner.

Smart, funny, polished. She remembered Avery’s favorite bubble tea order. She offered to drive Avery to activities when I had late shifts. Over time, I thought maybe I could have a partner without risking the bond I’d built with my daughter.

I even bought a ring, keeping it hidden in a small velvet box in my nightstand.

The Day Everything Almost Fell Apart

One evening, Marisa showed up at my door, panic written across her face. She held out her phone. “Your daughter is hiding something terrible from you,” she said, pointing to security footage.

I froze. A hooded figure entered my bedroom, fiddled with my safe, and stole money — my emergency cash, Avery’s college fund paperwork. My stomach dropped.

“I… Avery wouldn’t do this,” I whispered.

Marisa’s face tightened. “You’re blind where she’s concerned,” she said.

I stormed upstairs. Avery was at her desk, headphones on, pretending everything was normal. “Avery, have you been in my room when I wasn’t home?”

“Why would I?” she asked, defensive.

“Something’s missing from my safe,” I said.

Confusion, fear, and then anger crossed her face — her characteristic stubbornness.

“It wasn’t me, Dad! My gray hoodie disappeared two days ago. I thought maybe you washed it!”

I realized then that the figure in the footage wasn’t her. Marisa had manipulated the situation to make it look like Avery had stolen from me.

The Truth About Marisa

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