A few years ago, I shared a post about how my father cheated on my mother and how I retaliated against him financially and socially. Since then, there have been new developments, so here’s an update.
For those who read my original post, there’s some good news to share. About five months after I posted, my cousin reached out. He had hit a rough patch—he lost his job and realized the golden-child life he had been raised in had left him unprepared for the real world. He didn’t graduate high school because he assumed his family’s wealth and his legacy status would guarantee him a job at the local plant. Unfortunately for him, the plant changed its hiring policies, and without a degree or trade certificate, he couldn’t find work. His situation changed when he met a wonderful woman who encouraged him to take responsibility for his life. He apologized to me and my sister, and we accepted it. Since then, he’s gone back to community college, earned a degree, and started working at the plant last August. That’s one relationship saved.
At my cousin’s wedding, my aunt also tried to make amends. She’d had a falling out with my father, and maybe her son had talked some sense into her. We were cautious but decided to give her a chance. She’s been friendly and made an effort to connect with my niece and nephew. While we’re still keeping her at arm’s length, she’s shown no signs of malicious intent, and I’m hopeful people can change. That’s two relationships saved.
Then there’s my grandmother. She’ll be 85 this April, and we’ve always been close. It hurt to go low-contact with her after our last interaction, but my father had tried to manipulate her into signing over her estate (a story for another time). She refused, and they had a major falling out. They didn’t speak for a year until my cousin’s wedding.
At the wedding, my father avoided me and my sister but bragged to my brother-in-law about buying a house for himself and his mistress. We assumed he could afford it with his substantial pension, but later my aunt let it slip that he’d taken out a loan for the house. To make things worse, the deed wasn’t even in his name but in the name of his mistress’s oldest son.
Meanwhile, I’ve been busy building my life. Thanks to a career opportunity, my mother’s divorce settlement, and my sister’s support, I managed to buy a house for my mom and me, even in this insane housing market. It’s a huge financial burden, but I’m proud to own a home—and I made sure my father had no part in it.
In late November, tragedy struck when a childhood friend of mine died in a car accident. I was devastated and decided to move back home temporarily to care for my grandmother and give myself a change of scenery.
Seven days after the funeral, my father showed up at my doorstep. Still grieving, I had zero patience for him. He awkwardly made small talk before revealing the real reason for his visit: his mistress’s second child, a college-bound stepdaughter, wanted a house in my city. She didn’t want to live in a dorm or share an apartment—she wanted an entire house. Having already taken out a loan for her brother’s house, my father couldn’t afford this, so he came to me for money.
This is the same man who left my sister to fend for herself when she went to college and openly stated he’d rather see me dead. Yet here he was, begging for money to appease his mistress and her child. I couldn’t believe the audacity.
Unfortunately for him, he picked the worst moment to ask. Still raw from my friend’s death, I unleashed all my pent-up anger. I don’t even remember everything I said, but I know I tore into him. When my aunt and cousin arrived, he bolted. That was last month, and I haven’t heard from him since—not that I care.
The encounter left me shaken. It stings to know my father prioritizes a child that isn’t his over his own kids. I’ve had sleepless nights wondering why—what we did, or what was missing in his life that made him seek satisfaction elsewhere.
As much as I say I’m over it, deep down, I still hope for a reunion. I hope he’ll someday come to his senses and try to make amends. It’s unlikely, but I can’t help hoping. That said, I’m keeping my guard up. If anything, this experience has made me more determined to protect myself and my family. But hope? I guess I’ll always have that.