My Father Didn't Know I Had Cancer Until I Died

“You’ve been spoiled rotten by your mother!”

Stephan’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I watched as he rushed over to help Lorene up. Anger boiled inside me and I stepped forward, desperate to tell him the truth.

“Dad, they’re lying to you. They’re only after your money! I heard them said it in—”

But he didn’t even let me finish. With a wave of his hand, he shoved me aside. I stumbled, falling to the floor, glass shards digging into my palms. The sharp pain shot through me and I winced.

Seeing the blood pooling in my hand, my father froze. For a moment, it looked like he was about to reach out to help, but he stopped himself. His face hardened as he spoke, his voice cold. “You brought this on yourself,” he said. “From now on, Lorene is your mother and Cassandra is your sister. If you can’t accept them, don’t bother calling me ‘Dad’!”

My hand throbbed, the glass still lodged in my skin. I clenched my fist, holding back the pain and looked up at the man who had once promised to protect me.

“Then I wish you have a great new life with them, Mr. Murdoch,” I said, my voice steady. The father who loved me had already gone and the daughter who was stood in front of him right now, wouldn’t stay around for long.  The moment I raised to my feet, dizziness washed over me, made sway and limping. Mildred, our long-time housekeeper, rushed over to help, but my father barked at her.

“Stay away from her! Let her get on her feet on her own!”

“If you don’t want to be my daughter anymore, then get out of my house. And don’t think you can take a single thing with you!”

I swallowed down the taste of blood in my mouth and forced a smile at Mildred, signaling that I was okay.

“Nothing in this house is valuable anyway. Think I want to burden myself with trash?”

My father’s face darkened at my words, his expression full of hatred and anger. Ignoring him, I went upstairs to pack my things. When I came back down, Lorene and Cassandra were sitting with my father, their words dripping with fake concern for me, all the while reminding him of my so-called ‘rebellion.’

My eyes landed on the family photo in the living room—the only photo of my mother, father and me together. After a moment of hesitation, I walked over to take it.

That picture was my mother’s favorite. It was the only thing left that mattered to me. Seeing what I was about to do, Lorene quickly stepped forward, pretending to be concerned.

“Valerie, why don’t you just apologize to your father? If your mother were here, she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

She took the photo and held it up. “Oh, such a lovely picture.”

“Look, Honey,” she turned to my dad swiftly. I lunged forward to grab it, but before I could even touch Lorene, she fell onto the coffee table. She fell on her own.

“What are you doing?!” Cassandra shrieked, rushing to her mother’s side. “She didn’t do anything! Why would you push her?”

My father, who had been silent until now, glared at me, his eyes flicking between Lorene and the photo in my hands.

“I told you, you’re not taking anything from this house. Not even that photo.”

His words made me sick to my gut and I couldn’t wait to leave this house. That thought made me glance at my suitcase and then my father barked an order at Mildred.

“Empty that case out! Every last thing in that suitcase was bought with my money.

Mildred hesitated, but under his watchful gaze, she could only lower her eyes, reluctantly picking up my luggage and carrying it away. In my hand, my mother’s smile shone from the photograph. I stared at my father, my heart growing colder with each passing second.

“This photo was taken by Mom and she printed it with her money,” I said as I tore the photo in two.

“You can keep the other half,” I said quietly, holding it out to him. Seeing that he wasn’t going to take it, I placed the other half on the table in front of him and turned to walk out the door.

Rain poured down heavily, but I didn’t care. I left that house with nothing but half of a torn photograph. As I glanced back through the door, I saw my father standing there, picking up the photo and throwing it straight into the trash.