Things took a turn when Henry visited and noticed my distress. He asked about the soap and, upon examining it, realized it was not ordinary soap but a harsh industrial cleaner. “This isn’t soap; it’s toxic!” he exclaimed.
Devastated by the discovery, I was torn between reporting my father and accepting the cruelty I had endured. Instead, Henry helped me move out to a small apartment where I finally felt safe.
Seeking answers, I confronted my father. When I presented the soap and demanded an explanation, he callously revealed the truth: A fortune teller during his vacation had claimed my mother had been unfaithful, and I wasn’t his biological child. Fueled by anger, he decided to punish both my mother and me.
“You’re not my daughter,” he said coldly. “You’re not my blood.”
The revelation shattered me. My father had punished me for something beyond my control, and my mother had remained silent. I informed him I was done and would be pursuing legal action.
Now, living with Henry, I’m slowly rebuilding my life. I’ve filed a restraining order against my father and started legal proceedings. My mother’s attempts to reach out are ignored; she failed to protect me when I needed her most.
Henry has been my source of strength, helping me rediscover joy and peace. I’m grateful for his support as I navigate this challenging journey.
