A grieving, lonely fisherman found hope and a reason to live when he discovered a baby boy abandoned on his doorstep. He adopted the boy and raised him with boundless love and pride. But 17 years later, a wealthy stranger arrived, threatening to tear their world apart and take the boy away.
The weathered fishing boat rocked gently against the dock as Lucas secured the last knot. At 54, his calloused hands moved with practiced ease, even as arthritis crept into his joints.
The small house on the village outskirts waited for him, just as it had every evening since Maria passed. No children’s laughter, no warm embrace — just the quiet company of his thoughts and the photos of the woman he’d loved too much to replace.
A man tying a boat | Source: Midjourney
“Evening, Lucas!” Old Tom called from his porch. “Good catch today?”
“Just enough,” Lucas answered, lifting his basket. “The fish aren’t as lonely as we are, eh?”
“You ought to get yourself a dog at least,” Tom suggested, not for the first time. “That cottage needs some life in it.”
Lucas smiled politely but said nothing. Maria had loved dogs. That was reason enough not to get one.
A sad man standing outside his cottage | Source: Midjourney
The flames danced in the fireplace as he settled into his chair, another solitary evening stretching before him. The day’s routine played through his mind: watering the tomatoes at dawn, feeding the chickens, and walking the empty streets to his boat.
He glanced at Maria’s photo on the mantel. “Should’ve listened when you wanted children,” he murmured. “Always said we had time. Now look at me, talking to your picture like you might answer back.”
Suddenly, a sound cut through his thoughts, faint but distinct. It was like a whimper or a cry carried on the winter wind. Lucas lowered his coffee cup and listened. There it was again, more insistent this time.
A man sitting by the fireplace | Source: Midjourney
His joints protested as he rose and shuffled to the door. The porch boards creaked beneath his feet as he peered into the darkness. Another cry, clearer now.
“Hello?” he called, but only silence answered.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw it — a woven basket on his doorstep, blankets stirring inside. As he knelt beside it, tiny fingers reached up, grasping at the cold night air.
“Dear God,” he whispered, gathering the bundle into his arms. A baby boy, no more than a few months old, stared up at him with big, curious eyes.
A baby wrapped in blankets in a basket | Source: Midjourney
“Where did you come from, little one?” Lucas scanned the empty street, but whoever had left this precious cargo was long gone, leaving just a note in the basket:
“Don’t look for me. Please take care of him. And love him like your own. Thanks & Goodbye.”
The baby whimpered, and Lucas felt something stir in his chest. It was an emotion he thought had died with Maria.
“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed, cradling the child close. “Let’s get you warm. Maria,” he whispered to the night sky, “I think you might’ve had a hand in this. You always said miracles come when we least expect them.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Unsplash
Inside, Lucas wrapped the baby in one of Maria’s old quilts, its faded flowers still soft after all these years. The infant’s cries settled into gentle coos as Lucas warmed some milk on the stove, remembering how old Tom’s daughter used to feed her babies.
“You need a name, little one,” he murmured, testing the milk’s temperature on his wrist. The baby’s tiny fingers wrapped around his weathered thumb, holding on with surprising strength. “You’ve got a good grip there. Like a fisherman.”
The baby gurgled, his eyes fixed on Lucas’s face with what seemed like curiosity. A tear rolled down Lucas’s cheek as he remembered Maria’s words from years ago:“A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
A baby covered in a cozy white blanket | Source: Unsplash
“Matias,” he said softly, the name coming to him like a whisper from the past. It was Maria’s father’s name, a good strong name for a boy. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
The baby cooed, a smile breaking across his tiny face. Lucas felt his heart melt completely.
“Then it’s decided. You’ll be my son, Matias. I may not have much, but everything I have is yours. We’ll figure this out together.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
That night, Lucas made a makeshift crib from an old wooden crate, lining it with soft blankets. He placed it next to his bed, unable to bear the thought of the child being alone in another room.
As moonlight filtered through the window, he watched Matias’s chest steadily rise and fall.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The baby slept peacefully, one tiny hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if already knowing he was home.
A baby holding a man’s finger | Source: Pexels
Seventeen years passed like leaves on the wind.
The garden grew fuller, nourished by the sound of Matias’s laughter. Every morning, Lucas would wake to find Matias already in the garden, talking to the chickens as he fed them.
“Morning, Dad!” Matias would call out. “Rosa laid two eggs today. She’s your favorite, isn’t she?”
“Just like you’re my favorite son,” Lucas would reply with a wink.
“I’m your only son,” Matias would laugh, the sound warming Lucas’s heart more than any summer sun.
A cheerful teenage boy laughing | Source: Midjourney
One morning, as they worked together in the garden, Matias looked up suddenly. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands stilled on the tomato vines. “Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas pulled his son close, soil-covered hands and all. “Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
“Even greater than when Mom said yes to marrying you?” Matias asked, his voice muffled against Lucas’s shirt.
“She would have loved you to the moon and back,” Lucas said, his voice rough with emotion. “Sometimes I see her in the way you tend to these plants. She had that same gentle touch.”
A cheerful older man smiling | Source: Midjourney
Each morning, Lucas watched his son devour breakfast before school, marveling at how the abandoned baby had grown into this bright, energetic young man. Matias’s eyes — so mysterious that first night — now sparkled with intelligence and mischief.
“Dad!” he called, bursting through the door after school. “Coach says I might make team captain next season!”
Lucas looked up from his fishing nets, pride warming his weathered face. “That’s my boy. Your mother would have—” He caught himself, as he sometimes did, speaking of Maria as if she were Matias’s birth mother.
A delighted teenage boy at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Tell me about her again?” Matias asked softly. “About how she used to garden? How she’d sing while cooking?”
“Another time, son. These nets won’t mend themselves.”
“You always say that,” Matias teased, grabbing an apple from the bowl. “One day you’ll run out of nets to mend, and then you’ll have to tell me everything.”
“Everything, eh?” Lucas chuckled. “Like how you used to think the chickens laid different colored eggs because they ate rainbow seeds?”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside cut through their comfortable chatter. Through the window, Lucas watched a sleek red Mercedes pull up. It looked completely out of place in their humble neighborhood, like a peacock in a chicken coop.
A red car outside a cottage | Source: Midjourney
A tall man in an expensive suit emerged from the car, his shoes too shiny for their dusty street. He approached with purpose, each step measured and confident.
The knock, when it came, seemed to echo through the house.
“Can I help you?” Lucas asked, opening the door just wide enough.
“Mr. Lucas?” The man’s voice was cultured and careful. “I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
A rich, suited man at a doorway | Source: Midjourney
The words hit Lucas like a gut punch. He had always lived in constant fear of their peaceful life being shattered. But he never imagined it would happen so quickly.
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his fingers tightening on the doorframe until his knuckles went white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder. “Hello, Matias.”
“How do you know my name?” Matias stepped forward, despite Lucas’s protective arm.
“Because you’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
A startled teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Lucas felt his legs go weak, but he stepped aside. In the living room, Matias sat close to him on the worn sofa, their shoulders touching.
“You can’t just come in here,” Lucas said, his voice trembling. “You can’t just walk into our lives after 17 years and—”
“Dad,” Matias touched his arm gently. “Let’s hear him out.”
The story spilled out like water from a broken dam. Elijah spoke of his sister — Matias’s mother — of her struggles, her disappearance, and her deathbed confession just weeks ago.
A shocked senior man | Source: Midjourney
“She was young and scared,” Elijah explained, his perfectly manicured hands clasped in his lap. “Our father wouldn’t have understood. She ran away with you after her boyfriend, your dad, dumped her, hoping you could have a better life than she could provide at that time.”
“So she left me on a doorstep?” Matias’s voice cracked. “Like I was NOTHING?”
“She watched,” Elijah said softly. “She watched Lucas take you in. Watched from afar as you grew. She chose this house because she’d seen Lucas with his wife, before. She knew you’d be loved here. She told us everything when we found her, after 17 exhausting years.”
A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
“You have to understand,” Elijah continued, turning to Lucas, “he’s all we have left of her. And there’s so much waiting for him. The best schools, connections, opportunities. A life beyond…” he gestured at their modest surroundings.
“This life,” Lucas interrupted, his voice fierce, “has been filled with more love than any luxurious mansion could hold.”
“Dad, please,” Matias whispered, squeezing his hand.
A distressed older man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Lucas’s voice broke. “You deserve more than fish nets and vegetable gardens. More than an old man’s company.”
“He deserves a better life,” Elijah chimed in.
“I want to go,” Matias said softly after a long silence.
Lucas turned, stung. The words felt like Maria dying all over again.
“Son—”
An emotional teenage boy with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
“Just to know them. To understand.” Matias’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “I’ll come back, Dad. I promise. I need to know where I came from to know where I’m going.”
“Of course you will.” Lucas forced the words past the lump in his throat. “This is your home. It always will be.”
The goodbye was quick, too quick for 17 years of love. Lucas helped pack a bag, his hands shaking as he folded Matias’s favorite blue sweater, the one he’d saved three months of fishing money to buy.
An emotional man holding a blue sweater | Source: Midjourney
“The garden,” Matias said suddenly, pausing at the door. “Don’t let it die while I’m gone. Mom’s roses especially.”
Lucas nodded, not trusting his voice.
“I’ll call every day,” Matias promised, hugging him fiercely. “Every single day. And I’ll be back before you know it.”
Lucas stood in the doorway, watching the red Mercedes disappear, taking his heart with it. The last thing he saw was Matias’s face turned backward, watching him through the rear window, pressing his hand against the glass.
A boy sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
Days blurred together. And the silence around Lucas grew heavier with each passing week.
Matias’s calls came regularly at first, full of wonder at his new world. Then, less frequently, shorter, until they felt like conversations with a stranger.
The vegetables ripened and died on the vine. Lucas couldn’t bear to pick them up without Matias’s help. Even the chickens seemed to miss him. Rosa wouldn’t lay eggs for days, and the others pecked listlessly at their feed.
“He’s not coming back, is he, girl?” Lucas murmured to Rosa one morning. “Can’t blame him. Who’d choose this hut over the castle they’re offering him?”
A sad older man hugging a chicken | Source: Midjourney
Every night, he’d sit in Matias’s room, looking at the soccer trophies, the school photos, and the little seashell collection they’d gathered together over the years.
“He’s living the life he deserves,” Lucas told Maria’s picture each night. “The life you’d have wanted for our own. But God, I miss him. Miss him like I miss you.”
The house felt bigger somehow. And emptier. The silence was no longer peaceful but oppressive. Lucas found himself talking to the chickens more, just to hear a voice — any voice — in the yard.
A teary-eyed older man sitting in a chair | Source: Midjourney
Then, one evening, a knock came at the door as Lucas sat staring at his untouched dinner. Different from that first time. Softer, uncertain.
He opened the door to find Matias standing there, shoulders slumped and eyes red.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Matias said simply. “The beds are too soft and the house is too big. Everything’s too much and not enough.”
“Son, what are you—”
A heartbroken boy holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“They’re nice, Dad. They’re my blood. But you’re…” Matias’s voice broke. “You’re my FATHER! The only one I’ve ever needed. The only one I’ll ever need. I can’t be without you.”
“The chickens have been clucking your name all day!” Lucas joked, wiping away a tear.
“Just the chickens?” Matias managed a watery smile.
Tears welled in Lucas’s eyes as he looked at his son, his heart overflowing with love and pride. “What about your uncle?”
An emotional older man crying | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m sure he’ll come for me again. But this time, I’m not leaving you… no matter what.”
Lucas pulled him close, feeling the tears soaking into his shirt. “Welcome home, son! Welcome home.”
As they walked into the house, Matias looked around, his face glowing with nostalgia and relief. He took Lucas’s hand, holding it tightly as if to make up for the weeks they’d been apart. They knew they were all each other needed.
Silhouette of a man with a teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
My Best Friend Set Me Up at Work to Get Me Fired So She Could Take My Promotion
Kera and Sam were more than best friends; they were family. They built their careers together, side by side, until a promotion turned everything into a competition. When Kera is accused of theft, she thinks her life is over… until an unexpected secret is exposed. In the end, she learns that betrayal runs deep, but karma cuts deeper.
I always thought betrayal would come with warning signs, like whispers behind my back, a shift in tone, something to tip me off before the knife slid in.
But no.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Instead, betrayal came with a smile. With a hug. With the promise of friendship.
My name is Kera. I’m twenty-eight years old, and everything I have now, I built from nothing.
I was left at an orphanage as a baby. There was no note, no explanation. Nothing. Just an abandoned girl who grew up bouncing between foster homes, learning that while people wanted to be nice, the only person she could truly rely on was herself.
A little girl playing with toys | Source: Midjourney
That was until Sam.
We met when we were eight, two kids with no families, clinging to each other like lifelines. We learned to cook together, sneaking into the orphanage kitchen at night to steal peanut butter or test recipes that we saw on TV.
We dreamed of becoming chefs, of running our own restaurant someday.
“One day, Kera,” Sam said. “One day, we’ll have big kitchens and lots of money! And we can buy all the food we want.”
“I know,” I said, smiling.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
It felt good to dream. It felt good to look forward to something. To see a future that was bigger than we ever thought we could have.
And we worked for it, too.
We got into culinary school on scholarships and hopes. And, surprisingly, we graduated at the top of our class. We thrived on creativity and passion. On the days we felt like giving up, we pushed through. We pushed each other, and if we fell, we fell together.
“I’ll always be here, Sammy,” I told her one day after we ended up in the ER.
A woman standing in an ER | Source: Midjourney
Sam had been too enthusiastic when chopping up herbs and had an incident with a knife.
“I know, K,” she said, smiling through her painkillers. “It’s together or nothing, right, sis?”
Eventually, we landed jobs at one of the best restaurants in the city. We didn’t know how Lady Luck kept shining on us, but we were grateful that she did.
Side by side, Sam and I climbed the ranks, proving ourselves in the brutal, high-pressure world of professional kitchens.
A woman working in a professional kitchen | Source: Midjourney
So when the head chef position opened up, we were both the top candidates.
That day, after the announcement, Sam pulled me aside.
“No matter what happens, let’s not let this ruin our friendship, okay?” she said, squeezing my hand.
I smiled.
A woman working in a professional kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Of course,” I said. “Nothing changes. But I am starving. Let’s get some food on our break. A greasy cheeseburger from that place down the road sounds like it would hit the spot.”
She smiled back, but there was something… off. A little too much relief in her voice, like she already knew how this would play out.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s meet there. I have something to do first. A pharmacy run, you know.”
The interior of a pharmacy | Source: Midjourney
I ignored the feeling. Sam was my best friend, after all.
But I shouldn’t have ignored any of my feelings. The first worrying sign was when Sam didn’t meet me for lunch during our break. She just didn’t show up.
That evening, after the dinner service, I was cleaning up my station when our boss, Chef Reynard, stormed into the kitchen. His face was like stone, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine.
Food on a pass in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“I didn’t expect this from you, Kera!” he thundered. “I thought you were better…”
Silence fell. The entire staff froze, utensils clattering, conversations dying mid-sentence.
“Chef?” I swallowed hard.
He turned to the room.
“Everyone, to the break room. Now!”
An upset chef | Source: Midjourney
The weight of his words sank into my stomach like lead. Something was very, very wrong. What was Chef on about?
We filed in, confused, exchanging nervous glances. Chef Reynard stood at the front, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“This evening, during an inventory check, something was found,” he said. “Stolen black caviar. In Kera’s bag.”
I stopped breathing. I broke out into a sweat. I felt dizzy.
A woman’s bag | Source: Midjourney
My bag?
My stomach twisted into a hundred knots.
“That’s impossible!” I gasped.
Chef Reynard didn’t react.
“I announced earlier today that I’d be doing an inspection. Someone’s been stealing from my kitchen.”
His eyes were sharp, scanning the room.
A pantry | Source: Midjourney
“And tonight… I found this.”
He held up a small glass jar of caviar, the kind we only used for high-end VIP guests who ordered top-shelf alcohol like it was absolutely nothing.
I stared at Chef’s hand, looking at the glass jar like it was a snake, waiting to strike.
“I didn’t take that,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I swear on my life, Chef. I would never… I would never jeopardize my position here!”
“Then, Kera, how did it end up in your bag?” His voice was calm but firm.
A jar of caviar | Source: Midjourney
I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn’t have an answer. I felt dizzy.
Sam sat beside me, her hands clasped in her lap. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She didn’t offer an encouraging smile. Or a hand squeeze.
A sick feeling curdled in my gut.
Chef Reynard exhaled.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t fire you right now.”
An angry chef | Source: Midjourney
I froze.
“Come, Kera. Tell me.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I looked around the room, at my coworkers, at the people I had worked beside for years. Some of them looked skeptical. Some looked outright disappointed.
But Sam?
She just sat there. Silent.
A woman sitting | Source: Midjourney
That’s when I knew.
She knew about the inspection. She was the one who did it. Her eyebrows were furrowed like they always were when she was up to something.
Chef Reynard had been on the phone earlier that morning, talking about the missing inventory, saying that he planned to check bags after our shift. But I hadn’t thought anything of it. There was no reason for me to.
But Sam had overheard. When we were changing into our uniform in the locker room she smacked my arm to make me stop talking so that she could hear what Chef was saying.
A woman looking down | Source: Midjourney
But… Sam? Would she really do that to me? Or was my imagination just running wild because the thought of me losing my job was so… close?
I felt the knife twist before I even knew it was there.
I stood up, my throat closing.
“I…” I couldn’t even get the words out.
“I should go…”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Chef Reynard didn’t say anything. He just looked at me for a moment, his eyes softening.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl into a ball and just cry for a few hours. My career, everything that I had worked so hard for, was over.
I turned toward the door, my heart shattering.
“Stop, Kera,” he said.
I turned back, blinking through tears.
A door in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Chef Reynard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ultraviolet flashlight.
The room went still again.
“There’s a security measure in place,” he said, his voice even. “I have marked all the caviar jars with an invisible, transparent ink, one that leaves residue on anyone who touches it. This is the new batch, and no one has worked with these yet, so only the person who stole the jar would have the stuff on their hands.”
A ripple of murmurs swept through the staff.
A flashlight | Source: Midjourney
He held the jar under the light, and sure enough, a faint, glowing mark was smeared along the lid.
“We started doing this a few years ago when we had another case of sticky fingers. One of our waiters was walking away with our caviar and bottles of champagne, ready to sell on the internet.”
Then he turned the light to his hands. They were clean except for his fingers, where he had held the jar moments before.
His eyes met mine, and he almost smiled.
Bottles of champagne | Source: Midjourney
“Everyone, hands out. Now.”
One by one, we stretched our arms out as he held the light to them.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Dirty nails.
Nothing.
Then…
A faint glow appeared on someone’s fingertips.
Ink on a woman’s hand | Source: Midjourney
That’s when the entire world tilted.
Sam.
The soft blue stain lit up on her skin, it was unmistakable. A choked sound left my throat. My best friend, my sister, sat there, caught red-handed.
Chef Reynard stared at her in disbelief.
“I need you to explain yourself,” Chef said.
“I… Chef…” Sam tried to say, her face drained of color.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I never thought someone would do this to their best friend,” he said quietly.
Then, his voice hardened and his face darkened, anger taking over.
“You set her up? You set Kera up? You were willing to destroy her career for a promotion?”
Her mouth opened, desperate.
“Maybe someone else touched it before me… and I touched something they touched.”
An angry chef | Source: Midjourney
Chef Reynard didn’t even blink.
“Just go, Sam.”
I watched her grasp for anything to save herself. But there was nothing.
She knew it.
I knew it.
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the tiles. Her eyes flicked to me, just for a second.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
And in that second, I saw something that made my blood boil.
Sam didn’t think she’d get caught.
She wasn’t sorry. She was angry.
She stormed out, and just like that, she was gone.
The room was silent.
I was still shaking. I felt betrayed and hurt, heartache worse than I’d ever felt before.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“Kera,” Chef Reynard said.
“I meant what I said,” he continued. “I don’t tolerate thieves in my kitchen. And I couldn’t believe that it was you. I just… couldn’t. Let’s go to my office.”
We went to his office. I followed him quietly, my hands still shaking.
“Kera,” he said, sitting down. “I didn’t want to believe it because I had just drawn up something for you. But I need you to know that I don’t tolerate people who betray their own.”
An office | Source: Midjourney
He placed a single piece of paper in front of me.
A contract.
“You worked your butt off for this place, my girl,” he said. “I’ve noticed it from the beginning. And you’ve earned your spot as head chef.”
I took a deep breath.
“I had nothing to do with Sam’s actions,” I said. “Absolutely nothing.”
A contract on an office desk | Source: Midjourney
He smiled and held a pen out for me.
And I signed my name.
After my shift, I stopped at a food truck on my way home, trying to wrap my mind around everything. How was I going to go to our apartment and face Sam?
I wanted to slap her for almost costing me my job, but I was also worried about what she was going to do next.
I had been saving over the years. Sam had not, wanting to spend everything on clothing and alcohol. I highly doubted she had any savings, or at least enough to get by until she got a new job.
People outside a food truck | Source: Midjourney
But I shouldn’t have worried.
When I walked into our apartment, Jenna, our roommate, was sitting on the couch playing video games. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
“She’s gone,” Jenna said, pausing the game.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She’s gone. She packed up, and some guy named Dylan came to help her take her things. She said to tell you that she wanted more for herself and that she needs to find her happiness out of your shadow.”
A woman playing video games | Source: Midjourney
What the actual heck?
“Thanks, Jenna,” I said, flopping down on the couch next to her.
“What happened? She got fired? She quit?”
“How about I tell you tomorrow?” I asked. “I just want to get into bed.”
I was devastated, but I had never felt the way I had before. There was so much anger and hurt. Pain that demanded to be felt.
If this is what Sam was truly capable of, then maybe I was better off without her.
An upset woman lying in her bed | Source: Midjourney
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