Daughter Disappears, Father Tracks Her Phone and Loses the Gift of Speech – Story the Day

Widowed Peter faces a new crisis: his daughter has been unreachable for three days. In desperation, he reaches out to her university, which is in another state, only to be stunned by the revelation that she was never enrolled there. Peter hires a hacker who tracks his daughter, but the truth stuns him.

Peter sat alone at his grand dining table, the clinking of his silverware echoing in the spacious room. He ate mechanically, his mind preoccupied. Every few bites, he'd pause to glance at his phone, hoping for a response from Catherine, his daughter. She hadn't answered any of his calls for three days now, a fact that gnawed at him incessantly.

He reached out again, dialing her number with a sense of urgency. The phone rang, and rang, but as before, there was no answer. Sighing heavily, Peter set the phone down, his gaze drifting to a framed photo on the wall. It was Carolyn, his late wife, radiant as ever in the captured moment. She had been gone for nine years, taken tragically in a road accident when Catherine was just a teenager.

Peter's thoughts wandered to those days, "My dear Caroline. If only you were around, you could help Catherine and I find a common language," he mused silently. The loss of Carolyn had been a deep wound in their lives, one that never truly healed. It created a rift between him and Catherine, growing wider with each passing year.

Since Carolyn's passing, Peter had thrown himself into his work, burying his grief in endless business deals and late nights at the office. He remembered how Catherine's eyes, once bright and full of warmth when she looked at him, had gradually grown colder. He couldn't blame her. He was there, but not really present in her life. His attempts at bridging the gap, often coming off as controlling or out of touch, only seemed to push her further away.

Despite their strained relationship, Peter loved his daughter dearly and wanted nothing but the best for her. He had dreams for her, dreams of success and happiness, though he now wondered if his vision for her life was what she truly wanted. The silent phone on the table was a stark reminder of the distance between them, a gap he didn't know how to bridge.

Three days prior, Peter sat in his dimly lit study, phone in hand, preparing to call Catherine. The familiar sense of apprehension filled him as he dialed her number. Their conversations were always tense, lacking the warmth and ease that once defined their relationship.

As Catherine answered, her voice was distant, devoid of enthusiasm. "Hello, Dad," she said, her tone guarded.

Peter, trying to sound upbeat, launched into his news. "Catherine, I've been talking to a friend of mine, a well-known businessman. He's got an opening in his company. When you're done with university in six months, I want to help you get that job. It's a great opportunity, back here in our hometown," he explained, hoping she'd see it as a positive step.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a silence that felt heavy and charged. Then Catherine's voice, sharp and laced with frustration, broke through. "You decide my fate for me again!" she exclaimed. Her words were like a thunderclap, echoing her long-held resentment.

Peter was taken aback, but Catherine continued, her voice rising. "I never wanted to go to that university. You know I always wanted to dance, to follow my passion. But you made me give it up, forced me into a life I never chose!"

Peter tried to interject, to explain his intentions, but Catherine was relentless. "No, Dad. I won't let you control my life anymore. I'm not going to be part of your plans. I'm going to make my own choices, my own destiny!" With those final words, she hung up, leaving Peter alone with the dial tone ringing in his ears.

He sat there, phone still in hand, feeling a deep sense of loss. The gap between him and his daughter felt insurmountable. He had only wanted the best for her, but now he realized that his idea of 'best' was not what Catherine wanted for herself.

Peter paced around kitchen, his mind racing. The realization that he knew virtually nothing about his daughter's life outside of what he had planned for her weighed heavily on him. He didn't know her friends, her favorite hangout spots, or even what she liked to do in her free time. Feeling a sense of desperation, he decided to call Alan, his business partner and the only connection he had to Catherine's world in her university city.

He picked up his phone and dialed Alan's number. The line rang twice before Alan's deep, steady voice answered.

"Alan, it's Peter," he began, trying to sound calm.

"Hey, Peter. What's up?" Alan's voice was warm, a stark contrast to Peter's anxious tone.

"I'm a bit worried about Catherine. She hasn't been answering my calls for three days. Have you seen her recently? Do you know if she's okay?" Peter's voice betrayed his concern.

There was a brief pause before Alan replied, "Peter, I haven't seen Catherine for a while now. The last time we spoke was maybe a month ago? She seemed fine then, but I haven't kept in touch since. You know how busy it gets here."

Peter's heart sank a little. "I see. I thought maybe she had mentioned something to you, or you might have seen her around."

"No, Peter, I'm sorry. She's pretty independent, you know. She doesn't really check in with me unless she needs something," Alan responded, his tone sympathetic.

Peter sighed, a mixture of frustration and worry evident in his voice. "Alright, Alan. Thanks anyway. If you do hear from her or see her, could you let me know?"

"Of course, Peter. I'll let you know right away if I hear anything. Try not to worry too much, okay?" Alan tried to offer some reassurance.

"Thanks, Alan. I appreciate it. Goodbye." Peter ended the call, feeling more helpless than before. He stood there, phone in hand, realizing how little he knew about his own daughter's life. It was a sobering thought, one that made him question the choices he had made as a father. He knew he had to find her, not just to ensure she was safe, but also to bridge the ever-growing gap between them.

Peter, his hands slightly trembling, dialed the number of the university where he believed Catherine had been studying. The line clicked, and a polite, professional voice answered.

"University Secretariat, how can I assist you?" the woman on the other end inquired.

"Hello, my name is Peter Greenwood. I'm calling about my daughter, Catherine Greenwood. I haven't been able to reach her for a few days, and I'm getting worried. Could you please check if she's attending her classes? Or maybe if everything is okay with her?" Peter's voice was laced with concern.

"Of course, Mr. Greenwood. Can I have her full name for our records?" the woman asked in a calm and collected manner.

"It's Catherine Greenwood," Peter replied, his voice growing more anxious.

There was a pause as the sound of typing echoed through the phone. Then the woman's voice returned, filled with confusion. "I'm sorry, Mr. Greenwood, but according to our records, there's no student by that name enrolled at our university."

Peter felt a cold shock run through him. "What do you mean? She should be in her final year there. I've been sending money to her account for her tuition, about fifty thousand dollars each year."

The woman's tone turned sympathetic. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Greenwood, but there's no record of a Catherine Greenwood here. You might want to verify the details or contact the bank."

Stunned, Peter could barely formulate a response. "Thank you," he managed to say before ending the call.

He sat motionless for a moment, trying to process the information. His mind raced with questions and fears. Had Catherine been deceiving him all these years? Where had all the money gone? With a growing sense of urgency, Peter quickly got dressed, his mind made up. He needed to find answers, and the police might be his only hope. He grabbed his keys and headed to his car, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of worry and confusion.

Peter strode into the police station, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. He found Officer Mount's office and knocked before entering.

"Good afternoon, officer," Peter greeted, trying to sound composed.

The officer looked up from his newspaper, his expression one of mild interest. "Good day! Introduce yourself, please, and tell us what brought you here,” he said in a routine manner.

"My name is Peter Greenwood. My daughter, Catherine, is missing," Peter stated, his voice revealing his underlying panic.

He then recounted the entire sequence of events, explaining how Catherine hadn't responded to his calls and the shocking discovery that she was not registered at the university. Officer Mount listened, occasionally nodding, his expression unchanging.

After Peter finished, Officer Mount asked, "Tell me, please, do you know any of her friends or anyone she might be spending time with?"

Peter hesitated, realizing with a sinking feeling that he didn't have an answer. "I... I don't know," he admitted reluctantly.

"Does she have a boyfriend or a close group she hangs out with?" the officer probed further.

Again, Peter had to admit his ignorance. "I'm not sure, officer. We... we haven't been very close."

The officer leaned back in his chair, regarding Peter with a mixture of skepticism and pity. "Mr. Greenwood, it sounds like your daughter might just need some space. Sometimes young people...”

But Peter was hardly listening. The implication that Catherine was simply avoiding him, rather than potentially in danger, infuriated him. He felt a surge of frustration at the officer's nonchalant attitude.

"Thank you, officer, but I'll handle this myself," Peter said abruptly, turning on his heel and leaving the office.

As he exited the police station, Peter's mind was racing. He felt helpless yet determined. He knew he had to find Catherine himself. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

Peter, feeling desperate and determined, returned home with a plan forming in his mind. He needed to find his daughter, and for that, he needed someone with special skills. He thought of Simon, a leading programmer in his company known for his exceptional hacking abilities.

Picking up his phone, he dialed Simon's number. The line rang briefly before Simon answered with a casual, "Hey, this is Simon."

"Simon, it's Peter Greenwood," Peter said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need your help with something important. It's about my daughter, Catherine."

"What's up?" Simon asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"I can't find her, and she's not answering her calls. I need you to track her phone, find out where she is, or where she spends her time," Peter explained, his voice laced with urgency.

There was a moment of silence before Simon cautiously replied, "Mr. Greenwood, you know that's not exactly... legal, right?"

"I'm aware, Simon. But I'm desperate. I'll make it worth your while – a generous reward," Peter offered, his desperation evident.

After a brief hesitation, Simon agreed. "Okay, Mr. Greenwood. I'll come over."

An hour later, Simon arrived at Peter's house with a backpack full of equipment. He set up his laptop on the dining table, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he initiated the tracking process. Peter watched, a mix of hope and anxiety churning inside him as Simon worked methodically, the glow of the computer screen casting a blue light in the dim room.

Simon's concentration was intense as he navigated through complex software, his skills evident in every precise keystroke. Peter waited, each second stretching out endlessly, hoping against hope that Simon's efforts would lead him to Catherine.

Simon's fingers danced over the keyboard in a rhythmic pattern, his eyes fixed on the screen. Peter watched, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread. The room was silent except for the soft tapping of keys and the occasional sigh from Peter. Forty minutes felt like an eternity as Peter waited, his mind racing with possibilities.

Finally, Simon turned towards him. "Mr. Greenwood," he called, breaking the tense silence. "I managed to trace her phone. Here's the address." He pointed to the screen where an address blinked back at them. "She is here now. It's a nightclub called the Red Moon,” Simon's voice was neutral, but Peter felt a jolt of shock.

Peter leaned in to look at the screen, his eyes scanning the address. "This is the town she's studying in," he muttered under his breath, a mix of realization and disbelief coloring his tone.

"Can you see where she spends most of her time at night?" Peter asked, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

Simon hesitated for a moment. "It will take a lot of time to analyze her movement patterns," he said slowly. "But I can do something right now." He paused, looking at Peter. "I can hack into her phone's camera. We can see what's happening in real time."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. "Do it," he said firmly, bracing himself for what he might see.

Simon worked quickly, his fingers moving with practiced ease. After ten tense minutes, the screen changed, and a live video feed appeared. Peter's breath caught in his throat as he saw Catherine. She was on stage at a nightclub, dressed in a revealing leotard, surrounded by other girls dancing around what looked like strip poles.

"It can't be," Peter whispered in disbelief. The scene before him was so far from what he had imagined for his daughter. The sound from the video filled the room, the voice of a woman encouraging Catherine, "Come on Catherine! Come on baby!” she shouted, her tone enthusiastic.

Peter's heart sank. He felt a wave of emotions - shock, confusion, and a deep sense of distress. He watched, paralyzed for a moment, as Catherine danced, the men in the crowd cheering.

Snapping back to reality, Peter stood up abruptly, his mind made up. "I have to go there. I need to find her," he said, his voice filled with a mix of determination and fear.

He began to dress quickly, his movements mechanical. Simon watched silently, knowing there was nothing more he could do to help. Peter's mind was racing with thoughts and worries as he prepared to confront a situation he never imagined he'd face. He was going to that city, to find Catherine, to face a reality he had never known existed.

Peter climbed into his car, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He started the engine and set off on the long 400-mile drive to the town where Catherine was. As he drove through the night, the quiet hum of the car was the only sound accompanying his tumultuous thoughts.

He kept replaying the recent revelations about his daughter. How had it come to this? He thought she was studying at the university, diligently preparing for a future he had envisioned for her. The idea that she had been living a completely different life, deceiving him all these years, was almost too much to bear. He couldn't help but think about the money, about $200,000 in total, that he had sent over four years, believing it was for her education. It pained him to think that his hard-earned money might have been used for something he never approved of.

Peter's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought about the video Simon had shown him. The image of Catherine dancing in that nightclub, so different from the daughter he thought he knew, filled him with a sense of shame and disbelief. He struggled to reconcile this image with his memories of the little girl who once looked up to him with innocent eyes.

As dawn broke, Peter arrived in the city, tired but determined. He drove straight to the address of the nightclub he had seen in the video. The streets were quiet in the early morning, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind.

When he reached the club, he found it closed, but the club's administrator was just arriving to start the day. Peter parked his car and approached, preparing himself for the confrontation ahead. He was about to step into a world he never knew his daughter was a part of.

Peter approached the club's door where a woman was standing. She looked at him with curiosity.

"Good morning. We're closed now," she said.

"I need help. My name is Peter," he replied. "I'm looking for my daughter, Catherine. I believe she works here as a dancer."

The woman shook her head. "We don't employ dancers like that. This is a regular nightclub."

Peter insisted, "I saw her in a video. She was dancing here, on stage."

The woman thought for a moment. "You must mean 'Dancing Queen'. They were here for a private event. They're not part of our regular staff."

Peter's eyes widened. "Dancing Queen? Can you give me their manager's contact?"

The woman smiled slightly. "They're well-known around here. Just search 'Dancing Queen' online. You'll find all you need."

Peter nodded, thanking her. Peter stepped away from the club and pulled out his smartphone. He followed the club administrator's advice and typed "Dancing Queen" into the search bar. The screen filled with results, and Peter scrolled through them in disbelief.

He saw poster after poster, advertisement after advertisement, all featuring the Dancing Queen dance team. In each one, there was Catherine, right in the center. She wore various dresses and leotards, looking confident and radiant. Peter stared at the images, feeling a mix of shock and confusion.

He could not feel proud or happy. Instead, he felt a deep sense of shame. He had always thought of dancing in a way that didn't align with these images. In his mind, his daughter was doing something disgraceful.

His eyes then caught a contact number for the manager of the dance group. He hesitated for a moment, then dialed the number.

Peter's call connected, and a cheerful voice answered.

"Hello, good day!" the woman said brightly.

Peter cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. Is this 'Dancing Queen'?”

"Yes, you've got it right. I'm Amanda, the manager. How can I assist you?" she replied.

Peter hesitated, then said, "I'm Chuck. I want to book your group for a performance. My birthday celebration."

Amanda's tone remained upbeat. "Sure, Chuck. When do you need us?"

"January 13th," Peter said quickly. "But first, I'd like to see your rehearsal. To understand your dance styles."

"Of course, Chuck! That's fine. Our rehearsal starts in two hours. I'll text you the address. You can join us then," Amanda replied.

Peter nodded, though he realized she couldn't see him. "Thank you, Amanda. I'll be there." He ended the call, his mind racing with what he might discover at the rehearsal.

Two hours later, Peter arrived at the dance hall where "Dancing Queen" was practicing. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his heart racing with apprehension. The room was alive with music and movement. Dancers were practicing, their movements graceful and powerful.

His eyes quickly found one dancer in particular. She moved with an incredible energy and grace, captivating everyone watching. She was stunning, her every move radiating both boldness and a strange kind of elegance. It took Peter a moment, but he recognized her. It was Catherine, his daughter.

Catherine danced with a passion that Peter had never seen in her before. She was the center of attention, her performance both daring and tasteful. Peter stood there, frozen, watching his daughter in a way he never had.

Suddenly, Catherine glanced up and saw Peter. For a moment, their eyes met, and a wave of emotions passed between them. She moved swiftly across the floor, her dance abruptly ending. Reaching the phone connected to the speakers, she turned off the music, silencing the room. The sudden quiet was stark against the backdrop of the lively rehearsal. The other dancers paused, looking on curiously as Catherine approached Peter.Catherine signaled the other dancers. "Let's take a 10-minute break," she announced, then turned to face Peter.

She eyed him with a mix of surprise and challenge. "So, you're Chuck, huh?"

Peter, filled with mixed emotions, responded firmly, "I think it's time I asked the questions."

Catherine's expression hardened. "Talk to me like that, and I'm walking out. Understand?"

Peter's voice was heavy with accusation. "You've lied to me for years. I called your university. You never enrolled!"

Catherine's response was fierce. "I never wanted to go. That was your choice, not mine! Here, I chose my path, not dictated by you!"

Peter, struggling with disbelief, asked, "What did you do with the money I sent?"

Catherine's answer was quick and sharp. "I used it. For living. Rent. Food. Dance classes. I even started this dance team. I'll pay you back. I've made enough."

Peter, still in shock, questioned, "You run Dancing Queen?"

"Yes," Catherine confirmed. "We've been successful for over a year."

Peter's voice shook. "You're a stripper. Is this the life you wanted?"

Catherine's response was fiery. "I am not a stripper. I don't work in strip clubs. Our dance includes elements of strip plastic, but it's different. It's about talent, not selling my body."

Peter, trying to appeal to her, started, "What would your mother say..."

Catherine cut him off. "Don't bring mom into this. She would have understood me." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

The ringing of Catherine's phone cut through the tense air. Peter saw Alan's face on the screen, labeled "My Love."

"Is that Alan? And he's 'My Love' on your phone? Are you two together?" Peter asked, disbelief and shock in his voice.

Catherine answered calmly, "Yes, for three years now. He even proposed to me recently."

Peter clutched his head, reeling from the revelation. "I can't believe this. What happened to you, Catherine?"

Before Catherine could respond, her phone rang again. It was Alan. She answered, forgetting her phone was still connected to the speakers. Everyone in the hall heard Alan's voice. "Hello, dear, I'm outside. I got off work early. Let's have lunch."

Peter, fueled by a mix of emotions, dashed downstairs. Catherine followed, shouting, "Dad, stop! What are you doing?"

Outside, Peter spotted Alan's car. He rushed over, flung open the door, and confronted Alan. "How could you? With my daughter?"

Alan tried to explain, "Peter, it's not what you think. Catherine and I..."

But Peter was not listening. He accused Alan of taking advantage of Catherine. Alan defended himself, insisting on the truth of their feelings for each other.

The argument escalated quickly. Pushes were exchanged, voices raised. Catherine ran up, pulling them apart. "Stop it! Both of you!"

She faced her father, anger in her eyes. "I don't want to see you, Dad. You're still the same. You try to control everything. I owe you nothing, except the education money. I'll pay that back."

With that, Catherine and Alan got into the car and drove away.

Peter stood there, alone and defeated. But he wasn't ready to give up. He was determined to get his daughter away from Alan and bring her back home, no matter what it took.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, Peter found a hotel nearby to spend the night. He hardly slept, his mind replaying the events of the day and his plan for the next. As soon as the first light of morning crept through the curtains, he was up, driven by a single purpose.

He drove to the office building where Alan worked. Parking his car at a safe distance, he settled in to watch the entrance. Peter's eyes were fixed on the doors, waiting to catch a glimpse of Alan. He felt like a detective, though his mission was personal.

After what felt like hours, Peter finally saw Alan exit the building. He quickly started his car and followed at a safe distance, trying not to draw attention. The drive led them out of the city center and into a quieter, residential area.

Eventually, Alan's car pulled up in front of a small, quaint house on the outskirts. Peter watched as a young woman emerged from the house. She was dressed in high heels and a short skirt, instantly recognizable to Peter as one of the dancers from "Dancing Queen." Peter's heart sank as he watched her approach Alan's car, lean in, and kiss him.

Peter's suspicions seemed confirmed. He felt a mix of anger and sadness, witnessing what he believed was a betrayal. This scene added another layer to his already complicated feelings about his daughter and her life choices.

Peter watched in disbelief as Alan and the girl shared a kiss. A surge of anger overtook him. He couldn't just sit there. He got out of his car and marched towards Alan's vehicle, his fists clenched at his sides.

Reaching the car, Peter pounded on the window, his face red with fury. Alan, looking surprisingly calm, stepped out of the car. "Let's not make this physical, Peter. We can talk," he said, holding his hands up as a sign of peace.

Peter was seething. "You're with my daughter, and now this? You're cheating on her! She deserves to know the truth!"

Alan looked at Peter, a smirk on his face. "She won't find out. Because if you tell Catherine, I'll expose your dirty secrets to our investors. You've been siphoning company funds. Remember? I have all the proof."

Peter felt a cold wave of fear. His illegal activities at the company were his deepest secret. "If they find out, you're finished," Alan continued. "You'll lose everything."

Peter stood frozen, realizing the gravity of the situation. He was trapped.

Alan's smirk grew wider. "And one more thing, Peter. Maybe this will help you see things more clearly. Catherine is so good in bed. Far better than this girl," he whispered maliciously.

With those final words, Alan got back into his car and drove away, leaving Peter standing there, defeated and shattered. He had lost control of everything he thought he knew.

That evening, Peter's car slowly approached Alan's house. His expression was stern, his mind set on what he needed to do. He parked a short distance away, hidden in the shadows. Peter knew this was the moment to confront Alan alone. He had checked Catherine's dance practice schedule and knew she would be busy training.

Peter waited patiently, his eyes fixed on the house. He watched as the front door opened and Catherine stepped out. She walked briskly to her car, not noticing Peter's presence. Once she drove off, Peter knew it was time.

He got out of his car, his footsteps steady and determined. As he walked towards Alan's house, his heart beat faster. This was it. He was about to face the man who had caused so much turmoil in his and Catherine's life.

Reaching the front door, Peter took a deep breath, preparing himself for the confrontation. He was ready to face Alan, to demand answers, and to try to put an end to this complicated situation. It was time to take control and hopefully start to mend the fractured relationship with his daughter.

Peter stood at Alan's doorstep, his expression serious. Alan opened the door, a hint of sarcasm in his smile.

"Hello, Alan!" Peter greeted firmly.

Alan raised an eyebrow. "Here to fight again?"

Peter shook his head. "No. I want to talk. I know I can't change your mind or Catherine's. But we need to sort out our future dealings."

Alan nodded, a trace of respect in his eyes. "Good to see you're thinking straight. Come in."

Inside, Alan moved to the fridge. "Beer?" he offered.

Peter nodded. "Yes, thank you."

They settled in the living room. Peter looked around, curious. "This is a nice place. Mind showing me around?"

Alan stood up. "Sure, let's go."

They walked through the house, Alan pointing out various features. Peter followed, his mind working on what he was going to do with Alan.

Alan proudly showed Peter around his house, boasting about each room's unique features. The tour ended in the basement, which Alan revealed with a flourish. "Check this out, my pride and joy – my wine cellar. Look at these bottles; some are worth over $5,000," he said, his voice filled with pride.

Without warning, Peter acted on a sudden, overwhelming impulse. He pushed Alan into the wine cellar and slammed the door shut, locking it. Alan's shouts of surprise and anger echoed from behind the door, but Peter ignored them, his mind clouded with a mix of emotions.

He quickly ascended the stairs to the kitchen, where he made a drastic decision. He turned the gas stove on high, letting the gas hiss out. With a grim determination, he set fire to the curtains hanging nearby. The flames caught quickly, spreading to the tablecloth and engulfing the room.

As Peter made his way to the exit, Catherine unexpectedly walked in. "Alan, I forgot my dancing shoes, so I..." Her words trailed off as she saw the fire and her father, but no sign of Alan.

Panic filled her eyes as she took in the scene. The kitchen was ablaze, and her father stood there, a mix of determination and regret on his face. Confusion and fear gripped her as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her gaze shifted between the fire and her father, trying to piece together the events that led to this moment of chaos.

"Dad! Why are you here? What's with all the smoke?" she yelled, rushing into the kitchen.

She saw the flames and sprang into action. Grabbing a nearby fire extinguisher, she aimed it at the fire, her movements quick and precise. The foam covered the flames, and slowly, the fire died down, leaving behind a mess of soot and extinguished embers.

Breathing heavily, Catherine then ran to the basement door and flung it open. Alan stumbled out, his face a mix of fear and anger. "He tried to kill me! He set the house on fire with me inside!" Alan shouted, pointing accusingly at Peter.

Peter, his face flushed with emotion, retorted, "He is the real problem, Catherine! He is cheating on you, Catherine! I saw him with one of your dance teammates!"

The accusation hit Catherine like a physical blow. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to process her father's words. "You're both awful!" she cried out. She grabbed her jacket, her tears flowing freely. "I hate this! I hate both of you!" With those words, she ran out of the house, her heart heavy with betrayal and confusion.

She got into her car, her hands shaking as she started the engine. She drove away, leaving the chaos and the broken relationships behind. The drive was a blur, her mind overwhelmed with the events that had just unfolded.After Catherine's departure, the atmosphere in the house was thick with tension. Alan glared at Peter, his expression a mixture of anger and triumph.

"You've really messed up, Peter," Alan said, his voice cold. "My house has CCTV everywhere, even in the basement. It's all recorded. I'll show it to the investors, tell them about your illegal activities. The police will see it too. You're looking at years in prison."

Peter felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't considered the possibility of being recorded. His plan had backfired terribly.

Alan continued, "You have one way out. Bring me one million dollars in cash in two days, and I might forget all this happened. If not, you know what's waiting for you."

Peter, desperate, replied, "I don't have a million. I can get 600 thousand, but that's it."

Alan sneered. "I don't care if it's not enough. Just bring what you have and get out. You have two days, Peter."

Feeling defeated and cornered, Peter turned and left the house. His mind was racing as he drove to the hotel. He needed to figure out a way to handle this situation. But first, he tried to call Catherine. He dialed her number again and again, but she didn't answer. Each unanswered call added to his growing sense of despair.

Sitting alone in his hotel room, Peter realized the gravity of his situation. He was trapped in a web of his own making, with no clear way out. He needed to come up with a plan, and fast. But right now, all he could think about was how everything had gone so terribly wrong.

In his hotel room, Peter sat with his phone in hand, calling Catherine repeatedly. Each time it went to voicemail, his heart sank a little more. He typed out a desperate text, explaining Alan's blackmail, how he needed to find a large sum of money quickly, or face dire consequences. But still, Catherine didn't respond.

Feeling helpless and alone, Peter turned to the only comfort he could find – a bottle of liquor. He drank, trying to numb the pain and the fear of what lay ahead. He was saying goodbye to the life he knew, bracing himself for the reality of prison. His thoughts were a jumble of regret, fear, and sorrow.

Late into the night, a knock at the door jolted him. He stumbled to answer it, expecting police officers. But instead, he found Catherine standing there, tears streaming down her face, holding a black bag.

"Daughter, I'm so glad you're back," Peter said, his voice cracking as he reached out to embrace her.

Catherine stepped back, avoiding his hug. She held out the bag to him, her expression one of pain and resolve. "Here's 400,000 dollars. I earned this doing what you never believed in, what you didn't allow me to do. Take this money, but in return, I don't want you in my life anymore," she said, her voice firm yet breaking.

Peter was speechless, the weight of her words hitting him like a physical blow. He took the bag, his hands shaking.

Catherine turned and walked away, leaving Peter standing there in the doorway, the bag of money in his hands. He slumped to the floor, overwhelmed by the enormity of what had just happened. Tears streamed down his face as he realized the full extent of what he had lost – not just his freedom but his daughter's love and trust. The room felt colder, emptier, as he sat there alone, holding the result of his daughter's hard work and the symbol of their broken relationship.

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If you enjoyed this story - here’s another one | On her wedding day, the bride was left heartbroken as her fiancé disappeared, leaving her at the altar. In a surprising turn of events, she received a message request from him, shrouded in intrigue and unanswered questions. - Read the full story here.

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