I was vacationing with my father in Clearwater Bay when my wife's male assistant suddenly sent me a photo of a man stripped naked and covered in blood, along with an arrogant voice message:
"Nat Dickerson, are you country people really this desperate to freeload?"
"Ms. Pruitt just bought this villa, and you're already letting your old man mooch off her? As her assistant, I have every right to protect her property from trespassers."
"This is what your father gets for breaking into the villa!"
I froze, then looked up at the man sitting across from me. My father was right there, perfectly fine.
I zoomed in on the photo.
My heart dropped. That was my father-in-law.
I immediately called Alex James. "Alex, have you lost your mind? That's Roberta Pruitt's father!"
Alex sounded utterly unconcerned.
"Ms. Pruitt made it clear—your father is your father, and her father is her father. She's never considered your dad family."
1.
He hung up before I could respond.
I didn't waste a second. I booked the next flight and rushed to the airport while dialing Roberta.
"Roberta, your father's at your new villa—Alex beat him. You need to get there now—"
"Enough. I know what you're trying to say."
Roberta cut me off, her voice cold. "I think Alex was right to teach him a lesson."
I went still. "What did you just say?"
She sighed, sounding almost weary.
"Nat, we may be married, but your father needs to understand basic boundaries. He can't just assume that being your dad entitles him to squeeze benefits out of me."
My pulse spiked. "You've got it wrong. He's your—"
"Enough!"
Roberta's patience snapped.
"So what if he's my father-in-law? I'm not obligated to tolerate his greed."
"Today he shows up at my villa uninvited. Tomorrow he'll be at my office demanding money."
"Alex teaching him a lesson, making him remember his place—that's for his own good."
Her words turned my frantic heart to ice.
My father may have come from the countryside, but he'd lived his whole life with kindness and integrity. He'd never taken advantage of anyone. With Roberta, he'd only ever given—never asked for anything in return.
When she was struggling to fund her startup, my father handed over his entire life savings without a moment's hesitation.
Knowing her stomach was weak, he'd carve out time no matter how busy he was to prepare nourishing foods and send them across the miles to the city.
Yet this man—who'd treated her like his own daughter—was now, in Roberta's words, a shameless freeloader who deserved to be beaten.
A hollow ache spread through my chest. My voice went flat.
"Roberta, he's hurt badly. I'm telling you to get him to a hospital. After all, he raised you. That wasn't easy."
Roberta exploded.
"What is wrong with you, Nat? When has your father ever raised me?"
"No wonder Alex couldn't help himself—with a son like you, your father deserves every hit he got!"
"My father is coming back from overseas soon. I have a welcome party to plan and surprises to arrange. I don't have time for your nonsense."
The line went dead.
On my way to the airport, I saw Roberta had posted on social media.
Just one short sentence:
"Father's coming home. I can finally show him the devotion he deserves."
I tapped the like button.
A thought flickered through my mind.
When she found out her father had been beaten bloody by Alex James, how would this devoted daughter react?
By evening, I arrived at Roberta's hilltop villa.
