When I Hired a Caregiver for My Father
I thought hiring a caregiver for my father, Frank, would make life easier. It was meant to give me peace of mind, not cause paranoia. But things took a strange turn when our personal belongings started mysteriously disappearing.
After a small fall left my father injured and unable to care for himself, I knew there was no other choice. His doctor recommended help, and for once, I agreed. I told him, “You need someone.”
That’s when Tessa entered our lives.
Enter Tessa: A Caring and Professional Presence
Tessa was in her thirties, with a friendly aura that made everyone feel comfortable. She was patient, gentle, kind, and professional—everything we needed. In no time, my father warmed up to her. He even started laughing again, something that hadn’t happened in months.
At first, I felt relieved to have the extra help. For the first time in months, I didn’t have to choose between my career and taking care of my father. But that sense of relief didn’t last long.
The Strange Feeling: Something Wasn’t Right
One night, as I was clearing the dishes after Tessa had left for the evening, my father grabbed my wrist with such urgency that it sent a chill down my spine. His face wore an expression of fear I hadn’t seen since my childhood.
“Honey, she’s not who she says she is,” he whispered, even though we were alone in the house. “And she’s stealing things.”
I hesitated, not wanting to believe it. “Dad, maybe you’re just forgetting. You know how forgetful you’ve been lately.”
But something about the situation felt off. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The Shocking Discovery
The next day, I decided to keep a close eye on Tessa. That evening, after work, I came home tired and went in through the back door to avoid waking my father. But as soon as I entered the hallway, I heard Tessa’s voice—low and desperate.
“No, it’s not time yet,” she whispered. “He’s weak. I think I need one or two more weeks.”
I silently backed away before she could notice me and locked myself in my room, my heart racing.
The next morning, I knew what I had to do. I was going to fire her that evening. But fate had other plans.
A Cry for Help
Later that day, I heard a cry. Not just any cry—my father’s cry!
In a panic, I rushed toward the sound, my heart pounding in my chest.
Tessa was kneeling in front of him, holding a stack of documents in her hands, trembling and sobbing. Just as I was about to scream or call the police, my eyes fell on the coffee table.
There, in plain sight, was my father’s old flannel shirt. My blouse was gone. And in Tessa’s hands—my heart almost stopped—was a DNA test!
“I only took the shirt and your blouse because I needed hair samples for the DNA test,” Tessa said, her voice trembling.
My father looked at me, then back at her, swallowing hard. “It’s my daughter. Your older sister, Monica.”
The Truth Comes Out: Family, Not Strangers
“But that strange phone call you made yesterday—I heard you. Who were you talking to, waiting for the results of the test?” I asked, bewildered.
“I was talking to a private investigator I hired recently after saving enough over the years. His job was to trace my biological father,” Tessa explained.
And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of Tessa. I stood there, speechless, completely shocked.
That’s when everything changed.
We were no longer strangers. We were family.
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