Vera Anderson waited for her husband and son to return from a business trip. They’d gone to a neighbouring county to expand their company and open a new branch. Things had been going well for her husband and their son, James. The family business was thriving.
Vera couldn’t wait for them to come home—especially James. She had urgent news about his wife, Laura, who was about to give birth. Everyone knew Laura didn’t love James, but they tolerated her for the sake of the coming grandchild.
One day, Vera overheard Laura on the phone saying:
*”Once the baby’s born, I’m leaving—taking the kid with me. I’ll grab what I can from the house and disappear. There’s plenty here to take.”*
Vera’s first instinct was to call James and warn him, but she hesitated—he and his father had an important meeting. She’d tell them when they got home.
*”We’ll take the baby from the hospital. Let Laura go wherever she pleases—she doesn’t want the child anyway.”*
When Laura went into labour, her husband and son were already on their way back. An ambulance took Laura to the hospital. But soon after, Vera got a call—there’d been an accident. Her husband died instantly; James survived for twenty minutes before passing, but he whispered:
*”Take the child from her.”*
The investigator explained that there’d been no child in the car. But Vera murmured:
*”My son’s wife just gave birth. That’s my grandson—they’re still at the hospital. Laura doesn’t want the baby—that’s why James said it.”*
She didn’t hold out much hope, but still, she went to the hospital herself and brought Laura home. How she endured it all, she didn’t know. Thomas, a close friend of the family and their company’s financial manager, took charge of everything—the funeral, the arrangements—while a doctor kept watch over Vera.
He also brought Laura and little Oliver home from the hospital. After her husband’s death, Laura lingered in the big house. Vera hired a nanny—she couldn’t care for Oliver alone while managing the company’s affairs, which now fell entirely to her. Thomas handled everything else, and she trusted him completely.
Laura barely paid attention to her son, often vanishing for days. Six months later, she took Oliver and disappeared with money she’d stolen from her father-in-law’s desk. The safe, though, had been beyond her—she didn’t know the code.
Vera was shattered. Oliver was all she had left of James. But soon, Laura reappeared.
*”You owe me money—and the company shares I’m entitled to after my husband’s death. If you don’t hand them over, you’ll never see your grandson again. I’ll dump him in an orphanage, and you’ll never find him.”*
Vera gave her everything—legally, and more. She even handed over the gold jewellery Laura demanded.
*”Laura, please—let me see Oliver,”* she pleaded. Laura agreed but never kept her promise.
Time passed. Vera slowly recovered and took over the business, with Thomas as her right-hand man. He was honest, dependable—but still, the grief of losing Oliver weighed on her.
Thomas suggested going to the police.
*”I know a detective—let’s go straight to him,”* he said. Vera agreed.
The investigation revealed Laura had fallen in with a bad crowd. She’d handed over the shares, expecting a grand house—but they left her in a rundown shack instead. Betrayed, she drowned her sorrows and neglected Oliver—until one of her drinking companions gave her an ultimatum:
*”Choose—me or the boy.”*
She chose him. Together, they drove Oliver into the woods and abandoned him.
The detective learned all this when tracking down the men trying to offload the stolen shares. Laura confessed where she’d left the boy—but he was gone. They searched but never found him. Laura was arrested.
Years earlier, in a nearby village…
Emily had grown up in an orphanage. When it was time to start her life, she settled in a small village just outside the city. The council gave her a modest house—nothing fancy, but solid enough.
*”It’s not new, but it’s mine,”* she thought, thrilled. *”I’ll make it cosy—just like I always dreamed.”*
She got a job at the local canteen. Cooking had always been her passion—even back at the orphanage, she’d helped in the kitchen. Slowly, life improved. She fixed up the house with help from her neighbour, Daniel, a shy young man who’d taken a quiet liking to her.
One day, she went mushroom-picking. Deep in the woods, she spotted a small boy curled under a bush—dirty, fast asleep.
*”Oh, sweetheart,”* she whispered, brushing his cheek.
He woke with a start, crying and thrashing as she lifted him.
*”Shh, I won’t hurt you,”* she murmured, holding him close. *”Come home with me.”*
He quieted—exhausted, trusting. Back home, she bathed and fed him. Daniel fetched the village nurse, who confirmed the boy was just weak from hunger and exposure.
*”What’s your name?”* Emily asked. Silence. *”Alright then—I’ll call you Alfie.”*
The villagers rallied around, bringing clothes and food. Alfie stayed close to Emily, flinching from strangers. And then, one day—he called her *”Mum.”*
Tears spilled as he finally began speaking. *”You’re my boy now,”* she whispered.
But social services came. *”You’re young, unmarried—he needs a stable family.”*
Despite her pleas, they took Alfie. Heartbroken, she turned to Daniel.
*”Help me—I can’t lose him! They won’t let me adopt unless I’m married!”*
He hesitated—then confessed: *”Emily, I’d be honoured. I’ve wanted to ask for ages.”*
They wed quickly, returned to the orphanage—and Alfie sprinted into their arms.
Years later, a sleek car pulled up at their cottage. A well-dressed woman stepped out, gazing at Emily with quiet intensity.
*”You must be Emily. I’m Vera Anderson—Alfie’s grandmother.”*
Emily froze. But Vera smiled gently.
*”Don’t fear—I won’t take him. He’s happy here.”*
She showed a photo—James, Alfie’s father. The resemblance was uncanny.
The truth unfolded—the accident, Laura’s betrayal, the desperate search. Vera had seen Alfie on TV—a maths champion—and tracked them down.
*”I’d like a DNA test—just for legalities. Then I’ll settle the inheritance. The business will be his one day, if he chooses.”*
When Alfie came home, wariness flickered—then faded. He felt it too—family.
That New Year, Vera arrived laden with gifts. Over dinner, she announced plans—a grand family home nearby, the business secured for Alfie’s future.
*”Plenty of work ahead—but first, university,”* she said, smiling.
And as they toasted, hands clapping in joy, the future—at last—felt whole.
