I Tried to Keep the Past Buried But My Grandson Dug Up the Truth Over Pancakes — Story of the Day
February 11, 2025
I thought I could sneak away, bury the past for good. But when my grandson blackmailed me into taking him, my daughter forced her way in, and my ex conveniently needed a ride—I knew the past wasn't done with me yet.
I returned home later than I had planned. The night was cold, and the wind chased fallen leaves along the driveway. Belinda had retreated to her room without a word, still shaken by our earlier conversation.
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The house was silent. Even Bugsy was lying sprawled out on the couch, too exhausted to lift his head. But I had no time for sleep.
I opened the closet. Somewhere inside, buried beneath boxes of old letters and forgotten postcards, was my jewelry box—the one that had held pieces of my past, untouched for years.
I had just begun rummaging through the mess when, out of the darkness, like a ghost, Scooter appeared.
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"You looking for something, ma’am?" he asked in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
I rolled my eyes. "Not now, Theo. Inside, there is an address for my morning trip. Go to bed."
"What are you looking for?"
"My jewelry box. And why are you still awake?"
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A sly grin spread across his face.
"Then I’ll tell you where it is… if you take me with you tomorrow."
"This is a very important matter. Children shouldn’t interfere."
"I’m not a child," he declared, puffing out his chest with pride. "If you don’t take me, Grandpa Harold will have me all to himself for the entire day."
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I bit my lip in frustration. Handing my grandson over to Harold? Oh no. That old fool would probably teach him how to make homemade cider or fill his head with nonsense like, "Back in my day, we did things differently…"
"You’ve learned how to negotiate quite well. Just like me."
Scooter grinned victoriously and raised a finger, signaling me to follow him. I had no choice. We climbed up to the attic—his "headquarters".
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It turned out he had created an entire archive of objects he had collected from around the house: a one-legged doll, postcards I had thrown away weeks ago, candy wrappers, and an assortment of trinkets he proudly called his "findings."
Amidst this treasure trove, he reached into the pile and ceremoniously handed me my jewelry box.
Inside were things I had buried away long ago: receipts from different countries, old tickets, scribbled notes, and the very scrap of paper I had been searching for.
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"Now, off to bed," I ordered. "We’re leaving early. And remember—this is our secret. No one must know."
The boy nodded, but I could already see the thrill of mystery gleaming in his eyes.
I looked down at the worn scrap of paper with an address scribbled on it. Next to it was an old photograph: two little girls. Those girls used to live in a family that wasn’t theirs. It was time to remind Nina of the childhood we had both left behind.
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***
As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, I carefully opened the front door and tiptoed outside, hoping Scooter was still asleep. But no.
He was already sitting on the porch, bundled up in his jacket, his backpack strapped on tight, stuffed to the brim with who-knows-what.
"I packed us food for the road," he announced proudly. "And I brushed my teeth."
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I let out a deep sigh. "Looks like I don’t have a choice."
I was about to head to the car when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
"I’m coming too."
Belinda stood in the doorway, glancing around anxiously as if worried someone else in the house might catch her.
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I groaned. "And what do you have to do with this?"
"If you’re going to look for… well, you know…" she glanced at Scooter, then back at me, lowering her voice, "...then this concerns me too. Last night was… complicated for us. But anyway, let’s go. Someone has to keep this kid entertained while you drive."
I glanced at Scooter.
"There’s enough sandwiches for everyone," he said cheerfully, shaking his backpack.
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We had barely left the city when we spotted Harold on the side of the road. His car sat with a flat tire, and he leaned against the hood with an air of calmness, as if he had been waiting for us.
I barely had time to slow down before he waved us down.
"Ah, what a lucky coincidence!"
I rolled down the window and gave him a sharp look.
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"Not so lucky for me."
"I got a flat tire. Think you could give me a ride?"
"We can’t."
"I’ll just sit in the car. Won’t be a bother."
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I clenched my jaw. "You’re already a bother."
"But it’s so hot today, and the repair shop is far," he said, feigning exhaustion.
Scooter beamed at him.
"Grandma Vivi, let’s take him! This is a real adventure! But it’s a secret one! Grandma Vivi said no one can know where we’re going!"
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"Scooter!" I snapped.
Harold grinned.
"Ohhh, more secrets, honey?"
"Not your concern. And stop calling me that!"
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"You used to like it," he smirked, but then quickly quieted when he saw the warning in my eyes.
I huffed, glaring at him before jerking my head toward the car. "Get in."
Scooter practically bounced with excitement.
"This is going to be the best adventure!"
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***
The road stretched ahead, long and empty. Harold lounged in the passenger seat, his legs spread comfortably as if he owned the car.
Belinda was in the back, eyes on the horizon, trying to ignore the fact that Scooter was bouncing beside her like an overexcited detective on his first big case.
"So," Scooter started, flipping open his notebook, "where exactly are we going?"
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"Nowhere," I said flatly.
He narrowed his eyes. "People don’t pack secret sandwiches for ‘nowhere.’"
Belinda pinched the bridge of her nose. "Theo, maybe you should just enjoy the ride?"
"But this isn’t just a ride. It’s an investigation," he insisted, clicking his pen open. "And every investigation needs facts."
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I shot Harold a warning look before he could enjoy that too much. Scooter tapped his pen against his notebook.
"So. We’re heading to a place no one is supposed to know about. You two are acting weird. Grandma is nervous, which never happens, and now Grandpa Harold is here, which seems like a mistake. That means," he grinned, "this is big."
Harold chuckled. "You’ve got a sharp mind, kid."
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Scooter beamed, then turned back to me. "So tell me, Grandma, are we chasing a lost treasure? A long-lost sibling? Maybe a secret crime from the past?"
I nearly swerved into the next lane.
"Absolutely not," Belinda blurted.
"No crimes," I added quickly.
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Scooter squinted suspiciously. "Hmm. That’s exactly what someone covering up a crime would say."
Harold snorted. "He’s got you there, Vivi."
I shot him another look. "You want to walk?"
Scooter, ignoring the tension, continued. "Okay, if it’s not treasure or crime, maybe… an old romance?"
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Belinda coughed into her hand. Harold’s lips twitched.
I groaned. "I am not discussing romance with a ten-year-old in the backseat of my car."
Scooter tapped his chin dramatically.
"Fine, then. Let’s focus on the facts." He flipped back a few pages in his notebook.
"Grandma was up late last night. She went to the attic. That means she was looking for something important. Then, this morning, she woke up early, which is weird. Then we left in secret."
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Belinda sighed. "This is exhausting."
"Oh, and one more thing!" Scooter announced. "Grandma’s hands were shaking when she grabbed the car keys. And Grandma’s hands never shake."
I tightened my grip on the wheel. Harold raised an eyebrow, his voice softer than usual.
"Vivi?"
"I’m fine," I muttered.
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Scooter laughed, pleased with himself, and Harold just shook his head with a knowing look. Belinda finally rubbed her temples.
"For once in your life, Theo, can you just eat a sandwich and stop talking?"
Scooter dramatically sighed but obeyed, pulling out a sandwich from his backpack. The car fell into an uneasy silence, filled only with the sound of chewing and the hum of the road beneath us.
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***
An hour later, we pulled up in front of an old house on the outskirts of town. It looked frozen in time, unchanged for decades. The eerie silence surrounded the place, as if it existed outside of time itself.
Suddenly, Harold stiffened in his seat. His hand gripped the edge of the dashboard as his eyes darted toward me.
"No… it can’t be."
"What can’t be?"
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"This is Nina’s house. Why are we here?"
Belinda and I exchanged glances.
"How do you know this address?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"A long time ago, after you and I… well, after we ended things… I moved nearby your house. I wanted to be close enough to at least see my son sometimes. And maybe, one day, even my grandkids," he added with a touch of sarcasm.
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I rolled my eyes. "Spare me the history lesson. I already know this story."
"You were always traveling, and Nina lived here, helping Belinda around the house. We got close. It was a good time. Then, one day, she disappeared. I came back here, found her in the yard with a baby… Baby girl… But I wasn’t welcome anymore. I’ve spent my whole life wondering…"
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He hesitated before finishing, "What if that baby was mine?"
I shook my head. "You can relax. That’s definitely not your child."
"Then whose daughter is she?"
Belinda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "She’s… my daughter."
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Silence. Scooter nearly jumped out of his seat. "Secrets! Again!"
Belinda turned toward me. "How do you even know this address?"
I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "Nina wasn’t just our nanny. She was my childhood friend. We grew up together in the same foster home."
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Belinda’s head snapped toward me. Harold didn’t blink. Scooter clutched his notebook, looking thrilled.
Harold finally smirked. "Oh, you love secrets, don’t you, honey?"
I ignored him. The words I had just spoken felt like a weight lifting from my chest. No one in my family truly knew my past. Certainly not that I was once an orphan.
"I suppose it’s time to reveal another secret. But first, let’s find Nina. After all, this is her secret too."
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If you enjoyed the third part of the story, read the previous one: I thought my daughter was hiding a scandal. So, I followed her. But when she slipped into a stranger’s house in the dead of night, then ran out like she’d seen a ghost—I realized I was chasing something far worse. Read the full story here.
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