I Adopted My Late Girlfriend’s Daughter… Ten Years Later, She Said She Was Going Back to Her Real Dad — Then Spoke a Name That Destroyed Me

Ten years ago, I officially adopted Grace, the little girl my late girlfriend, Laura, had brought into this world.

Before Laura and I ever met, she had been involved with another man. She became pregnant, and when she told Grace’s biological father, he vanished. No goodbye. No child support. No attempts to check in. He simply disappeared as if neither Laura nor the baby existed.

A few years later, Laura came into my life. She was warm, gentle, and impossible not to love. We fell for each other quickly. At that time, Grace was only five years old. I built her a treehouse in the backyard, ran beside her while she learned to ride her bike, and fumbled my way through learning how to braid her hair before school.

I was ready to propose. I had already bought the ring.

But cancer stole Laura from us. She died holding my hand, and before she slipped away, she whispered her final request:

“Take care of my baby. Be the father she deserves.”

And I kept that promise.

I legally adopted Grace and raised her alone.

I own a small shoe-repair shop downtown. I fix worn boots for construction workers, shine dress shoes for job interviews, and patch up kids’ baseball cleats for free when their parents can’t afford it. I don’t have much money, but I’ve always been dependable. And I love Grace with everything I have, as if she were the only child in the world.

Thanksgiving was just the two of us, like it’s been for years now. She stood beside me in the kitchen, mashing potatoes, while I roasted the turkey using Laura’s old, well-loved recipe.

Halfway through dinner, Grace put her fork down. Her face drained of color.

“Dad… I need to tell you something.”

Her voice shook. She looked terrified.

“Dad, I’m going back to my real dad. You can’t even imagine who he is. You know him.”

My heart stopped.