My family turned their backs on me when I left journalism to become a private detective. They saw it as a disgrace, and I started to wonder if they were right. No clients, no money, just regrets. But then a teenage girl walked into my office, searching for her mother—and her case changed everything.
I was sitting in my small, dimly lit office, sorting through the week’s mail. Bills, bills, bills, advertisements, more bills. The usual.
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I let out a heavy sigh and set the letters aside, covering my face with my hands.
I used to be a journalist—a successful one, I must say—but I always felt like it wasn’t enough.
Stories were always unfinished, truths half-exposed, and justice left waiting. So, at 42, I quit my job and decided to become a private detective.
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It was something that truly interested me, something I had always wanted to do.
My family didn’t support me. They tried to talk me out of it, but when they realized my mind was made up, they turned their backs on me.
My husband finally had a reason to leave me for a younger woman—one with shinier hair, fewer wrinkles, and, I assumed, fewer opinions.
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And my daughter? She cut me out of her life completely. She saw being a private detective as disgraceful—especially when compared to the prestige of journalism.
Of course, it hurt. But the longer I worked as a private detective, the more I started to wonder if they had been right.
I hadn’t had a new client in nearly three months, and I had plenty of debt. People didn’t believe in a female private investigator.
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Men were assumed to be better at solving cases—stronger, sharper, tougher. As if intuition, patience, and persistence didn’t count.
Suddenly, even surprisingly, I heard a hesitant knock at the door. I straightened up, quickly smoothing my hair and shoving the pile of bills into a drawer.
“Come in!” I called out.
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The doorknob turned slowly, and the door creaked open. A girl, about fifteen, stepped inside.
She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her clothes were too small—cheap, second-hand, sleeves of her sweater jagged as if they’d been cut off.
“How can I help you?” I asked, motioning to the chair across from my desk.
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She sat down carefully, pulling her sleeves over her hands, her long, unkempt hair kept falling into her face. She brushed it away absently, over and over.
One thing was clear—she didn’t have a mother. I had taught my daughter how to braid her hair when she was six. This girl had no idea what to do with hers.
“My name is Emily,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m an orphan. I need your help to find my mother.”
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I studied her face. She looked nervous, but her eyes held something else—determination.
“She gave you up?” I asked.
Emily nodded. “Yes. I don’t know anything about her. Not her name, not what she looks like. Nothing.”
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She swallowed hard. “I’m fifteen now. No one is going to adopt me at this point. But I want to find her. I just want to see her. I need to understand why she left me.”
Her words stung. No child should feel unwanted. No child should wonder why they weren’t enough.
“I’ll need something to go on,” I said, reaching for my notebook.
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Emily sat up straighter. “I was born in this town. I’ve never moved, never been sent anywhere else.” She took a breath. “My birthday is February 15, 2009.”
I jotted it down.
“Is that enough?” she asked, her fingers gripping the edge of her sweater.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised.
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She hesitated, then pulled a few crumpled bills from her pocket. “I have some money, but not much.”
It wasn’t even close to what I needed, but that didn’t matter.
“If I find her, then you can pay me,” I said.
Her lips trembled. “Thank you.”
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She stood to leave.
“Wait. How can I find you?” I asked.
She scribbled an address and handed it to me. “My foster home. I’ll be there.”
I nodded, and she walked out.
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The next morning, I wasted no time. It had been a long time since I had worked on a real case.
Even though I knew I wouldn’t make any money from this one—I couldn’t, in good conscience, take money from an orphan—it still felt good to have a purpose.
The first place I went was the hospital. Our town had only one, which made things easier.
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If Emily’s mother had given birth there, the records would be somewhere inside.
One advantage of my former job was that I had connections everywhere. The hospital was no exception.
I knew exactly who to talk to—Camilla. She had been a nurse for years, and we had met back when I was covering a story about harassment in hospitals.
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She had been a source then. Since that day, she’d been a friend. As soon as she spotted me, she put down her clipboard and grinned.
“Sara!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “What brings you here? Please don’t say trouble.”
“I need your help,” I said, leaning in slightly.
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Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do. You never just stop by to visit an old friend, do you?”
I crossed my arms. “You were literally at my house for dinner last week.”
She smirked. “Fine. What do you need?”
“Birth records. February 15, 2009.”
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She blinked. “That’s specific. Should I be worried?”
“Nothing illegal. I just need to find a name.”
Camilla folded her arms. “That’s doable, but make it fast.”
I hesitated. “The baby was given up, probably in secret.”
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Her expression changed. “Sara, you know I can’t just hand you confidential records.”
“Please,” I said. “Just a quick look. No one will even notice.”
She studied me, then sighed. “You have ten minutes.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I owe you.”
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She rolled her eyes. “You owe me for life.”
She led me through a narrow hallway to the hospital archives. The air smelled of dust and old paper.
Camilla pulled out a thick folder labeled 2009 – Abandoned Newborns and handed it to me.
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“Be quick,” she whispered.
I flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling. February 15. My eyes locked on the mother’s name. My breath caught.
No. This couldn’t be real.
I shoved the file back and hurried out.
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Camilla stood by the door. “Sara, you’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” I muttered, pushing past her. I needed air.
I stood outside a house I had never seen before. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me.
Emily’s case had become the hardest of my career. Too personal. Too close.
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I stared at the door. My hands felt numb. I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell.
I took a breath and reached for the doorbell. My hand hovered over it. I could still turn around, pretend I never came. But that wasn’t an option. Not for Emily.
I pressed the button. The chime echoed inside. Footsteps approached.
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The door opened, and I saw her.
Her face paled. Her lips parted in shock. “Mom?”
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight. “Hi.”
Meredith blinked. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear—I don’t want to see you.”
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I met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come if this were about me.”
Her eyes darkened. “Then why are you here?”
I took a deep breath. “For your daughter.”
The color drained from her face. Her whole body tensed. “How… how did you—” She couldn’t finish.
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Her breath hitched. Tears filled her eyes. Then, without a word, she stepped aside and let me in.
The kitchen was small but neat. She moved stiffly, as if her body wasn’t sure what to do. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
I stayed standing for a moment, then sat across from her. Silence filled the space between us.
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“Her name is Emily, if you’re wondering,” I said. “No one ever adopted her. She’s been living with foster families. She came to me to find her mother, but I never imagined—”
Meredith squeezed her hands together. “Please stop,” she whispered.
I waited.
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“I have regretted it my whole life,” she said, her voice breaking. “I tried to forget. I told myself it was the best thing. That she’d have a better life without me. And now you show up out of nowhere to remind me what a terrible person I am.”
“You’re not terrible. You were a child yourself when she was born. I just don’t understand how you hid it. How did your father and I not know?”
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“I wore loose clothes. My belly wasn’t that big. And I planned to give birth in another town, but you and Dad went abroad for your work right before it happened. So it all worked out,” she said.
“Tell her I couldn’t be found,” Meredith said suddenly.
“Why?” I asked. “Meredith, I’m a mother too. I know what it’s like to lose a child. Nothing is more painful than that.”
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She lowered her gaze. Her voice trembled. “How can I face her? She’ll hate me.”
I let her words hang in the air. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But even so, she wanted to find you. That means something.”
Meredith wiped at her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want me?”
“She wants answers. She wants to know where she came from. You owe her that.”
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She looked away. I knew she resented me. But I reminded myself—this wasn’t about us. It was about Emily.
“I have her address,” I said. “Do you want to see her?”
Meredith hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.
We drove in silence. The streetlights flickered as we passed. When we reached the house, Meredith didn’t move. Her fingers dug into her lap.
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“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
I shook my head. “This is between you two.”
She looked down. Her voice broke. “Mom… I regret cutting you out. I was ashamed.”
I turned to her. “You are my daughter. No matter what, I will always love you.”
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Her face crumpled, and she reached for me. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her the way I had when she was little.
“What you’re doing is important,” she whispered. “People like Emily need you.”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
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Then she stepped out, walked to the door, and knocked.
A moment later, Emily appeared. They stared at each other. Then Meredith took a breath. Emily took a step forward.
They talked. They cried. And then Emily wrapped her arms around her mother.
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Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My future brother-in-law was always a problem—rude, arrogant, and always pushing boundaries. But on my wedding day, he crossed a line we could never forgive. He humiliated me in front of everyone, turning my perfect day into a nightmare. That was the last straw, and my fiancé finally had enough.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Restaurant Manager Kicks Out Old Lady Asking for Shelter, Next Day Sees Her Sitting with Owner – Story of the Day
One day, an old lady got drenched in heavy rain after a sudden outpour. She decided to seek shelter at a famous cafe, only to be kicked out by the restaurant manager. What happens next stuns the arrogant employee.
Linda Meyers was on her way to dinner when heavy rain suddenly started pouring. She didn’t have an umbrella with her, so her well-kept hair was suddenly damp and all over her face. Her blouse and jacket looked worn out after they got soaked as well.
The closest establishment to her at the time was a famous cafe that rich and famous people would frequent. As she got to the entrance, she was suddenly stopped by the porter.
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“Ma’am, this is an exclusive cafe. You need a reservation to enter,” he started, before looking at her from head to toe. “It seems you can hardly afford to dine in here, too,” he muttered.
Offended by the rude remark, she asked the porter to call the restaurant manager. But instead of letting her in, the manager echoed the porter’s sentiments and asked her to leave.
“Ma’am, I’m currently hosting over a hundred people inside. Let’s not waste our time here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the manager, whose nameplate said “Simon,” told Linda.
“I just need a place to stay until the rain dies down. I’ll even order,” she insisted.
“I can’t let you go in looking like that. You’re going to scare away all of our guests,” Simon shook his head. At that, the woman left, trying to find another place to wait.
The next day, when Simon got to work, the cafe owner was already there. He immediately called Simon over. “Today is a very special day. We have an important guest coming, my friend and his wife. They’re potential buyers of this cafe. That said, everything must be in top shape.”
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Simon oriented the waiters on what to do that day, making sure everything was well-prepared for their VIP guests’ arrival. That evening, the owner called Simon to their table.
“Let me introduce you to our manager. He is an excellent part of our team. He knows his job and is very kind, sensitive, sympathetic, and helpful,” the owner said. At that, the woman turned to him with a smile on her face.
“Very nice indeed. I can see that he is exactly the way you described him to be,” the woman, who turned out to be Linda, said.
The manager couldn’t hide the horrified look on his face after realizing the woman was the person he rudely shut out the night before. After seeing the look on his face, Linda turned back to the cafe owner.
“You have a great restaurant and such endearing staff. My husband and I are happy to buy the cafe,” she said.
The next day, Linda and her husband went straight to work. They wanted to observe how the cafe operated on a daily basis and get to know their new staff members.
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When Linda saw Simon, she bore him some bad news. “Simon, my husband and I have made the decision to demote you as a waiter. We don’t think the way you treated me the other night is any way to treat a customer,” she explained.
Immediately, Simon was given an apron and a tray, and he started working as a waiter. He was humiliated, but he didn’t want to lose his job entirely.
A couple of days later, a poor woman entered the cafe. She sat at a table and ordered a sandwich and hot tea. After she finished her meal, Simon handed her the bill.
“Oh dear,” the old woman said as she looked through her purse. “I must have forgotten my wallet at home. I am so sorry. I can wash the dishes, or clean the restaurant, anything so that I could repay you,” she said.
Simon shook his head. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I will pay for your tab this time around,” he said with a smile.
The woman proceeded to thank Simon, to which he replied: “It’s no problem. People should help each other out. A couple of days ago, the new owner of this restaurant gave me a second chance because she is a kind person. I want to be like her. After all, I believe in karma.”
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“I think you will become a manager again,” the woman replied. Simon was confused as to how the woman knew about his demotion. At that moment, Linda approached the table.
“This woman here is my friend. I wanted to test you and see whether or not you’ve learned your lesson. I’m happy to know that you’ve passed the test. You can return to your managerial duties effective immediately,” Linda said, giving him a tap on the back.
Simon was delighted. He had never seen such kindness in anybody, and he was grateful that Linda gave him yet another chance to do well at his job.
Since that day, Simon went to work with a smile on his face. He loved his job, and it was all thanks to the boost of confidence the new cafe owners gave him. He would patiently tend to his staff and the customers, and it led the cafe to become even more successful.
What can we learn from this story?
- We should not judge others by their outward appearance. The porter and Simon were quick to judge Linda for how she looked, not knowing she’d end up owning the business they worked in.
- People deserve a second chance. Linda was nice enough to give Simon a second chance, knowing he enjoyed his work.
Share this story with your loved ones. It might inspire them and make their day.
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