An orphan decided to visit his foster family ten years after moving out in order to thank them for all they’ve done for him. When he arrived in front of their dilapidated house, he asked what happened and how it ended up that way.
Chuck looked around the room with a smile on his face, savoring the moments he had with his foster family. He had just turned 18 and was now ready to go to college.
He watched how his foster mom sang him a happy birthday as she clapped her hands, and how his dad had an arm on his mom’s shoulder as he sang along. Then he looked at his foster brother, Ivan, who looked bored out of his wits with his head on the table, refusing to sing along.
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Chuck loved his family dearly because they never treated him as an outcast. Although he and Ivan did not get along, he knew that his parents loved him because they spent their own money raising him.
“I will miss you guys so much. Thank you for this birthday celebration,” he told them before blowing out the candles on his cake.
“We will miss you too, son. I hope you come back and visit us once you’re done with university,” his foster dad Chase told him.
Chuck blew out his candles and made a wish. They enjoyed one last meal together before he was off to college.
“Oh, sweetheart,” his mom sighed. “I can still remember the day we got you and took you home. I can’t believe you’re all grown up and going to college,” she said, tears forming in her eyes.
“I know, mom. I am the luckiest boy. I am so thankful that you took me in. Without you, I am nothing,” Chuck said, holding his mom’s hand. “Thank you for all the love and care you gave me.”
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At this point, Ivan had enough. “Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes. “Can we just eat in silence? Your sentimentality is making me sick!”
Instead of fighting back, Chuck smiled. “I know you’ll enjoy not having me around anymore, Ivan, but I’ll miss you too.”
That night, Chuck couldn’t sleep in excitement. His bags were all packed and he was ready to take the bus to the university the following day.
“It’s time to go, honey,” his mom called out to him the next morning.
Chuck looked around his room one last time, knowing it was the last time he would be seeing it in a long time. He embraced his parents one last time before heading out the door.
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“I’m on my own now,” he said. “You gave me all I needed, and I’m sorry if I was an added burden to you because of that. I promise I’ll do my best to become a successful person. I will come back and repay you for all you’ve done!”
It was Chuck’s personal decision to leave the foster care system once he was able. Although he loved his parents dearly, he chose not to get adopted legally to save his parents the money it would cost. After all, knowing they loved him was more than enough for him.
Chuck really did his best in school, keeping his promise. He studied law and was motivated to become a good lawyer after he graduated.
After passing the bar, he started working for a top law firm. From being just an associate, he rose up the ranks until he became a partner in the firm. Ultimately, he lost touch with his parents. While they wrote to each other in the beginning, his work made it less possible, until their communication stopped entirely.
It had been ten years since he last saw his foster parents. Chuck had a client in the city where he grew up, so he decided to drop in on his old home. He realized it was about time he visited his foster parents, so he took a day off to spend time with them. But what greeted him there was totally unexpected.
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Apart from an unkempt lawn, you could hardly see the white paint on the walls which had been entirely covered in vines. As he walked towards the front door, he even wondered if anyone still lived there.
Chuck rang the doorbell, but it was no longer working. He was about to turn back thinking no one lived there anymore until he heard a voice from inside. He decided to knock.
After a couple of seconds, his foster dad opened the door. “Chuck?” he called out. “Is that you?”
“Dad,” he said, embracing him tightly. “What happened here?! Are you alright? Where’s mom and Ivan?” he asked. He had so many questions running through his head, and he wanted answers.
“Come in, son. I can’t believe you made it home. How long has it been? 10 years?” he said, bringing his adoptive son inside the house. “Honey, it’s Chuck! Chuck is home!” he called out to his wife.
As soon as his mom came out of the kitchen, Chuck’s heart sank. She was no longer the healthy woman he once knew. She looked frail as if she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. “Mom!” he cried out. “What happened?”
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“Ivan told us he was starting a business about five years ago. We were so happy because even though he didn’t want to go to college, we thought he had found a direction in life. It turns out, he just wanted us to give him money so he could do whatever he wanted,” his dad shared.
“He promised he would give us a share of his earnings, but that never happened. Because of him, we’re in debt,” his mom added with tears in her eyes. “We didn’t think we would ever see you again, sweetheart. I am so glad you visited,” she said, embracing Chuck again.
Chuck could not believe what his parents had gone through at the hands of his brother. He took them out to dinner, and when they got home, promised to be back the following day.
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The next day, he returned and told them that they had nothing to worry about anymore. “I paid off the loan and any legal damages it incurred. I also hired someone to repair the house. I would also like to give you this,” he said, handing them a passbook.
“Chuck!” his mom cried. “You didn’t have to do any of this. It’s too much. We didn’t raise you thinking you’d ever pay us back,” she told him.
“I never saw you and Ivan differently,” his dad added. “To me, you were both my sons. But now, I can’t believe that it’s you who genuinely loves and cares for us. And Ivan left us for dead.”
Chuck shook his head. “I owe you both so much more than just money,” he replied. “You gave me a home – a family. Money is nothing to me. Family is everything! I love you both and will take care of you for the rest of my life,” he promised.
What can we learn from this story?
- Never forget those who helped you. Chuck never forgot his foster parents, who did so much to raise him. He lived comfortably because of them and wanted to give back to them as much as he could.
- Family matters over everything. Ivan betrayed his parents over money, valuing material possessions over familial relationships. Meanwhile, Chuck always cherished family over everything else, so he was more than willing to cut his fortune in half if it meant his parents living comfortably.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a single mom of three who adopted twins abandoned in a park, only for their birth mother to show up on their 18th birthday.
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.
The Neighbor of My Grandparents Took Part of Their Land for a Driveway — His Hubris Ended Up Costing Him Thousands
Sometimes, the most satisfying re:ve:nge doesn’t involve intricate schemes or legal battles. It’s simply knowing where to park an old, beat-up F-150 and waiting for karma to do its thing.
Have you ever heard the saying that you shouldn’t mess with the elderly because they’ve experienced it all? My grandfather, Lionel, is a perfect example of that.
For more than 40 years, my grandparents have lived in the same charming hillside home.
It’s among those places where every corner holds a story: the old oak tree they planted when my mom was born, the wind chimes Grandpa crafted with his own hands, and the stone steps Grandma still sweeps every morning. They loved their quiet spot overlooking the valley. The only neighbor for years had been a vacant lot next door, which was steep and untouched.
It was like that until the day the machines came.
Grandma called me the afternoon it started.
“Sweetheart, there’s a bulldozer chewing into the hill. And part of it… it’s our land,” she said in a shaky yet controlled voice.
“Are you sure, Grandma?” I asked, picturing the property I’d visited countless summers growing up. “Maybe they’re just clearing near the line?”
“Nathan, I’ve walked that property line every day for forty years. I know where our markers are. They’re cutting right through our corner lot.”
I made an effort to calm her down. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just a mistake. Have you told Grandpa?”
“He’s at his doctor’s appointment. I don’t want to bother him yet.”
“Okay, okay. Let me know what happens when he gets home,” I said, completely clueless about the drama that was about to unfold.
I thought it was probably just some contractor error that would be fixed with a quick conversation. Man, was I wrong. As they got home from errands that day, a scar had been carved across their yard. It was the beginning of a switchback driveway leading up to the neighboring lot.
The driveway clearly cut through the corner of their property.
Confused but calm, Grandpa walked down the hill to speak with the excavator operator. “Hey there,” he called, raising a hand. “Any chance you’ve got a plot map? That corner of the drive… it’s on our land.”
The guy looked down from the machine, sweat and dust streaking his face. “Ain’t mine to argue, sir. I’m just following orders. You’ll want to call the guy who owns the lot.”
He handed Grandpa a business card with a scribbled name and number.
That evening, Grandpa called.
“Hi, this is Lionel. You’re building next door to us on Westridge. I think there’s been a mistake. Your crew cut across our lot.”
A pause.
After that the man on the other end replied, “No mistake. We checked the satellite images.”
Grandpa frowned. “Sir, we’ve got our property pins marked. Your driveway’s at least ten feet onto our land.”
“Well, then sue me. I’m not changing it now. Too late.”
The man on the other end hung up. Grandpa stood in the kitchen with the phone still in his hand.
“He hung up on me,” he said quietly.
Grandma, ever the calm one, touched his arm. “It’s just land, Lionel. Let’s not start a war.”
However that’s not what this was. This wasn’t about land. It was about disrespect.
When weeks passed, the driveway got longer. Crews worked six days a week, and no one knocked on the door in order to apologize or offer something as compensation.
It looked like they didn’t even acknowledge Grandpa’s concern. “We raised kids here,” Grandma said to me one afternoon while I was visiting. “That slope’s where we planted the garden every summer. And now he’s driving over it like it means nothing… It’s… it’s heartbreaking.”
I felt my blood boil as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Grandma, this isn’t right. Have you guys talked to a lawyer?”
She shook her head. “Your grandfather doesn’t want the stress. Says at our age, peace is worth more than a few feet of dirt. And to be honest, I agree with him.”
Deep down, I disagreed with what Grandpa thought. I understood that legal battles are expensive, and could drag on for years, but my grandparents deserved better than that in their golden years.
Then one day, my friend’s dad, Patrick, stopped by while he was out walking his dog. He’d known my grandparents for years and lived down the street.
“You heard about the new guy?” Grandma asked as she offered him a glass of sweet tea.
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen the mess.”
Grandpa filled him in on the phone call, the dismissal, and the ongoing construction. “What a piece of work,” Patrick shook his head. “This is unacceptable… But don’t worry. Let me think about it. I believe I can find a solution.”
That night, Patrick had a couple of beers and called Grandpa.
“Lionel. I’ve got an idea. But it’s a little… unconventional.”
“Patrick, I’m listening.” Grandpa’s voice perked up with interest.
“Do you mind if I park my old pickup across that chunk of driveway? Entirely on your land, of course. I’ll leave a note, and I promise it won’t be anything illegal. All I wanna do is give that man a message and I’m sure this would do the trick!”
Grandpa chuckled. “You know what, Patrick? Go right ahead. It’s about time someone stood up to this b:ully.”
As he told Grandma about Patrick’s offer, she laughed for the first time in weeks. “My blessings are with Patrick and that rusty truck of his,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Grandma called me the same night, whispering into the phone like she was plotting a bank heist. “Nathan, you won’t believe what Patrick’s going to do!”
She explained the plan. Then I couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry, Grandma. Everything will work out well. Guys like that neighbor always learn their lesson eventually.”
The next morning, a battered, rusty F-150 appeared across the driveway. It was parked neatly, squarely on the strip that crossed my grandparents’ land. A note on the windshield read, PRIVATE PROPERTY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE REPORTED.
By 8 a.m., the construction crew had arrived.
“What the hell is this?” one of the workers muttered, staring at the truck blocking their access.
As they called the number mentioned on the note, Patrick answered.
“Yeah, it’s my truck,” Patrick said confidently. “I’ve got permission to park there. You touch it, it’s theft. And by the way, I’ve called the police already to make sure it’s on record.”
The foreman sighed. “Well, we can’t carry two-by-sixes up this damn hill by hand. Let’s call the boss.”
An hour later, the new neighbor called Grandpa.
“Lionel! Move that damn truck or I’m calling a tow,” he barked into the phone.
“You go ahead and try,” Grandpa said, calm as ever. “You’re the one trespassing.”
“You’ll regret this, old man!”
Grandpa chuckled. “I already regret not charging you for an easement when you first started digging.”
The neighbor hung up again. Days passed, and the truck didn’t move. No construction happened, and rumors began floating through the neighborhood. People waved at Grandma like she’d done the best thing in the world. I drove up to visit that weekend and found Grandpa sitting on the porch, binoculars in hand, watching the idle construction site.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“More fun than I’ve had in years,” he replied with a grin. “Three different tow companies have come by. All of them left when Patrick showed them the property survey and explained the situation.”
Some days later, the neighbor called again.
“Fine,” he snapped. “What do you want?”
Grandpa didn’t hesitate. “An easement contract. Fair market value. In writing.”
“And the truck?”
“It’ll go the moment we have a signed agreement and a check.”
A week later, the papers were signed, and the check was cleared. Patrick immediately removed the truck when Grandpa gave him the green signal.
My grandparents used the money to finally fix their porch and donate to the local food bank.
Meanwhile, Patrick received three cases of beer and a thank-you card from my grandparents.
I visited the following month, and the new house was nearly finished. The neighbor avoided eye contact whenever my grandparents were outside.
“You know what the funny thing is?” Grandpa said as we stood outside the house. “If he’d just asked nicely in the first place, we probably would’ve let him use that corner for free.”
I smiled. “Some people have to learn respect the hard way.”
“And some learn it from a rusty old truck,” Grandma added with a wink.
That corner of land was not only dirt. It was forty years of memories and boundaries. And now, it was also the spot where my grandfather taught me that standing up for yourself doesn’t always need lawyers or shouting matches.
Sometimes, it just needs friends, patience, and knowing exactly where to park.
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