I spent five years working abroad to give my wife and my elderly father a good life. I came home without telling them to surprise them—but when I opened the door, I saw my father on his knees, scrubbing the floor, while my wife and her mother lounged on the sofa like queens. In that moment, my love died.

The Queen and the Slave

I dropped my luggage, but they didn’t hear it over the loud TV and their laughter.

There, on the cold marble floor, was my father—kneeling. He looked frail, almost skin and bones. He wore a worn-out shirt full of holes, his thin arms trembling as he scrubbed a stain on the floor. Sweat and tears dripped as he cleaned.

In front of him, sitting on my expensive leather sofa, were Valerie and her mother. They wore silk robes, adorned with gold jewelry, sipping expensive coffee as if they were royalty.

“Hurry up, old man!” Valerie snapped. “You’re so slow! What if my guests arrive later? You smell like dirt, and you’re lazy too!”

“I-I’m sorry… Valerie… my arthritis is hurting…” my father pleaded weakly.

“Arthritis? I don’t care!” Doña Matilda scoffed. She deliberately spilled her remaining coffee onto the floor—right where my father had just cleaned. “Clean it again! You should be grateful we let you live here! If not for that fool Elias sending money, I would’ve thrown you out long ago!”

Valerie laughed loudly. “Exactly, Mom! Now hurry up, or I won’t give you any leftover food tonight!”

The Breaking Point

It felt like my chest exploded. My blood boiled.

My father—the man who worked tirelessly under the scorching sun just to send me to school—was being treated like a slave in the very home I built!

“VALERIE!!!”

My thunderous voice shook the entire house. Their laughter stopped. When they turned and saw me standing at the door, my eyes burning with rage, all the color drained from their faces.

“E-Elias?! Babe?!” Valerie stammered. “Y-you’re mistaken! Your father just wanted to exercise—”

“SHUT UP, MONSTER!” I roared.