I’d always prided myself on being a career woman. No messy relationships, no emotional entanglements—just results. But when our company was acquired, everything changed. The new boss was a mystery until her assistant announced something that made my stomach drop: “She values family above all. Tomorrow is Family Day. She wants to meet everyone’s loved ones before choosing her deputy.”
I panicked. I had no family to show. No partner. No child. Just a cold apartment and a calendar full of deadlines. So I did something reckless—I hired a man and his daughter to pretend to be my husband and child.
I found them outside a local theater. He was kind, struggling financially, and agreed to help. His daughter, Lily, was shy but sweet. We rehearsed our roles, and the next day, they walked into the office with me like we’d been a family for years.
My boss was charmed. She smiled warmly at Lily and praised our “bond.” I felt a strange pang—guilt, maybe, or longing. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like if the lie were real.
After the event, I offered them extra money. But the man refused. “You gave Lily a day she’ll never forget,” he said. “She hasn’t smiled like that since her mom passed.”
That hit me hard.
Days passed. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I visited their modest home, brought groceries, helped Lily with homework. Slowly, the act faded—and something genuine took its place.
Then came the twist.
My boss called me in. “I know they’re not your real family,” she said. “But I also saw how you treated them. That’s what matters. You didn’t fake love—you found it.”
I didn’t get the promotion. But I got something better: a second chance at connection. I still see Lily every weekend. And the man—he’s no longer just someone I hired. He’s someone I’m learning to love.
