My name is   Althea  . I became a virgin at 26, joining a family that had endured more hardship than anyone deserved. My mother-in-law died young, leaving my father-in-law,   Bill Ernesto  , to raise four children alone. He spent his entire life farming in the small town of San Francisco, never having a job that offered him pension or any kind of security.

By the time I joined the family, most of Lolo Ernesto’s children already had their own homes and rarely had time to visit him. His last years depended almost entirely on my husband and me.

I often heard the neighbors whispering behind my back:

Can you imagine? She’s just his daughter, but she acts as his full-time caregiver. Who does that for a father-in-law?

But I saw it differently. Here was a man who had sacrificed everything for his children. If I turned my back on him, who would be by his side?

Twelve years of trials

Those twelve years were not easy. I was young, exhausted, overwhelmed, and mostly alone. When my husband went to work in Malia, I was left alone to care for our little one and Bill Ernesto, whose body grew weaker every day. I cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, and spent countless nights sitting in a plastic chair next to his bed, watching his breathing.

Once, during a particularly difficult night, finally I broke down and whispered:

“Bill, I’m just your dog… sometimes it’s too much for me.”

She didn’t preach to me or cry. Instead, she gave me a soft smile, took my trembling hand and said:

—I know. That’s why I thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.

I never forgot those words. From that moment on, I promised myself that I would make her last years as peaceful as possible. I bought her thick blankets when it was cold. I made her soup when she had a stomachache. When her feet swelled, I gave her gentle massages.

I never thought about what I could leave behind. I wanted him because, in my heart, he had already become a father to me.

The last moment

As time passed, Bill grew even weaker. At 85, the doctor gently told us that his heart wouldn’t hold up much longer. In his last days, he often asked me to sit by his side to tell us stories of his youth: stories of fishing by the river, of lost loves, of raising children with only his hands and hope. He constantly reminded me that his greatest wish was that his children and grandchildren would live with dignity.

Eпtoпces, υпa tarde traпqυila, llegó el momeпto.

Breathing heavily, he approached me and handed me an old pillow, its edges frayed and the fabric worn. His voice trembled as he whispered:

“For… Althea…”

I squeezed the pillow tightly, yes, understand. Minutes later, he closed his eyes for the last time.

The secret inside the pillow

That night, during the wake, I silently opened the broken pillow on the terrace.

What fell made my heart stop.

Small gold coins.
And three old savings account books.

I stared in disbelief and then burst into tears.

During all those years, he had saved all the money his children gave him… and even the profits from the sale of a small piece of land in the province. But instead of using it for himself, he hid it all inside that old pillow, just to give it to me.

Inside there was also a pot, written in trembling letters:

Althea, you are the kindest and hardest-working person I could ever have. I can’t leave you riches, but I hope this helps you live a little better. Don’t blame your husband’s brothers; it was my decision. I’m leaving you this because you took care of me for twelve years.

Tears of gratitude

My tears fell long and abundantly. Not for the money or coins, but for the love, trust, and acceptance he gave me. I thought that my sacrifices were simply a responsibility, perhaps even an obligation.

But Bill Ernest showed me that godly marriage fades. Love given freely always finds its way back.

On the day of his burial, he could still hear people whispering:

What could Ernesto have left behind? He didn’t even think about it.

I simply smiled.

Because nobody knew the truth, but only about the savings that the secret left me, but the most profound legacy that he entrusted to me: his gratitude, his faith and his love.

My second father

Every time I see that old, torn pillow, I remember his sweet smile. He wasn’t just my father-in-law, he was my second father, who taught me the meaning of sacrifice, duty, and unconditional love.

And every day I remind myself that I must live in a way that honors him, so that his true legacy may fade away.

——————————————————————–

Abused by his stepmother, who left him to starve, the 7-year-old boy still deeply loved his little brother. Until one day, the family’s black dog began to attack him, barking incessantly.

In the small town of Willow Creek, everyone knew little Dappy, a boy of just seven years old who lived with his father, his stepmother and his little brother.

His mother died when he was five. His father worked long shifts as a construction worker and was rarely home. Since his father remarried, Dapy had become the outcast of the family.

“You’re useless! You eat too much and talk too much! It’s hard to even take care of my own feet!” his stepmother yelled at him.

The neighbors felt deep pity for Dapy, but every time someone tried to intervene, the woman responded in a high-pitched voice:

My home, my son! Who do you think you are to tell me how to dishonor my family?

When the stepmother was busy, Dapy took care of the baby: she rocked him, calmed him, and shared with him the meager food they gave her.

“You eat, friend… I can wait a little while,” he whispered.

And she was smiling. Her face radiated an expression so pure it was heartbreaking.

An old black dog named Shadow also lived in the house; he had been with the family since Dapy’s mother was still alive. He was a calm dog who had never shown any aggression.

But after that, as Dappy was walking through the backyard with his little brother in his arms, Shadow lunged at him. The dog barked furiously and started pulling at the boy’s feet.

The stepmother, who was about to breastfeed the baby, shouted:

You stupid dog! How dare you attack my son?

She grabbed a broom and prepared to hit the animal.

But then, Shadow didn’t bark at Dapy… he barked at the shirt the boy was wearing. The dog was biting and tugging at the fabric as if he’d discovered a deadly dagger.

“Look at it! Let’s open it and see what’s wrong with it!” exclaimed the stepmother, suddenly nervous.

Dapy’s father, who had just come out, tore his shirt and everyone froze.

On the hem of the shirt was an open packet of rat poison with the inscription:   “Super potent rat killer. One dose kills instantly.”

The air became heavy and tense.

“Who… who put this in my son’s clothes?” the father stammered.

Everyone looked at the stepmother. Her face paled and her voice trembled:

“No… it wasn’t me… someone must want to… hurt him…”

But everyone’s gaze accused her.

The local police were called. Upon carefully examining the package, they discovered fingerprints on the side of the envelope that matched those of an adult. They then found a small note hidden in the hem of the shirt.

“If you die, my soul and I will finally be able to live in peace.”

The handwriting matched that of the stepmother.

She shouted, “I just wanted to scare him! I didn’t think…!”

But everyone believed him.

As they took her away, she tearfully confessed: The baby had a congenital heart defect and cried all night; the medical bills had depleted all their savings. She heard her husband’s concern about menstruation and began to think,   “Raising Dapy is pointless… it’s a burden…”

One night, while holding her sick son and crying, she thought,   “If only we had a child… everything would be easier.”

That’s why she put the poison in Dappy’s shirt, hoping he would absorb it or accidentally ingest it at school the next day. But Shadow was the first to detect the chemical spectrum.

Dapy’s father fell to his knees and hugged his son, weeping uncontrollably:

“Dad was wrong… Dad was so, so wrong…”

Shadow remained by his side, waiting, his gaze fixed on Dapy.

Dapy simply said in a low voice, a whisper that chilled the blood of the adults present:

“Did you hate me that much, stepmother?”

The woman was unable to respond and collapsed sobbing.

The stepmother was prosecuted according to the law, and Dapy’s father took a leave of absence from work to properly care for his daughter.

Shadow gained a new name in his authorship: “The dog that saved a life”.

Every afternoon, after school, Dappy would rest his head on the dog’s back and whisper:

“I’m alive… thanks to you, Shadow.”

The neighbors told the story over and over again:

Dogs that save lives… people who cause harm. Sometimes, animals show more humanity than people do.