My millionaire father valued his suit more than us until we soaked him with the hose as revenge for his absence, and he shouted, “I’ll send you all away!” but ended up crying on his knees in the mud.

Ethan was one of the most powerful and intimidating businessmen in Santa Monica, a man used to quiet rooms and careful words, whose life revolved around contracts, deadlines, and numbers with too many zeros. To him, time equaled money—and his children, without him realizing it, felt like an interruption to both.

The twins lived in a beautiful, aging house in Pasadena, tucked behind tall walls draped in blooming vines. They were raised mostly by their grandparents, George and Margaret, who had stepped in where Ethan had quietly stepped away.

But the true warmth of the home came from Rosa, a kind woman with gentle hands and a constant presence in the kitchen, who loved the children as if they were her own. The house smelled of coffee and warm bread, but it could never quite cover the absence that lingered in every room.

Ethan visited rarely—once a month at best—and even then, his presence brought tension instead of comfort. One warm Saturday afternoon, a sleek black car stopped outside the gate.

Ethan stepped out in a perfectly tailored suit, his phone pressed to his ear, his attention locked somewhere far away. There were no hugs, no greetings—just a distracted wave as he argued about a deal that clearly mattered more than anything in front of him.

Lucas and Lily stood on the porch in their neat clothes, waiting, hoping for even a moment of acknowledgment. But Ethan turned his back and paced across the lawn, lost in his world. The children exchanged a quiet glance, a shared understanding of longing. Nearby, a green garden hose lay coiled beside a large pot.

“Just a little… maybe he’ll laugh,” Lily whispered, remembering stories of a version of their father who used to smile, back when their mother was still alive. Lucas hesitated, then nodded. He picked up the hose, and Lily turned on the water.

The stream burst out stronger than expected, missing his shoes and soaking him completely—his expensive pants, his crisp white shirt, everything. Ethan froze. The voice on the phone kept talking, but he slowly lowered it, turning around with a face twisted in anger.

“Dad, it was just a joke!” Lucas said quickly, his voice shaking as he stepped back.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Ethan snapped, his voice cutting through the air like ice. “You’re out of control. No discipline, no manners—this is unacceptable!”