I never imagined that the father I had spent years trying to distance myself from would eventually contact me with a request so unbelievable that I would actually laugh when I first read his message. I am thirty years old, financially independent, and have worked extremely hard to build a comfortable life for myself. My father, on the other hand, has barely been a part of my life for more than a decade. We are not close, we do not celebrate holidays together, and we rarely communicate unless he has something he wants from me. So when his name appeared on my phone one ordinary afternoon, I assumed he was reaching out because something serious had happened. I certainly did not expect him to ask me to pay for his youngest child’s college education.

To understand why his request upset me so much, I need to explain what happened when I was younger. My parents were married for nearly twenty years, and for most of my childhood, I believed we were an ordinary family. My father worked long hours, my mother managed the household, and I was their only child. There were occasional arguments, but nothing that made me question the stability of our family. Then, when I was seventeen, everything fell apart. My mother discovered that my father had been having an affair with a woman he worked with. What made the situation even worse was that the woman was pregnant, and my father had apparently been planning another life with her for months. Instead of taking responsibility for the damage he had caused, he told my mother that their marriage had become unhappy and that he deserved to pursue his own happiness.

The divorce was painful, but the way my father handled it hurt even more. He moved out almost immediately and began building a new household with the woman he had been seeing behind my mother’s back. Within a year, they had a baby together, and suddenly I was expected to accept the fact that I had a younger half-sibling whose existence was connected to the destruction of my family. My father acted as though everyone should simply move forward because he had found love and started a new chapter in his life. He rarely asked how I was coping, never acknowledged how difficult the situation had been for me, and seemed genuinely confused when I did not want to spend weekends with his new family. Whenever I expressed my feelings, he accused me of being immature, judgmental, and unwilling to let him be happy.

After I turned eighteen, my relationship with him gradually deteriorated. I moved away for college, worked part-time to cover my personal expenses, and eventually started a career that allowed me to support myself. My mother helped when she could, but she was also rebuilding her life after the divorce, so I learned early that I could not depend on anyone else to solve my problems. Meanwhile, my father seemed to believe that paying occasional child support before I became an adult and sending me a birthday message every now and then meant he had fulfilled his responsibilities. He missed important milestones, including my college graduation, and when I landed my first professional job, he barely reacted. Eventually, I stopped being the person who always reached out first. Our conversations became shorter, less frequent, and increasingly uncomfortable until I finally decided to go low contact with him.

Over the years, I heard occasional updates about his new family through relatives. His second wife and their children seemed to be doing reasonably well, although I had no interest in becoming involved in their personal lives. I did not hate my half-siblings because they had done nothing wrong, but I also did not feel obligated to pretend that we shared a close family bond. My father had made his choices, and I had made mine. I focused on advancing my career, saving money, and creating a peaceful life without constantly revisiting the past. I now earn a good salary, have some savings, and can afford things that I once had to work hard to obtain. I am proud of what I have accomplished, especially because I achieved most of it without my father’s guidance or financial support. Apparently, however, my financial stability had become common knowledge among members of my extended family.

The message arrived on a Tuesday afternoon while I was working. My father started by asking how I was doing, saying it had been too long since we had spoken, and mentioning that he hoped my career was going well. I was suspicious, but I replied politely. After a few minutes of small talk, he explained that his oldest child with his second wife would be starting college soon. Tuition, housing, books, and other expenses were adding up, and he was worried about how they would manage everything. He then told me that because I was doing well financially and had no children of my own, he thought I might be willing to contribute toward my half-sibling’s education. At first, I genuinely thought he was asking whether I could offer advice about scholarships or financial aid. Then he clarified that he wanted me to pay a significant portion of the tuition fees.

I read his message several times because I could not believe how casually he had made the request. He had not supported me through college, had not helped me financially when I was struggling, and had barely maintained a relationship with me for years. Yet he seemed to believe that my ability to earn a decent income somehow created an obligation to finance the education of a child he had raised in his second household. I asked him whether he remembered how I had paid for my own education, including working long hours while studying and worrying about bills that I could barely afford. He responded that my circumstances had been different and that I should not compare my childhood with my half-sibling’s situation. According to him, family members were supposed to help one another, and I was in a position to make a meaningful difference. When I asked why he was not taking out additional loans, reducing expenses, or asking his wife’s family for help, he became defensive and said I was making everything unnecessarily personal.

I finally told him that I would not be paying for the college expenses. I explained that I had nothing against my half-sibling and sincerely hoped they would succeed, but their education was not my financial responsibility. I also reminded him that we had barely spoken for years and that he could not suddenly demand the benefits of a close family relationship whenever money became an issue. His response was immediate and angry. He accused me of holding a grudge over events that had happened more than a decade ago and claimed that I was punishing an innocent child for his mistakes. I told him that the child was not being punished by me; I was simply refusing to take on a responsibility that had never been mine. He ended the conversation by saying he was disappointed in the person I had become. I was hurt, but I also felt an unexpected sense of relief because, for once, I had clearly stated my boundary without apologizing for it.

A few days later, I learned that my father had discussed our conversation with several relatives, presenting the situation as though I had become wealthy and selfish while refusing to help my struggling family. One aunt called to tell me that college was expensive and that helping a younger sibling was the right thing to do. Another relative suggested that I should contribute at least a small amount to show goodwill. I explained that my father had never helped me through college and that nobody had contacted me to rebuild our relationship before asking for money. Some relatives understood, while others insisted that I should put the past behind me. I have not changed my decision. I can care about an innocent child without accepting financial responsibility for them, and I can acknowledge that my father has his own struggles without pretending that he was there for me when I needed him. I still hope my half-sibling finds a way to attend college and build a good future. But I refuse to let guilt turn a relationship that has been distant for years into a financial obligation. So now I am wondering: was I wrong to refuse my estranged father’s request, or is he expecting far too much from a daughter he barely made an effort to keep in his life?

Read Story…

LC/NC Father just requested I pay for his affair baby’s college

I’m sorry if this isn’t the wrong place for this, but this is just happened and i’m still a little pissed off. Just want to vent somewhere and writing/typing this down helps me keep things straight.

I’ve never hidden the fact that my father and I are estranged due to him cheating on my (formerly) doormat of a mom when I was still young (allegedly because she had cancer and had to chop off her breasts and was thus, in his exact words, no longer a woman. Yes I know, insane logic, but logic has never been his strong point), nor have I ever hidden the fact that i resented him for favoring my golden eldest brother exclusively, to the point where he was the only one of 4 children (brother, me, 2 younger sisters) to ever get birthday presents.

Either way, my tiny little Asian mom finally found some spine and divorced him. He fought for custody of my eldest brother at the time, ONLY my eldest brother, the rest of us could go fuck off.

Literally.

He booted us out of HIS house.

And my mom, being the perfect Asian doormat wife before this, had no way of fighting it. No experience with work, in a foreign country, with zero savings.

So yes, I still remember something from nearly 20 years ago and yes, I fully admit I still have a very big grudge against him. In fact, I distinctly remember telling him to fuck off to his face on more than one occasion after reaching adulthood (and somewhat successfully adulting in the process), and to never expect me to donate even the dirt on my shoes to his funeral.

He still tries to get into contact with me regularly despite that, to persuade me to have children, because surprise, surprise, my eldest brother turned out…. disappointing (Utter trash in his own words.

Personally, i think the guy is doing okay, not great,

but not get-into-Harvard-excelling like he used to, so I’m now the better option to provide for his “perfect heir”.

As if kicking me out of the house with my mom and 2 sisters so that we had to be homeless for years, never really happened at all.

So he took my eldest brother and SOMEHOW ended up marrying a THIRD woman, even younger and prettier than the SECOND one. Since then, not counting the four of us, he has EIGHT children, the youngest of whom is only 7 or something, while the eldest of the other four just hit college age (I know it’s not their fault, but I refuse to interact with them at all).

See, my dad’s filthy rich from playing the stock market and sweeping up real estate during the Great Depression in 1998, and this played a lot into him acting like he was a big shot self made foreign business man that donated actively and was a philanthropist, so i KNOW he has money since i still see him doing that shit actively – not by choice, he’s just a rather public figure in my country.

Today, out of the blue, he suddenly called me and said he was going to be sending me a receipt for kid 4’s college. No hello. no nothing. Straight to business, worded as if it was a done deal that I was gonna fork out 50k for sure because I’m finally earning my own keep so it’s my turn to contribute to the “family”.

Sure enough, my email dinged and voila. Receipt for first year of college, plus various other expenses.

For 70k.

I… just hung up and am seriously considering just moving to another country to get rid of him.

My Estranged Father Contacted Me With an Unbelievable Request

I never imagined that the father I had spent years avoiding would eventually contact me with a request so unbelievable that I had to read his message several times before I could fully understand what he was asking. I am thirty years old, financially independent, and reasonably successful in my career. I have worked hard to reach this point, making sacrifices and learning to handle my own problems without expecting anyone to rescue me. My relationship with my father, however, has been broken for more than a decade. We rarely speak, we do not spend holidays together, and there is very little affection between us. So when his name appeared on my phone one afternoon, I assumed he wanted to discuss something important. I certainly did not expect him to ask me to pay for his youngest child’s college education.

My parents were married for almost twenty years, and for most of my childhood, I believed we were a normal family. We had our problems, but nothing seemed serious enough to make me question whether my parents would stay together. My father worked, my mother took care of the household, and I grew up believing that family meant being there for one another, especially when life became difficult. That belief changed when I was seventeen years old. My mother discovered that my father had been having an affair with another woman. What made the betrayal even worse was that the woman was pregnant, meaning my father had already begun building a second family while my mother still believed they were trying to maintain their marriage.

The way my father treated my mother during that period remains one of the most painful memories of my childhood. My mother had gone through serious health struggles, and instead of supporting her, he used her illness and physical changes as excuses for his behavior. He actually suggested that because she no longer looked the way she had before, their marriage was no longer fulfilling for him. I remember watching my mother struggle to understand how someone she had loved for so many years could speak about her so cruelly. She had stood beside him through countless difficulties, yet when she needed compassion, he chose to look elsewhere. Eventually, she found the strength to divorce him, and our family was permanently changed.

My father did not handle the divorce with any real sense of responsibility. Instead of acknowledging the pain he had caused, he behaved as though he had simply outgrown his marriage and deserved a fresh start. He moved in with the woman he had been seeing and eventually welcomed their child into the world. Meanwhile, my mother was left trying to rebuild her life while helping her children cope with the destruction of the family we had known. I was old enough to understand what had happened, but still young enough to wish that my father might apologize one day. I kept hoping he would recognize the damage he had caused and make an effort to repair his relationship with us. Unfortunately, that apology never came.

My relationship with my father had already been complicated long before the affair. I was never his favorite child, and that position belonged exclusively to my eldest brother. My father openly favored him in ways that were impossible to ignore. My brother received birthday presents, special treatment, and attention that the rest of us rarely experienced. I had two younger sisters, and none of us could understand why our father seemed to believe that one child deserved more love than the others. As a child, I often wondered whether I had done something wrong or whether I simply was not good enough to earn his affection. It took me years to realize that his favoritism reflected his own behavior, not our worth as children.

When my parents finally separated, my father made his priorities even clearer. He fought to maintain custody of my eldest brother, but he showed little interest in keeping the rest of us with him. It was difficult to understand how a parent could be so determined to keep one child while seemingly accepting the loss of relationships with the others. My younger sisters and I stayed with our mother, who did everything she could to provide stability despite the emotional and financial challenges she faced. Watching her rebuild her life taught me more about responsibility and resilience than my father had ever taught me. She did not have unlimited money or an easy path forward, but she showed up for us every single day.

After the divorce, my father gradually became a distant figure in my life. At first, I still hoped he would call regularly, ask about school, remember important dates, and make an effort to spend time with me. Sometimes he sent a short message, but those moments were inconsistent and usually felt like an obligation rather than genuine interest. He rarely asked how I was handling the divorce or whether I needed help. If I expressed disappointment, he would tell me that I was being dramatic or that I needed to accept his new life. Eventually, I stopped expecting anything from him. It was painful, but lowering my expectations became the only way to protect myself from repeatedly being disappointed.

Meanwhile, my father continued building his second household. He and his new wife raised their children together, celebrated their milestones, and created the family life he claimed he had always wanted. I occasionally heard about them through relatives, but I did not actively seek information. I had nothing against the children themselves because they had not chosen the circumstances of their birth. They were innocent in the same way that my sisters and I had been innocent when our father decided to have an affair. Still, I never felt a natural connection with them. We had different childhoods, different experiences with our father, and very little shared history. I did not believe that being related by blood automatically meant we had to behave like a close-knit family.

As I grew older, I focused on building a life that did not depend on my father’s approval. I went to college, worked part-time, and learned how to manage my finances while studying. There were moments when I struggled to pay bills or worried about whether I could afford the next semester. I watched classmates receive help from their parents while I worked extra hours to cover my expenses. I did not expect my father to pay for everything, but it hurt knowing that he had the ability to help and simply was not interested. My mother supported me emotionally whenever she could, although she was also dealing with her own financial challenges. Those years taught me independence, but they also made it painfully clear that I could not rely on my father.

Eventually, I graduated and began building my career. My first job did not pay particularly well, but I was grateful to have an opportunity to support myself. I worked hard, developed my skills, and gradually moved into better positions. Over time, I was able to pay my bills comfortably, build savings, and afford things that once seemed out of reach. I was proud of those achievements because I knew how much effort they had required. My father had played almost no role in that journey. He had not helped with my tuition, offered meaningful career advice, or stood beside me during the difficult periods when I doubted myself. I had achieved my goals without his support, and I had stopped waiting for him to recognize that fact.

By the time I reached my late twenties, my relationship with my father had become almost nonexistent. We might exchange a brief message on a birthday or hear from one another through extended family, but there was no genuine closeness. I eventually decided that low contact was healthier for me than continuing to maintain a relationship that left me feeling unwanted. I did not announce a dramatic cutoff or send him an angry letter. I simply stopped initiating conversations and stopped making excuses for his absence. If he contacted me, I responded when I felt comfortable, but I no longer organized my life around the possibility that he might suddenly become a different person. For the first time, I felt that I was moving forward without carrying the same disappointment everywhere I went.

Unfortunately, my financial progress seemed to attract attention from relatives who had never been particularly concerned about my struggles. People occasionally mentioned that I was doing well and asked about my career. I did not mind discussing my work, but I was careful not to share too many details about my savings or income. I had learned that people sometimes interpreted financial stability as proof that someone had unlimited resources. Just because I could afford my rent, maintain an emergency fund, and occasionally enjoy a vacation did not mean I had endless money to distribute. I had specific goals for my future, and I wanted to protect the stability I had worked so hard to create.

The message from my father arrived on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. I was at work when I noticed his name on my phone, and for a moment, I considered ignoring it. However, curiosity got the better of me, so I opened the message. He began by asking how I was doing and saying that he hoped everything was going well with my career. It was more conversation than we had shared in months, which immediately made me suspicious. Still, I replied politely because I did not want to assume the worst without knowing why he had contacted me. He asked a few questions about my job and whether I was still living in the same place. Then, after a little small talk, he finally explained why he had reached out.

My father told me that his oldest child with his second wife was preparing to start college. He explained that tuition fees had increased, living expenses were expensive, and the family was struggling to figure out how to cover everything. According to him, they had been reviewing their finances and were worried about how they would manage the coming years. I initially thought he wanted advice about financial aid, student loans, or scholarships. I had researched those options myself when I was younger, so I would have been willing to share information that might help. Instead, he told me that because I was financially comfortable, he believed I could contribute toward the tuition. He presented the request as though it were a perfectly natural thing for him to ask.

At first, I was genuinely confused. I asked him whether he meant that he wanted me to help the child find scholarships or whether he was asking me to contribute a small amount toward books and supplies. He clarified that he wanted a substantial financial contribution, potentially covering a significant portion of the college expenses. He mentioned that my income was higher than it had been when I was younger and that I did not have children of my own. According to his reasoning, I had more financial freedom than other members of the family, so helping my half-sibling would not be an unreasonable sacrifice. I stared at the screen, struggling to understand how he could make such a demand after spending years showing so little interest in my life.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. My father had not helped me pay for college, even when I was working exhausting hours to support myself. He had not contributed toward my living expenses or offered to cover the costs that made my education difficult. Yet he now believed that I should help finance the education of a child he had raised in his second household. I was not angry at the child, and I did not believe that they deserved to suffer because of their father’s decisions. My frustration was directed entirely at my father, who seemed to believe that the family responsibilities he had neglected for years could suddenly become my responsibility whenever he needed money.

I asked him whether he remembered how difficult college had been for me. I reminded him that I had worked part-time, managed my own expenses, and worried about money while trying to complete my education. I asked why he had never offered me the same support he was now asking me to provide for his other child. His response was that my situation had been different and that he did not want me comparing one child’s circumstances with another’s. He said that his current household had several expenses and that the cost of higher education had become increasingly difficult to manage. When I pointed out that those were responsibilities he and his wife needed to plan for, he accused me of being unnecessarily argumentative.

Then he said something that made the situation even more frustrating. He told me that family members were supposed to help one another, regardless of their differences, and that I should not allow old disagreements to prevent me from doing something meaningful for my younger sibling. He insisted that this was not about his past mistakes but about giving a young person a better future. I understood the argument he was trying to make, but I could not ignore the hypocrisy. When I was young and needed my father to behave like a responsible parent, he had prioritized his own desires. When I needed support through college, he had left me to manage on my own. Now that I was doing well, he wanted me to demonstrate a level of family loyalty he had never demonstrated toward me.

I told him that I had no intention of paying for the college expenses. I explained that I hoped his child would succeed and that I had no desire to interfere with their future. However, I was not responsible for funding their education simply because we shared a father. I had worked for my financial stability, and I had my own obligations and long-term plans. I also told him that if he genuinely wanted to help his child, he could explore student loans, grants, scholarships, affordable colleges, or a payment plan. I was not suggesting that those options would be easy, but they were possibilities he and his wife needed to consider rather than expecting me to solve the problem.

My father reacted badly to my refusal. He accused me of holding a grudge and said that I was allowing events from the past to control my decisions. He argued that the child had done nothing wrong and should not be caught in the middle of an old family conflict. I agreed that the child had done nothing wrong, but I explained that my decision was not an attempt to punish them. I was simply refusing to accept a financial obligation that did not belong to me. He seemed unwilling to understand the distinction. In his mind, refusing to pay meant that I was being cruel to an innocent child, while agreeing would supposedly prove that I had finally become mature enough to move beyond the past.

The conversation became increasingly uncomfortable as my father continued trying to pressure me. He reminded me that I was fortunate to have a good career and suggested that a contribution would barely affect my lifestyle. I asked him how he knew what I could afford or what financial commitments I had planned for the future. He did not have an answer. He simply assumed that because I was not struggling visibly, I had enough money to take on someone else’s expenses. I explained that my savings were intended for my own future, including housing, emergencies, retirement, and other responsibilities. Being financially stable did not mean I had agreed to become the financial backup for a parent who had spent years living separately from me.

At one point, he brought up the fact that my half-sibling was innocent and deserved opportunities in life. I told him I agreed completely. Every young person deserves the opportunity to pursue an education if they are willing to work for it. But that did not mean every relative was automatically responsible for paying their bills. If he wanted to help his child attend college, he needed to work with his wife and child to create a realistic plan. He could contribute what he could afford, research financial assistance, and discuss affordable options with the college. What he could not do was decide that my income belonged partly to his household simply because I happened to be related to them.

Eventually, I ended the conversation by telling him that my decision was final. I said I was sorry that his family was dealing with financial pressure, but I would not be paying the tuition. He responded that he was disappointed in the person I had become and that he never expected me to be so selfish. Those words hurt more than I wanted to admit, even though I had spent years learning not to seek his approval. A small part of me still wished he could recognize my efforts and respect my decisions. Instead, he had reduced everything I had accomplished to a reason why I should give him money. I put my phone down and tried to return to work, but the conversation stayed in my mind for the rest of the day.

A few days later, I discovered that my father had already discussed the situation with several relatives. The version he shared was very different from what had actually happened. According to them, I was doing extremely well financially, my father had asked for help with an important family matter, and I had refused because I was still angry about the divorce. Nobody seemed particularly interested in asking why my father and I were estranged or whether he had supported me when I needed help. They focused entirely on the fact that I had money and had declined to share it. I was frustrated by how easily a complicated history could be reduced to a simple story about a successful adult refusing to help a struggling family.

My aunt was the first person to call me directly. She told me that college was expensive and that I should consider helping, even if I did not want a relationship with my father. She said that my half-sibling should not lose an educational opportunity because of disagreements between adults. I calmly explained that I was not trying to prevent anyone from attending college. I simply did not want to pay for it. I also reminded her that I had financed my own education without assistance from my father, despite being his child and living through the consequences of his choices. My aunt said that the past was the past and that I should focus on the future. I told her that focusing on the future was precisely why I was protecting the life I had built.

Other relatives had different opinions. Some thought I should offer a small amount as a gesture of goodwill, while others believed I should consider helping only if my father agreed to certain conditions. A few understood why I was upset and said that my father should never have approached me as though I owed him money. I appreciated those relatives because they were willing to acknowledge the history behind the situation rather than looking only at the immediate financial request. However, I did not want to turn my decision into a family-wide debate. I had already explained my position to my father, and I was not interested in defending it repeatedly to people who had not experienced our relationship firsthand.

What bothers me most is that my father never seemed interested in rebuilding our relationship before he needed financial help. He did not contact me to apologize for the way he had treated my mother or for how he had neglected me after the divorce. He did not ask whether I was happy, whether I had faced difficulties, or whether there was anything in my life that I wanted to share with him. He appeared only when his household needed money. If he had approached me years earlier with a genuine desire to repair our relationship, perhaps we might have reached a different place by now. But he skipped every step that might have helped rebuild trust and went straight to asking me to make a major financial commitment.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about whether I could have handled the situation differently. Perhaps I could have been softer in my wording, or perhaps I could have offered to help my half-sibling research scholarships without contributing money. I still feel sympathy for the child because they did not choose the circumstances into which they were born. I hope they find a way to attend college, receive the support they need, and build a successful future. However, feeling sympathy does not require me to sacrifice my financial security or accept responsibility for decisions made by my father and his wife. I can wish someone well without becoming responsible for their expenses. I can also refuse a request without hating the person who made it.

For now, I have decided to maintain my distance and avoid discussing my finances with relatives who seem to believe that my success makes me responsible for everyone else’s problems. I do not regret working hard to build a stable life, and I do not believe I should feel guilty for protecting it. My father made choices that changed our family, and I have spent years learning how to live with the consequences of those choices. His other child deserves kindness and opportunity, but those things do not have to come at my expense. I am not closing the door on the possibility of a healthier relationship with my father someday, but any genuine reconciliation would have to begin with honesty, accountability, and respect rather than a request for money. So I want to ask: Am I wrong for refusing to pay for my estranged father’s affair child’s college education, or is he expecting far too much from a daughter he barely supported herself?