After a year working on an oil pipeline in Alaska, Kyle Greenbecker was finally heading home to his wife, Lisa. They had been together since high school, and he had never once regretted marrying her so young.
Kyle had always been faithful—Lisa was the only woman he had ever been with. He never imagined she would doubt him. But when he landed, Lisa wasn’t there to pick him up.
Assuming she was busy at work, he texted her but got no reply. Taking an Uber home, he walked up the driveway, eager to see her.
Inside, the lights were on, but Lisa was nowhere to be found. Instead, in the middle of the kitchen table, there was a bassinet with a tiny baby inside.
Confused, Kyle approached and found two notes. The first, in unfamiliar handwriting, read:
“You had your fun, now take responsibility for your child.”
The second, in Lisa’s familiar script, was even more devastating:
“Kyle, I found this baby on our doorstep with that note. I always suspected you cheated on me during your business trips, but I let it go—I had my own fun while you were away. But dumping another woman’s child on me? That’s too much. I’ve filed for divorce. I hope I never see you again.
P.S. Don’t worry, I waited until I saw you coming home before I left. Enjoy your life.”
Kyle sank into a chair, his head in his hands. This wasn’t his child. He had never cheated. But as he looked up, the baby cooed, waving a tiny hand. On impulse, he reached out, and the baby gripped his finger with surprising strength.
“Well, kid,” Kyle sighed. “I guess it’s just us now.”
That was the moment he decided—he wasn’t leaving her.
Kyle found supplies in a backpack left beside the bassinet. After a crash course on YouTube, he struggled through his first diaper change, realizing for the first time—it was a girl.
“I won’t be much help with dating advice,” he told her, “but I can teach you how to ride a bike.”
Naming her Lily, Kyle legally registered her as his daughter. Life as a single father wasn’t easy, but he embraced it. Two years passed, and Lily was his whole world.
Then one day, a woman knocked on his door.
“I’ve come for my baby,” she announced.
Kyle stared at the tall blonde woman.
“Your what?”
“My baby,” she said impatiently. “I left her here two years ago. Got mixed up—my boyfriend lived a block over. Anyway, I need her back.”
Kyle narrowed his eyes. “And why now?”
“Burt—her father—just got a Major League contract. And that baby means money.”
Kyle slammed the door in her face, but she wasn’t done. A week later, he was in court, fighting for Lily’s custody.
In court, the woman—Cherish Vegas—sobbed about missing her child. But when the judge asked for Lily’s given name, she fumbled.
“She’ll have her daddy’s name,” she finally said. “Since he’ll be paying child support!”
Kyle stood up. “Your honor, may I speak?”
“Go ahead, Mr. Greenbecker.”
“Her name is Lily. And she already has her father’s name—mine. Since the day I found her, she’s been my daughter, and I love her.”
Just then, Lily, sitting with a social worker, noticed Kyle standing.
“Daddy!” she cried, reaching out.
The courtroom fell silent. Then the judge smiled.
“Well, it seems the most important person here has spoken. Custody remains with Mr. Greenbecker. Case dismissed.”
That night, Kyle and Lily celebrated by catching fireflies in the yard.
“Stars!” Lily giggled, pointing at the glowing bugs.
Kyle looked down at her, his heart full.
“No, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re the brightest star of all.”
