When Megan was 10 and grieving the loss of her parents, I promised to buy her wedding dress someday. I became a father figure to her, helping raise her with her grandparents. Years passed, and she grew into a strong, independent woman.
Eventually, Megan and her longtime boyfriend, Tyler, decided to marry after having three kids. She reminded me of my old promise and showed me wedding dresses costing up to $7,500. I was stunned but offered $1,500 to help her find something beautiful within reason.
The conversation ended awkwardly, but things took a darker turn days later when I overheard Megan telling Tyler they’d lie about using the money for the dress, then sell it to fund their wedding and fix his car. She had already drained her parents’ trust fund.
Confronting her was heartbreaking. She apologized, but the damage was done. I refused to pay for the dress or the wedding. Soon after, they had a small courthouse ceremony—I wasn’t invited.
Now, our relationship is fractured. I still care for her, but the trust is gone. I’ve learned to guard my generosity, even with family. Sometimes, love and loyalty aren’t enough to stop betrayal.