I knew things would change when I remarried, but I never expected my new wife to go after my late wife’s money. It was meant for our daughters, not hers. She thought she could pressure me into it, but she was in for a lesson.
I looked at a photo of Edith and our daughters at the beach. “I miss you, Ed,” I whispered. “The girls are growing up so fast. I wish you could see them.”
My mom interrupted my thoughts, urging me to move on. “It’s been three years. The girls need a mother figure.”
A year later, Gaby entered our lives, and we married. But something felt off. Then she cornered me in the kitchen about Edith’s trust fund.
“The girls deserve the same opportunities!” she argued.
I stood firm. “That money is for my daughters’ future, not for us.”
Gaby tried to manipulate me, but I set boundaries. I created a fund for her daughters, but Edith’s legacy was off-limits. Gaby didn’t take it well, but I refused to back down.
Weeks passed, and the tension grew. Gaby still tried to guilt-trip me, but I stayed strong. I promised my daughters I’d protect their future—and Edith’s memory—no matter what.
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