I knew remarrying would bring change, but I never imagined my new wife would try to claim the money my late wife left for our daughters. That trust fund was sacred, meant for their future—not hers. She thought she could pressure me. What followed was a lesson she’d never forget.
One evening, I sat on the couch, holding a photo of Edith and the girls at the beach. A tear slid down my cheek. “I miss you, Ed,” I whispered, running my fingers over her smiling face. “The girls… they’re growing up so fast. I wish you could see them now.”
My mother’s knock interrupted me. She poked her head in, concern on her face.
“Charlie, honey, you can’t keep living in the past. It’s been three years. You need to move on—for the girls.”
I sighed and set the photo down. “We’re fine, Mom. The girls—”
“Are growing up without a mother figure,” she interrupted, sitting beside me. “Have you thought about dating again? Gabriela from your office seems nice.”
“Mom, Gaby’s just a coworker,” I said, rubbing my temples.
“She’s a single mother. You’re a single father. Think about it, for the girls’ sake.”
Her words stayed with me. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to move forward.
A year later, I watched Gaby playing with my daughters. She’d come into our lives quickly, and before I knew it, we were married. It wasn’t like it had been with Edith, but it felt… good enough.
“Dad, look at me!” my youngest called, attempting a cartwheel.
“Great job, sweetie!” I cheered, forcing a smile.
Gaby sidled up to me, her arm through mine. “Your girls are amazing, Charlie. You’ve done such a great job raising them.”
“Thanks,” I replied, though guilt stirred inside me.
Later that evening, she cornered me in the kitchen. Her tone was sweet, but her words were sharp. “Charlie, we need to talk about the girls’ trust fund.”
I froze, my coffee mug halfway to my lips. “What trust fund?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped, dropping the sweet act. “I overheard you on the phone. Edith left a lot of money for your daughters, didn’t she?”
My stomach tightened. I hadn’t mentioned the fund to Gaby—it wasn’t her business. “That money is for their future—college, starting their lives.”
“And my daughters?” she demanded. “Don’t they deserve the same?”
I stared at her, keeping my voice steady. “Of course, but that fund is Edith’s legacy. It’s not for us to touch.”
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