When Greg suggested we dip into Ava’s college fund — money left by her late father — to pay for his adult daughter’s wedding, I was stunned. His smug entitlement and his daughter’s silent expectations left me reeling. I nodded politely… but I had a different plan brewing.
Six years ago, I remarried, stepping into what I knew would be a delicate balancing act.
My daughter, Ava, was just ten then, and still raw from losing her father only a year before. David had been the kind of man who loved quietly and pragmatically.
He’d wake up early to make pancakes and tucked away money into a college fund meant to open doors he’d never had. That fund was David’s last gift to his daughter, his final promise that she’d have choices.
But blending families wasn’t smooth.
How could it be? Greg brought along his daughter, Becca, who was already 20 at the time. Becca never outright insulted us.
She was too smart for that.
Instead, she wielded icy silences and clipped words like weapons, making it crystal clear that we were strangers, not family. I tried to bond with her.
I invited her to join me for manicures and shopping trips, but she always opted out. Ava made her own attempts to get to know her step-sister, but Becca brushed them all off.
She treated us like barely tolerated house guests, and only spoke to Ava or me when she needed something.
Last week, over a tired Wednesday night dinner, Greg laid down his fork with deliberate calm — the kind that makes your skin bristle before the words even come. “So… Becca’s wedding is coming up fast,” he said, wiping his hands on his napkin like he was preparing for surgery.
“I’ve put in $10,000 already, but there’s still a shortfall of about $30,000.”
I waited.
Eyes steady. Heart sinking.
Something was coming, and I could feel it in my bones. Ava looked up from her mashed potatoes, innocent and unaware.
She’d been chattering about her chemistry test and the college prep courses she wanted to take next year.
David’s daughter, always planning for the future, always reaching for more. Then came the dagger. “We could just take it from Ava’s college fund.
She’s only 16.
And come on — family helps family out.”
The words hung in the air like smoke. I felt something inside me go very still.
It was the kind of calm that comes before a storm. Family helps family…
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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