as if Becca had ever treated Ava like family in this house.
As if Ava’s dreams mattered less than Becca’s Pinterest board fantasies. The clatter of utensils and the hum of the refrigerator all seemed to stop. Becca sat with arms crossed, oozing entitlement, as if this had always been the plan.
Had they discussed this already?
Had they been plotting behind my back, counting David’s money like it was already theirs? I felt my pulse spike, but I kept my voice even.
“You want to use the money my late husband left for his daughter’s education for a wedding?”
Greg shifted in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, when you put it like that—”
“How else would I put it?” I asked.
“That’s exactly what it is.”
Greg scoffed like I was overreacting, like I was being dramatic for no reason.
“It’s her big day, honey, and Ava will get everything on her own — she’s smart. And who even pays full price for college anymore?”
He leaned back like the case was closed, giving a shrug and a smile that reeked of smug dismissal. Becca smirked from across the table, finally looking up from her phone long enough to enjoy the show.
“Well, it’s not that deep, come on,” he added.
Not that deep? My husband’s dying wish, his final gift to his daughter, wasn’t that deep.
Ava’s future, her dreams, her chances — not that deep. Inside, my fury clawed at my ribs, scratching and desperate to get out.
But outside, I exhaled coolly, forcing my face into a mask of composure.
“I’ll look at the numbers and I’ll think about it,” I replied. Their faces lit up… good. See, I’d just had a much better idea for resolving this issue, but before I told them about it, I had to prepare.
Two days later, I sat down with Greg and Becca to give them my decision.
“Fine,” I said, and I watched Greg’s face light up with premature victory. “I’ll write the check.
But only on one condition.”
Greg blinked. Becca raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering slightly.
“What kind of condition?” Greg asked, and I could hear the wariness creeping into his voice.
I smiled then, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “You sign a contract. A simple agreement that says you’ll pay back every cent you take from Ava’s fund.
In full.
Within one year.”
The silence stretched between us like a chasm. I could practically see the gears turning in Greg’s head, the calculations, the sudden realization that this wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought.
“A contract?” Becca said, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” I replied, meeting her gaze steadily.
“If family helps family, then family also pays family back.”
Greg’s face twisted, his earlier smugness evaporating like morning mist.
“What? Are you serious? That’s not what family does!
We don’t nickel and dime each other like that!”
But I didn’t blink.
I’d been waiting for this moment, this revelation of his true character. The mask was finally slipping.
“Exactly,” I said, my voice steady as stone. “Family also doesn’t say a party is more important than college.
Family doesn’t rob a child of her future because your grown daughter can’t cut her Pinterest board in half.”
“It’s not robbing!” Greg protested, but his voice had lost its certainty.
“It’s borrowing!”
“Borrowing implies an intention to return what you’ve taken,” I replied. “When were you planning to do that?”
He stammered, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Because there was no plan, was there?
There never had been.
They’d counted on my compliance, on my desire to keep the peace, to avoid conflict at any cost. But they’d miscalculated.
Greg stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “You’re being ridiculous!
This is about Becca’s big day!”
I stood too, calm as glass, steady as bedrock.
“And Ava only has one shot at a future without debt. So here’s what we’ll do.”
I reached into my bag. This was it.
The moment of truth.
I pulled out two documents. “This is the contract,” I said, holding one document up.
“If you sign it, I’ll wire the money today.”
He stared at it like it was radioactive. “And the other…” I said, sliding the second paper across the table, “is divorce papers.
If you won’t protect Ava’s future, I will.
With or without you.”
The words hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown down. Greg’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. He didn’t expect resistance.
He expected submission and compliance.
But I’d learned something from David many years ago: sometimes love means standing firm, even when it hurts. Sometimes protecting someone means being willing to lose everything else.
“You’re bluffing,” Becca said, but her voice lacked conviction. “Try me,” I replied, and she saw something in my eyes that made her look away.
Greg sank back into his chair, the fight draining out of him like air from a punctured balloon.
“You’d really divorce me over this?”
“I’d divorce you to protect my daughter’s future,” I corrected. “The choice is yours.”
Greg moved out two weeks later. Becca’s wedding went ahead.
It was smaller, and less extravagant, funded by her biological mother and whatever savings Greg could scrape together.
Ava and I weren’t invited, but I heard through mutual friends that it was lovely, intimate, and exactly what a wedding should be when it’s about love instead of show. But there were no tears from me.
No apologies, either. Ava hugged me that night after Greg left, her arms tight around my waist as her eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my shoulder.
“Thank you for choosing me.”
“I’ll always choose you,” I whispered back, and I meant it. “That’s what mothers do.”
David’s money sits safely in that account, growing and waiting for the day Ava needs it. And she will need it.
She’ll use it to become the doctor she dreams of being, or the teacher, or the engineer, or whatever her heart calls her to be.
Because that’s what the money was always for. Not a party, not a show, not someone else’s dreams.
It was for Ava’s future; David’s last gift to the daughter he loved more than life itself. Source: amomama
