Two days after my husband’s funeral, I went to my sister’s son’s first birthday party and tried to smile until she leaned in and whispered, ‘That baby is his child. So, I’m going to take half of what he left.’ Then she pushed a stack of documents across the table as if it were a keepsake. I just said, ‘Oh, I see,’ and swallowed a laugh… because my husband hadn’t given me a surprise. He had set a trap for me, and she had just walked right into it.

Hello everyone. My name is Margaret, and I’m 65 years old.

Two weeks ago, I buried my sweet husband Henry after 38 years of marriage.

He passed from a heart attack at age 67.

Last Saturday, I attended my nephew Tommy’s first birthday party at my sister Linda’s house. That’s when Linda stood up and shocked everyone. She announced that Tommy was actually Henry’s son, waving around what she claimed was his last will.

She demanded half of our $800,000 home as Tommy’s inheritance.

I nearly choked on my cake trying not to laugh out loud.

You see, there was something Linda didn’t know about Henry.

I’ll tell you everything.

First, let me thank you for watching Granny’s Voice. Please subscribe and tell us where you’re watching from in the comments. We might give you a shout out in our next video.

Today’s special shoutout goes to Karen James from Trinidad and Tobago.

Thank you for being part of our family.

Now, let me tell you everything.

Henry and I first met 40 years ago at our local church bake sale. I was selling my famous apple pies when he approached my table. He bought three whole pies, claiming they were for his mother, but later confessed he just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

“These smell like heaven,” he said with the sweetest smile.

“Just like the baker.”

That was Henry—charming and kind to everyone he met.

Our first date was the very next evening at Miller’s Diner downtown. We talked until the restaurant closed, sharing stories about our families and dreams.

Henry worked as a school principal dedicated to helping children learn and grow. He remembered every student’s name and always asked about their families.

Two years later, he proposed during our church’s Christmas service, right there in front of everyone.

The whole congregation started clapping and cheering.

We married the following spring in that same little church, surrounded by friends and family who had watched our love story bloom.

We bought our first home together after our second anniversary. It was a cozy two-story house on Maple Street for $200,000, which felt like a fortune back then. Henry had just been promoted to superintendent, and I was teaching third grade at the elementary school.

The house had a big backyard with an old oak tree, perfect for a tire swing.

The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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