“We’re Taking Over!” My Greedy DIL Stormed My New Cabin In Aspen. She Turned Pale At What Was Inside
“We heard you bought this gorgeous cabin in Aspen. We’re moving in to leave all the grudges behind.”
My daughter-in-law barked it, shoving her suitcases through my door like she already owned the place.
I just smiled and let them barge in. But the second they stepped into the great room and saw what was waiting for them, every drop of color drained from their faces. Before continuing, subscribe to the channel and write in the comments what time it is in your region right now.
My name is Harold Winston. I’m 68 years old, and I live in a mountain cabin in Aspen, Colorado. For 32 years, I built something from nothing.
I started as a line cook at a diner in Denver and ended up owning four restaurants under my own name—Winston’s Grill. Maybe you’ve heard of it. I sold the whole chain three years ago for $3.8 million.
Not bad for a kid who grew up washing dishes for minimum wage. Now I spend my days fly fishing on the Roaring Fork River and collecting rare 19th century cookbooks. Peaceful life.
Quiet life. The kind of life I earned. At least that’s what I thought.
Let me tell you about my son, Trenton. He’s 41 now. Works as a mid-level manager at some IT company in Aurora.
Makes decent money, around $78,000 a year last I heard. Not that he ever talks to me about his life anymore. That stopped about seven years ago, right around the time he married Deborah.
Deborah Kelly—well, Deborah Winston now—is 38, doesn’t work, and has never met a mirror she didn’t like. She used to be a real estate agent before she decided that being Trenton’s wife was a full-time job. Her full-time job, as far as I can tell, is spending money they don’t have and looking down her nose at people she considers beneath her.
That list, unfortunately, includes me. I remember when Trenton was a boy. He’d run to the door every time I came home from a shift, his little arms reaching up for me.
“Daddy, daddy.”
He wanted to hear everything—what I cooked, who came in, what funny things happened. He used to say he’d work in my kitchen one day. That boy had stars in his eyes.
I don’t know where that boy went. The change was gradual at first. After the wedding, Trenton started calling less.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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