My Ex-wife Demands That I Give the Money I Saved for Our Late Son to Her Stepson – My Answer Shocked Her and Her New Husband

When my ex-wife demanded the money I saved for our late son be given to her stepson, I thought grief had dulled my hearing. But as I sat across from her and her smug husband, their audacity crystal clear, I realized this wasn’t just about money — it was about defending my son’s legacy.

I sat on Peter’s bed, and the room was too quiet now. His things were everywhere. Books, medals, a half-finished sketch he’d left on the desk. Peter loved to draw when he wasn’t busy reading or figuring out some complicated problem that made my head spin.

A boy drawing | Source: Pexels

A boy drawing | Source: Pexels

“You were too smart for me, kid,” I muttered, picking up a photo frame from his nightstand. He had that crooked grin, the one he’d flash whenever he thought he was outsmarting me. He usually was.

This picture was taken just before my smart boy got into Yale. I still couldn’t believe it sometimes. But he never got to go. The drunk driver made sure of that.

A man mourning his loved one | Source: Pexels

A man mourning his loved one | Source: Pexels

I rubbed my temples and sighed. The grief hit me in waves, like it had since November. Some days, I could almost function. Other days, like today, it swallowed me whole.

The knock on the door brought me back. Susan. She’d left a voicemail earlier. “We need to talk about Peter’s fund,” she’d said. Her voice was sweet but always too practiced, too fake. I didn’t call back. But, now, here she was.

A woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

I opened the door. She was dressed sharp as always, but her eyes were cold.

“Can I come in?” Susan asked, stepping past me before I could answer.

I sighed and motioned toward the living room. “Make it quick.”

She sat down, making herself at home. “Look,” she said, her tone was casual like this was no big deal. “We know Peter had a college fund.”

A woman on her couch | Source: Pexels

A woman on her couch | Source: Pexels

I immediately knew where this was going. “You’re kidding, right?”

Susan leaned forward, smirking. “Think about it. The money’s just sitting there. Why not put it to good use? Ryan could really benefit.”

“That money was for Peter,” I snapped. My voice rose before I could stop it. “It’s not for your stepson.”

Susan gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “Don’t be like this. Ryan is family too.”

An angry man | Source: Midjourney

An angry man | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Family? Peter barely knew him. You barely knew Peter.”

Her face reddened, but she didn’t deny it. “Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow and discuss it. You, Jerry, and me.”

That evening, the memory of that conversation lingered as I sat back down on Peter’s bed. I looked around his room again, my heart aching. How did we get here?

A man sitting in his late son's bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in his late son’s bedroom | Source: Midjourney

Peter had always been mine to raise. Susan left when he was 12. She didn’t want the “responsibility,” as she’d called it. “It’s better for Peter this way,” she’d said like she was doing us both a favor.

For years, it was just me and Peter. He was my world, and I was his. I’d wake up early to make his lunch, help him with homework after school, and sit in the stands cheering at his games. Susan didn’t bother. She’d send a card for his birthday, sometimes. No gifts, just a card with her name scrawled at the bottom.

A birthday card | Source: Pexels

A birthday card | Source: Pexels

That’s what made the one summer with Susan and Jerry so hard. Peter wanted to bond with them, even if I didn’t trust it. But when he came back, he was different. Quieter. One night, I finally got him to talk.

“They don’t care about me, Dad,” he’d said softly. “Jerry said I’m not his responsibility, so I ate cereal for dinner every night.”

I clenched my fists but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I never sent him back.

A sad boy | Source: Pexels

A sad boy | Source: Pexels

Peter didn’t mind, or at least he never showed it. He loved school, and he loved dreaming about the future. “One day, Dad,” he’d say, “we’re going to Belgium. We’ll see the museums, the castles. And don’t forget the beer monks!”

“Beer monks?” I’d laugh. “You’re a little young for that, aren’t you?”

“It’s research,” he’d reply with a grin. “Yale’s going to love me.”

A happy teenage boy | Source: Pexels

A happy teenage boy | Source: Pexels

And they did. I remember the day the acceptance letter came. He opened it at the kitchen table, his hands shaking, and then he yelled so loud I thought the neighbors might call the cops. I’d never been prouder. Now, it was all gone.

That night, I barely slept, preparing for the conversation with Susan.

The next morning, I walked into the coffee shop, spotting them immediately. Susan was scrolling through her phone, looking bored. Jerry sat across from her, stirring his coffee so loudly it grated on my nerves. They didn’t even notice me at first.

A couple drinking coffee | Source: Freepik

A couple drinking coffee | Source: Freepik

I stood by their table. “Let’s get this over with.”

Susan looked up, her practiced smile snapping into place. “Oh, good. You’re here. Sit, sit.” She gestured like she was doing me a favor.

I slid into the chair across from them, saying nothing. I wanted them to speak first.

Jerry leaned back, his smug grin plastered across his face. “We appreciate you meeting us. We know this isn’t easy.”

A man in a cafe | Source: Pexels

A man in a cafe | Source: Pexels

I raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s not.”

Susan jumped in, her tone syrupy sweet. “We just think… it’s the right thing to do, you know? Peter’s fund — it’s not being used. And Ryan, well, he’s got so much potential.”

Jerry nodded, folding his arms. “College is expensive, man. You of all people should understand that. Why let that money sit there when it could actually help someone?”

A man talking to a serious woman | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to a serious woman | Source: Midjourney

“Someone?” I repeated, my voice low. “You mean your stepson?”

Susan sighed like I was being difficult. “Ryan is part of the family. Peter would have wanted to help.”

“Don’t you dare speak for Peter,” I snapped. “He barely knew Ryan. And let’s not pretend you cared about Peter either.”

Susan stiffened, her smile faltering. “That’s not fair.”

A serious woman talking to a man in a cafe | Source: Midjourney

A serious woman talking to a man in a cafe | Source: Midjourney

“No?” I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s talk about fair. Fair is raising a kid, showing up for them, being there when it counts. I did that for Peter. You didn’t. You sent him to me because you were too busy with your ‘new family.’ And now you think you’re entitled to his legacy?”

Jerry’s smugness cracked for a second. He recovered quickly. “Look, it’s not about entitlement. It’s about doing the right thing.”

A smiling man in a cafe | Source: Freepik

A smiling man in a cafe | Source: Freepik

“The right thing?” I laughed bitterly. “Like the summer Peter stayed with you? Remember that? Fourteen years old, and you wouldn’t even buy him dinner. You let him eat cereal while you and Susan had steak.”

Jerry’s face reddened, but he said nothing.

“That’s not true,” Susan said quickly, her voice shaky. “You’re twisting things.”

An annoyed woman in a cafe | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed woman in a cafe | Source: Midjourney

“No, I’m not,” I said sharply. “Peter told me himself. He tried to connect with you two. He wanted to believe you cared. But you didn’t.”

Jerry slammed his coffee cup onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is to raise a kid these days?”

“I do,” I shot back. “I raised Peter without a dime from either of you. So don’t you dare lecture me.”

An annoyed man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

The coffee shop had gone quiet. People were staring, but I didn’t care. I stood, glaring at both of them. “You don’t deserve a cent of that fund. It’s not yours. It never will be.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out.

Back home, I sat in Peter’s room again. The confrontation replayed in my mind, but it didn’t make the ache in my chest any lighter.

A man in his son's room | Source: Midjourney

A man in his son’s room | Source: Midjourney

I picked up his photo from the desk — the one of us on his birthday. “They don’t get it, buddy,” I said softly. “They never did.”

I looked around the room, taking in the books, the drawings, the little pieces of him that still felt so alive here. My eyes landed on the map of Europe tacked to his wall. Belgium was circled in bright red marker.

A map of Europe | Source: Freepik

A map of Europe | Source: Freepik

“We were supposed to go,” I whispered. “You and me. The museums, the castles, the beer monks.” I chuckled softly, my voice breaking. “You really had it all planned out.”

The ache in my chest deepened, but then something shifted. A new thought, a new resolve.

I opened my laptop and logged into the 529 Plan account. As I stared at the balance, I knew what to do. That money wasn’t for Ryan. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was for Peter. For us.

A man on his laptop | Source: Freepik

A man on his laptop | Source: Freepik

“I’m doing it,” I said aloud. “Belgium. Just like we said.”

A week later, I was on a plane, Peter’s photo tucked safely in my jacket pocket. The seat beside me was empty, but it didn’t feel that way. I gripped the armrest as the plane lifted off, my heart pounding.

“Hope you’re here with me, kid,” I whispered, glancing at his picture.

A man on a plane | Source: Freepik

A man on a plane | Source: Freepik

The trip was everything we’d dreamed of. I walked through grand museums, stood in awe at towering castles, and even visited a brewery run by monks. I imagined Peter’s excitement, crooked grin, and endless questions at every stop.

On the last night, I sat by the canal, the city lights reflecting on the water. I pulled out Peter’s photo and held it up to the view.

A man sitting by the canal | Source: Pexels

A man sitting by the canal | Source: Pexels

“This is for you,” I said quietly. “We made it.”

For the first time in months, the ache in my chest felt lighter. Peter was gone, but he was with me. And this — this was our dream. I wouldn’t let anyone take it away.

A man sitting by a canal | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting by a canal | Source: Midjourney

My Ex’s Mom Invited Me to Her Wedding but When I Arrived, I Realized It Was All a Set-up

When Hayley’s ex’s mom invites her to design a wedding dress for her big day, it seems strange, but nothing prepares Hayley for the truth. What follows is a confession, a second chance at love, and a surprise she never saw coming. Sometimes, life gives you the most unexpected twists…

It had been three years since Adam and I broke up, but I still couldn’t shake him. Five years of love doesn’t just disappear overnight. His sudden breakup was like a sucker punch with no explanation, no closure, just silence.

It was just done.

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

Then, about a year ago, he started dating her. My former friend, Miranda. If betrayal had a face, it was hers, plastered all over social media with captions of the two of them:

When you know, you know, and The best thing that ever happened to me!

I told myself to block her, to stop looking, but I didn’t. Every photo, every grin, every comment about her “forever love” felt like salt in an open wound.

A laptop opened to social media | Source: Midjourney

A laptop opened to social media | Source: Midjourney

I never stopped loving him. That’s the sad, honest truth. Pathetic, I know. I wasn’t able to date anyone seriously since him.

So when Adam’s mom, Lena, called me out of the blue last month, I thought I was hallucinating.

We never exactly got along. She had always been polite but distant, like she was sizing me up and always finding me lacking something or the other.

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

After the breakup, I assumed I’d never hear from her again. But there she was, on the other end of my phone, her voice strangely warm.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “I know this might be unexpected, but I have a favor to ask, Hayley.”

Lena told me that she was getting married. Married! And she wanted me to design her wedding dress. She gushed about how I’d become one of the most sought-after seamstresses in the city.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

“I’ve always admired your work, Hayley,” she said softly. “And I trust you. I know you’d create something perfect just for me.”

Trust? Admiration?

From Lena?

I nearly dropped the phone. I couldn’t figure out what game she was playing. My instincts screamed at me to say no, to hang up and block her number. And truly be done with that entire family.

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

But she begged. And how could I say no? She said that no one else could do it justice and that she’d forever be grateful.

“Nobody else will do things that will suit my age and my figure! And make me something dream-worthy, Hayley. Please?”

I don’t know why I said yes. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted to feel close to Adam again. Or maybe I just couldn’t resist the curiosity clawing at me.

Either way, I agreed.

A sketch of a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney

A sketch of a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney

Over the next few weeks, I poured myself into the dress. The fabric was like spun clouds, soft and ethereal, with delicate beading along the bodice. I stayed up late perfecting every stitch. Lena had wanted a lacy dress that made her feel like a princess.

“I know it’s foolish, darling,” she said. “When I married Adam’s father all those years ago, I wore a shapeless white dress that did absolutely nothing for my figure. I want to live my dream wedding dress now.”

Lena had given me her measurements, and oddly enough, they matched mine.

A woman sewing | Source: Midjourney

A woman sewing | Source: Midjourney

I tried not to think about it. But it wasn’t a surprise. The entire time I had been dating Adam, Lena was always at Pilates or yoga or swimming with her friends.

The morning of the wedding arrived. I packed the dress into a garment bag, loaded it carefully into my car, and drove to the venue. It was a gorgeous country estate tucked away like something out of a fairy tale.

If I ever got married, I could see myself using this as a venue contender.

A wedding venue | Source: Midjourney

A wedding venue | Source: Midjourney

The moment I pulled up, unease curled in my stomach.

Something’s wrong, I thought. But I shook it off.

Clutching the garment bag, I walked inside. Soft music drifted through the air, and guests milled about in suits and gowns, their laughter a low hum. But then I saw it.

A massive banner near the altar, shimmering under the soft light.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

It displayed the names of the couple getting married.

I froze right there.

It wasn’t Lena’s name.

It was Adam’s name. And mine.

Welcome to the nuptials of Adam & Hayley

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

I blinked, my mind short-circuiting. My heart was racing so fast it felt like it might explode.

“What… what is this?” I whispered aloud.

“Hayley,” a voice said from behind me.

His voice, Adam’s voice, made me jump. I turned around, and there he was.

Adam.

A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney

A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney

He looked older, his jaw sharper, his eyes softer. He wasn’t smiling, though. He just stood there, hands at his sides, looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

“What is this?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Why is my name on that banner? What’s happening?”

He took a slow step toward me, regret written all over his face.

“Please, just let me explain.”

A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But I just couldn’t move.

“You’ve got two minutes,” I said, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

He took a deep breath.

“Three years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

Yeah, no kidding, I thought bitterly, but I stayed quiet.

A woman with folded arms | Source: Midjourney

A woman with folded arms | Source: Midjourney

“I was going to propose to you, Hayley,” he said. “I had the ring. I had everything planned. And then… she showed me something.”

“She?” I whispered, already knowing who.

“Your… my ex. Miranda,” he looked away, his voice thick with regret. “She showed me a video of you all on holiday. Thailand, I think it was. And you were drinking and shouting that you didn’t want kids. She told me that it was recent, that you’d been lying to me about wanting a family. Especially with me. It crushed me, Hayley. I thought I didn’t know you at all.”

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

The air whooshed out of my lungs. I remembered the video. It was years ago, we had been on a girls’ trip, and I was venting after a drunken spat with someone who assumed all women had to want kids. The same man who made his wife take care of their kids while he enjoyed his beer on the beach.

It had nothing to do with Adam and everything to do with wanting to be heard.

“You didn’t think to ask me?” I choked out. “You didn’t think that you could have taken five minutes to ask me about that video?”

A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney

A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney

“I know, Hayley,” he said, shaking his head. “I was stupid. I was already vulnerable, and she got into my head. I believed Miranda. I believed everything she said. And I let you go. Then she admitted the truth.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Months ago. She slipped up during an argument. She told me the video was old, and she knew I’d overreact. She said that she wanted me for myself and couldn’t stand that you had me.”

A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She’d destroyed everything we had, and he let her.

“I ended things with her that night,” he continued. “And I’ve spent every day since trying to figure out how to fix this. How to win you back.”

I shook my head, still completely overwhelmed.

“And this?” I gestured around. “What the heck is this?”

His lips curved into a small, nervous smile.

A wedding setting | Source: Midjourney

A wedding setting | Source: Midjourney

“This is me not waiting any longer…”

Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. Then he dropped to one knee.

“Hayley, I love you. I never stopped. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m asking for it anyway. Will you marry me? Right here, right now?”

I stared at him, my world spinning. Then, out of nowhere, it hit me.

A ruby engagement ring | Source: Midjourney

A ruby engagement ring | Source: Midjourney

Lena.

She’d planned this. She’d asked me to make the dress because she knew.

And the truth? I still loved him.

So, I whispered my answer.

“Yes, Adam.”

Lena appeared almost instantly, carrying flowers and beaming like a woman who’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

“You said yes!” she cried, hugging me tightly. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you before, Hayley. I didn’t see how much you meant to Adam until it was too late. Thank you for giving him another chance.”

Stylists and makeup artists seemed to appear out of nowhere. My parents showed up, looking both stunned and delighted. No one knew if I’d say yes, but they’d all been ready.

I changed into the dress I’d made with my own hands, realizing it had been meant for me all along.

Hair and makeup artists | Source: Midjourney

Hair and makeup artists | Source: Midjourney

When Adam and I stood together at the altar, his hand in mine, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years.

Peace.

After the ceremony, the crowd had thinned, and the music played softly in the background. I stood on the balcony of the venue, the crisp evening air cooling my flushed cheeks.

My hands rested on the railing as I stared at the horizon, trying to process everything that had happened.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“Hey.”

Adam’s voice came from behind me. I turned to see him standing there, tie loosened, the soft glow of string lights making his eyes look even warmer.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my lips curving into a small smile.

He stepped beside me, his arm brushing against mine as we both looked out into the night.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A smiling groom | Source: Midjourney

A smiling groom | Source: Midjourney

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

“I don’t even know what I am right now. Happy? Overwhelmed? Still waiting for someone to yell ‘April Fools’?”

He chuckled, his gaze softening.

“It’s real, Hayley. I promise.”

We fell silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice more serious.

A laughing bride | Source: Midjourney

A laughing bride | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t deserve this. You. I know I messed up. I let someone else’s lies break something beautiful, and I’ve hated myself for it every day since.”

I turned to face him, my heart tightening.

“You should’ve talked to me, Adam. I would have told you the truth. You hurt me so much when you left.”

His face crumbled just a little, his jaw flexing.

A woman looking pensive | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking pensive | Source: Midjourney

“I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

I stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for any doubt, any hesitation.

But there was none.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I whispered.

His lips curved into a smile, a mixture of relief and love.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

“Yeah, you are,” he said.

He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, lingering for just a moment.

“This time, I’ll get it right.”

I smiled back, the truth settling deep in my chest.

“This time, we will.”

“Come, love. Let’s go get some cake and champagne.”

But before we left the balcony, he pulled me into his arms, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

A wedding cake | Source: Midjourney

A wedding cake | Source: Midjourney

On the day of Mabel and Adam’s wedding, they’re stuck in a limousine as they crawl along the freeway, thanks to traffic. Instead of keeping her mother’s guests entertained, Mabel’s daughter, Amanda, takes over the wedding, stealing the limelight. Will Mabel retaliate at the wedding or just let Amanda learn her lesson another way?

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*