My husband helped me raise my daughters, although he was not their biological father. In the end, he made a huge decision on his own that changed my life and ruined everything.
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Years ago, I met Nicholas during the hardest time of my life. I was a single mother and had two daughters to feed. But we fell in love and got married in less than a year. We also moved into the most beautiful home I could imagine.
Nicholas had been divorced in the past and had a son he barely spoke to, Nick Jr. His ex-wife did everything in her power to stop Nicholas from seeing the kid. He hated her attitude and missed his son.
We moved into a beautiful house after our wedding. | Source: Shutterstock
Therefore, he took on a fatherly role with my daughters and became the best dad they ever had. Eventually, they stopped calling him “stepfather.” He was just their dad. But that was more than 20 years ago. My daughters grew up and now have families of their own.
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Luckily, my eldest, Darlene, gave us two grandchildren. Nicholas adored those boys, and they visited often. They came for lunch one Sunday, and I wanted to talk to Darlene about something serious. My husband had told me something the night before that I wasn’t sure I could deal with at all.
I thought it was unfair, but I wanted my daughter’s honest opinion. Luckily, Nicholas planned to take the kids to the park. “Ok, Alice, honey. See you later,” he said, giving me a worried look because he knew I had been thinking about last night.
I had to talk to Darlene about what her father did. | Source: Pexels
“Mom, what’s going on?” Darlene asked when we were finally alone.
“Oh, Darlene. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t know if I’m being selfish or what,” I started.
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“Tell me. We’ll figure things out,” she told me.
“Last night, your father revealed something that I’m not sure I can forgive. He willed this big mansion to his son, Nick,” I explained.
“What? I thought he hadn’t spoken to Nick in years,” Darlene said, confused.
“He hasn’t! Ever since that big fight where Nick called him all kinds of names because Nicholas wouldn’t give him money,” I added.
“But then, he’s giving him this house? You live here too. You guys are married,” Darlene continued.
Darlene couldn’t believe Nicholes would do this. | Source: Pexels
“That’s the problem, sweetheart. He just made that decision on his own without telling me anything about it. He showed me the will last night. It has been notarized and everything,” I said. “He is also giving him all the money in his bank account.”
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“I can’t believe Dad would do this,” Darlene said. “I mean…I wasn’t expecting anything for my sister or me. But he completely disregarded us…his family for 20 years.”
“That’s how I feel. Like after all this time, we were never his real family! His son has treated him horribly for so long, and I know that his horrible mother influenced him. But still…I don’t know what to do,” I finished and dried the tears running down my face.
We always had a seemingly great relationship. | Source: Pexels
“I’m just in shock. You guys have had the perfect relationship for so long. My husband and I talked about it all the time. I can’t believe Dad would do this,” Darlene muttered. “Let me call Rosaline. Let’s see what she thinks.”
“Dad did what?!” Rosaline yelled through the speakerphone. “I can’t believe it. I don’t want his money, but I can’t believe he wouldn’t want Mom to be set for life if anything happens.”
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“Yeah, that’s how I feel,” Darlene told her sister. Meanwhile, I was still crying softly.
“Well, I’m sorry. I consider him my father, but I won’t tolerate this. Mom, you have rights to the house and the money. We are taking legal action NOW!” Rosaline exclaimed and hung up.
I didn’t want to take legal action, but my daughters insisted. | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t want to take this any further. He’s my husband, and I know he wants to take care of Nick Jr. because he wasn’t there most of his life,” I told Darlene, hoping that she would convince her sister to back down.
“No, Mom. That wasn’t Dad’s fault or yours. What are you going to do if something happens? You would be left homeless and penniless. Rosaline is right. We have no option unless he changes his will,” Darlene coaxed.
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“I’ll try to talk to him,” I said tentatively. But I knew Nicholas. I knew he wouldn’t change his mind. I talked to him that night after Darlene left with her kids. Nicholas wouldn’t budge, so I packed my things and went to stay at Rosaline’s house.
Our relationship was ruined, but at least, I wasn’t homeless and penniless. | Source: Pexels
We took him to court but gave him many chances to change his mind. In the end, Nicholas decided to sell the big house and give me half the price. I didn’t want to divorce him, but there was no other option. So I received half our savings as well.
He ruined our relationship. My daughters and I never saw him again. In the end, he didn’t consider us family at all.
What can we learn from this story?
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- Money troubles can ruin everything. Nicholas disregarded part of his family in favor of his son, and in the end, he ruined his marriage.
- You have to protect yourself. Alice didn’t want to take her husband to court, but her daughters wanted to protect her.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
My husband created a new schedule to ‘improve my role as a wife’ — I taught him a lesson in return
I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along.Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.
I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.
I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
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