Jack always believed that love transcended monetary value, yet his daughters seemed fixated solely on finances. When they insisted he cover their wedding expenses, his heart sank. Determined to instill a deeper understanding of family and respect, Jack decided it was time they learned a valuable lesson.
Hey everyone, Jack here, age 55. Let’s cut to the chase: what’s more important, love or money? You’d probably say love, right? Unfortunately, that’s where my story turns bittersweet. My daughters, well, they opted for MONEY…
About fifteen years ago, my wonderful wife Mary ended things with her unfaithful ex. We’ve been blissfully married for a decade, and she brought along three incredible daughters from her previous marriage. I embraced them wholeheartedly from the start.
Lily, the oldest, bonded with me quite quickly. We weren’t exactly two peas in a pod, but she’s always shown kindness and been there for us, particularly during tough times.
As for Sandra and Amelia? It was a different story. I did my utmost, truly. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, they viewed me through the lens of their biological father—judging me by my income, the car I drove, and even my appearance.
Their coldness was evident, but I didn’t let it deter me. I supported them through college, provided for their needs, and fulfilled my role as a father, hoping my efforts would eventually warm their hearts.
Interaction was limited, primarily during holidays. But then, out of the blue, both called me, almost simultaneously. Here’s how it went down:
“Jack,” they began eagerly, “we’ve decided on a double wedding! And, well…”
I could almost hear the dollar signs in their tone.
“And?” I prodded, my stomach knotting in anticipation.
“We want you to pay for them,” they stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural request in the world.
My teeth clenched so tightly, I thought I might crack a molar. Finance their weddings? The audacity!
Understand, the issue wasn’t the money. I’ve always seen them as my daughters, regardless of their feelings towards me. But their entitled demeanor? That cut deep.
“Why should I?” I asked, struggling to keep my composure.
“Well,” Sandra retorted, “you paid for Lily’s, didn’t you?”
Lily’s wedding was a different scenario altogether. She had never demanded anything; she hadn’t approached me with expectations. But when she needed help, I was there, ready to support her with a smile.
These two, however, had consistently compared me unfavorably to their biological father and criticized my efforts. Yes, their indifference hurt, but it never stopped me from loving them as my own. Still, I wasn’t just an ATM.
“What about your father?” I queried, clinging to a sliver of hope for some reasonableness.
“He says it’s too pricey for him,” Amelia replied with a tinge of entitlement. “So, since you’re better off, it falls to you, right?”
I was tempted to lash out, to spell out just how disrespectful and entitled they were behaving. But then, a spark of an idea hit me. Perhaps this was an opportunity to teach them something crucial about love, respect, and the true essence of family.
“Alright,” I said calmly, “let’s discuss this face-to-face. Come over tomorrow night, and we’ll talk it over.”
Their agreement was swift, tinged with excitement. They thought they had me cornered, but little did they know, I was about to turn the tables.
The following night, as the doorbell rang, I opened the door to find Sandra and Amelia laden with shopping bags, takeaway peeking out from the top.
“Hey, Jack!” Sandra greeted with a contrived smile. “Brought dinner—Thai, your favorite.”
Amelia corrected her, “It’s Pad Thai, not just Thai.”
I ushered them in, maintaining a neutral expression. “Welcome. But before we eat, we need to address this wedding situation.”
We settled into the living room, the food momentarily forgotten. I took a deep breath and laid out my thoughts.
“I’ve supported both of you through college, yet I’ve often felt underappreciated. Now, you expect me to finance your weddings. Why do you think that’s fair?”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Sandra and Amelia exchanged looks, having a silent conversation.
“Well,” Sandra finally said, “you helped with Lily’s wedding. It’s only fair you do the same for us, right?”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it,” I replied. “Lily has always been respectful and grateful. She never assumed I would just provide. You two, on the other hand, have done nothing but compare me to your father and others, never once treating me as part of the family or even calling me ‘dad.’”
“But we are family,” Amelia interjected, her voice defiant. “You’re supposed to do things for family, right?”
“Family, is it?” I mused, the word bitter on my tongue. “It seems we have different understandings of what that word means. More like strangers under one roof, isn’t it? But since you’re playing the family card, let’s see what that really entails. How about a challenge?”
A mischievous grin spread across my face as I leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. I’ll help with your weddings, but there’s a condition.”
I paused for effect.
“For the next three months, I want you both to live here, contribute around the house, and show me some genuine respect—no comparisons, no negativity, just real effort. If after three months, I see a real change, then the wedding funds are yours. If not, you’ll need to rethink your plans.”
The shock on their faces was palpable. Three months? Living here? This was not what they expected.
“Three months?” Amelia stammered. “But we have plans, jobs, apartments…”
“Those plans can wait,” I said firmly. “This is my offer. Take it or leave it.”
They exchanged a hesitant look, clearly not thrilled with the idea but tempted by the promise of funded weddings.
“Alright,” Sandra finally conceded, “three months. But we’re not doing dishes.”
I chuckled. “Dishes are part of the deal. But think of it this way—at least you’ll have a roof over your heads and some decent meals.”
What followed were weeks of adjustment. Sandra and Amelia were hardly skilled in household chores, and their complaints about daily tasks became a regular occurrence. They also couldn’t resist making passive-aggressive remarks about my taste in home décor.
However, as time passed, a transformation began. They saw the effort I put into maintaining our home, the care I showed in preparing meals, and the dedication I had towards their mother and them, even when it wasn’t reciprocated. They began to help out with chores, initially reluctantly, but with increasing participation. Family dinners, once awkward, became more natural, and conversation flowed more freely.
They started to understand the sacrifices I made, the extra hours I worked to ensure they could live comfortably. Gradually, the walls they had built began to crumble.
By the end of the three months, their attitudes had changed. They no longer viewed me as just an outsider, but as a true part of their family. I saw how they had grown from entitled young women into thoughtful, kind individuals.
One evening, as we gathered around the dinner table, Sandra spoke up, her voice soft.
“Jack,” she began, “these past months have been eye-opening. We’re really sorry for how we’ve treated you. The truth is, our fiancés are pitching in for the wedding, and we’ll be using some of our savings as well.”
“But that’s not all,” Amelia added. “We… we really want you to walk us down the aisle. Our dad was hardly around after the divorce, but you… you’ve always been there. You paid for our education, for Lily’s wedding, and you’ve always stepped up.”
“We’re sorry for not seeing you for who you truly are. We missed out on having a real dad, and realizing that now is painful,” Sandra added, her eyes moist.
Emotions swirled within me as I listened to their heartfelt apologies. They acknowledged my role in their lives, something I hadn’t dared hope for.
“Thank you,” I managed, my voice thick with emotion. “I’d be honored to walk you down the aisle.”
As the wedding day approached, I fulfilled my promise and contributed to their celebrations. But the true gift wasn’t financial—it was the newfound respect and love that had blossomed among us.
Walking my daughters down the aisle, I felt a profound sense of pride not only in their happiness but in the journey we had all undertaken. It was a celebration of not just their love stories but of a family that had grown stronger and more respectful.
Their weddings marked not just a union of hearts but a testament to the power of family, forgiveness, and the unexpected ways love can flourish.
Our House Was Egged on Christmas — I Was Flabbergasted When I Found Out Who Did It
When Ellie’s family returns from their Christmas getaway, they’re shocked to find their house egged and a cryptic note left behind. Determined to uncover the culprit, Ellie checks the security footage, only to discover the vandal is someone very close to her. Confronting the person reveals years of hurt and manipulation that nearly tears their bond apart. Can Ellie handle it?
Christmas has always been about family. That’s why, for the last four years, my husband Ethan, our seven-year-old daughter Maddie, our five-year-old son Noah, and I had made it a tradition to escape to the islands.
Just the four of us, basking in the sun, recharging before the whirlwind of holiday dinners and social obligations hit.
Two children at the beach | Source: Midjourney
And this year was no different. Or so I thought.
When we pulled into our driveway after the trip, I froze.
Our house looked like a crime scene.
Raw eggs dripped from the walls in sticky streams, the porch was littered with broken shells, and even the holiday wreath I’d lovingly crafted was a splattered, smelly mess.
A house covered in eggs | Source: AmoMama
“What the hell?” Ethan muttered, stepping out of the car, Noah on his heels.
“Mom, what happened?” Maddie asked from the backseat.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said, feeling a knot tighten in my chest.
Noah crouched beside the mess.
A little girl sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
“Could a bird do this, Dad?” he asked.
I tried to keep calm for the kids, but inside, I was fuming.
Who would do this?
We were good neighbors — no, we were great neighbors! I baked cookies for new families, helped organize block parties, and I never turned down a chance to lend a hand.
This wasn’t random vandalism. It was targeted. It had to be.
A plate of cookies | Source: Midjourney
Then Ethan found the note. It was stuffed under the doorframe, the edges crumpled and damp. He handed it to me.
This is for what you took from me before Christmas.
I stared at the words, my mind racing.
What had I taken? And from whom?
That night, after putting the kids to bed, Ethan and I went straight to the security cameras. As we scrolled through the footage, my stomach churned.
A piece of paper on the floor | Source: Midjourney
The camera captured a hooded figure sneaking up our driveway, cartons of eggs in hand. Each throw was deliberate, as though they’d rehearsed the motion. This wasn’t a prank; it was a vendetta.
“This is insane,” Ethan said. “Who even does this anymore? This is a drunken prank for rowdy teens. Eggs and toilet paper.”
Then, something about the figure made me freeze. The way they tilted their head. The way their shoulders slumped between throws. My breath caught in my throat.
A person holding a carton of eggs | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It can’t be.”
But it was.
The hooded figure vandalizing our home was my mother.
The next morning, I left Ethan with the kids and drove to my mom’s house. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly I thought I might snap it in two.
A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
When I rang the bell, she opened the door with her usual warm smile.
“Ellie! What a surprise!”
“Why?” I blurted, skipping the pleasantries. “Just explain why.”
Her smile faltered.
“Why what? Explain what?” she asked.
A woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Why would you do that to us? Don’t even try to hide it, Mom. Come on!”
She blinked, her face going pale as she tried to figure out what to say. Then, she looked away, her expression clouded with guilt.
“Come sit down, El,” she said.
“I don’t want to sit down, Mom. I want to know why you took it upon yourself to mess up my house.”
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“It was because of your mother-in-law,” she said finally, her voice tight.
“What does Gloria have to do with it?” I asked.
“She called me, Eleanor,” my mother snapped, anger seeping into her voice. “Right before Christmas, she called to gloat about how you and Ethan were taking her on your precious island vacation. She said you made her feel so included, so special. And that she got quality time with the kids. And me? Oh, I was just left here to sit alone in the cold.”
An older woman at the beach | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, completely stunned.
“Mom,” I said softly. “We didn’t take Gloria with us. That’s not true at all. She wasn’t on the trip, I promise!”
My mom’s eyes widened.
“But then… why would she say that?”
“To hurt you,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “To make you feel exactly this way. To drive a wedge between us. Why would I take Gloria and not my own mother?”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
She sank onto the couch, covering her face with her hands.
“I was so angry, Ellie. I felt invisible, like I didn’t matter to you anymore. And I… I lost control.”
Her words cut deep because they weren’t entirely wrong.
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
If I’m being completely honest, the truth was that I had let my mom drift to the edges of our lives. I adored her, of course, but between raising two young kids, managing a full-time job, and keeping up with everything else, I hadn’t noticed how isolated she’d become.
Looking back, the signs were there. The hesitation in her voice during phone calls, the way she’d stopped dropping by unannounced, usually with baked treats for us all.
I’d let my schedule get away with me. And I hadn’t thought about the consequences.
A woman working at her laptop | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” I said gently, sitting beside her. “What you did was wrong. But I understand why you felt hurt. And I’m sorry if I made you feel left out. I’ve let life get away with me, Momma. It’s been a challenge, juggling work and the kids.”
Her face crumpled.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” she said. “I’ll fix everything! I promise! I’ll pay for the cleaning, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
A crying older woman | Source: Midjourney
“We’ll clean it up, Mom,” I interrupted. “Together. But it starts with us fixing us. No more games. No more letting other people’s words twist how we feel. Okay?”
She nodded, her relief palpable. We hugged, and for the first time in years, it felt like the walls between us were finally coming down.
That afternoon, Mom came over with a bucket of soapy water and a stack of rags. Together, we scrubbed the egg off the walls, the porch, and the windows.
A bucket of soapy water | Source: Midjourney
It was messy, smelly, exhausting work, but somehow, with each streak we wiped away, it felt like we were wiping away years of tension too.
By the time we finished, the house looked — and felt — whole again.
That night, after Ethan and I made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids and put them to bed, we sat down to talk with a glass of wine.
Grilled cheese sandwiches | Source: Midjourney
“Babe, it was your mom that started this whole thing. Gloria called my mom and told her that she was on vacation with us and was having the time of her life. She made it seem so real that my mom broke.”
“You’re kidding, El,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “She really did that? What on earth was she thinking?”
“I have no idea, but I think you need to talk to her. I need to focus on my mom, honey. She’s been feeling abandoned for years, and this was just her breaking point. I’m sorry, but Gloria is on you.”
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll call her,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “She’ll have no choice but to tell me the truth.”
Ethan went into our bedroom and called his mother, while I called my mom again.
“Mom, why don’t you come over to celebrate New Year’s Eve with us? We’re just going to be at home, okay? Let’s just eat and drink and have a good time!”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then her voice brightened in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time.
“You really mean that?” she asked.
“I do, Mom,” I said. “It’s time.”
On New Year’s Eve, Mom arrived with a tray of homemade dumplings, a chocolate cake, and lamingtons for the kids. She was wearing a sparkling dress that made her look about ten years younger.
A platter of lamingtons | Source: Midjourney
Maddie and Noah rushed to greet her at the door, clinging to her legs as she fussed over them. Ethan handed her a glass of champagne and even managed to make her laugh with one of his notoriously terrible jokes.
At midnight, as the fireworks lit up the sky outside, we raised our glasses together.
“Cheers to new beginnings,” my mom said softly.
Fireworks in the night sky | Source: Midjourney
I looked around the room — at my kids’ happy, sleepy faces, my husband’s arm draped around my shoulders, and my mother, glowing with joy. Something shifted.
A week later, Ethan and I sat down with Gloria at a coffee shop.
“Mom, explain yourself,” Ethan said, adding sugar to his coffee. “And don’t deny anything. Be honest.”
A woman sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“I lied to your mother because I was hurt that you guys didn’t invite us. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I think I felt overcome with loneliness too. You know how the holidays can creep up on widows…”
“Why didn’t you just go over and spend time with her?” I asked, taking a bite of my croissant. “You were both lonely. You could have spent time together and enjoyed the holidays getting to know each other better. You could have watched movies and baked and talked until the early hours of the morning.”
A croissant and coffee at a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“I wasn’t thinking, Ellie,” she said, her voice breaking. “I would take it all back in a heartbeat if I could, I promise you that.”
We were all silent for a while.
“So, now what?” Ethan asked.
“I’m going to phone Irene and make things right. I’m going to plan a tea party with her and make this better. We’ll fix it. Just you see.”
A tea party setting | Source: Midjourney
“I hope so, Gloria,” I said. “Because we can’t have the kids torn between their grandmothers. I’m not going to allow that.”
“As you should!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t allow it either. I’ll fix it, Ellie. Don’t you worry about that, love.”
In the end, we left our mothers to themselves, and slowly but surely, they did fix their relationship. Now, they are mahjong buddies who bake something new every weekend.
And for the record, I can’t stand eggs anymore.
A carton of eggs on a counter | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
When Sarah gets home from the usual errands with her kids, the last thing she expects is to hear her husband spilling his true feelings about her — that she is just a means to an end in his life. But Sarah isn’t about to let Ethan get away with his callous behavior. Instead, she decides to teach him a lesson.
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.
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