Single Mother of 3 Shows up for the Reading of Her Late Husband’s Will Only to Find Out the Lawyer Was His Mistress — Story of the Day

Megan showed up to hear her late husband’s will, expecting closure—not betrayal. But when the polished young lawyer read his final words, Megan learned the unthinkable: everything had been left to her. Not to his wife—but to his mistress. And that was just the beginning.

The morning sun spilled across the windshield like melted gold, casting soft light on the dashboard, but Megan could barely keep her eyes open.

Her head throbbed, her eyes burned, and every part of her felt heavy. The kind of heavy that doesn’t come from lack of sleep—it comes from loss.

In the back seat, Eli and Noah were wrestling over a crumpled snack wrapper. It crinkled loudly between them as Noah shouted, “It’s mine!” and Eli yelled back, “You had your turn!”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Lily, their sister, tried to keep the peace, her small voice trying to sound like a grown-up’s.

“You’re acting like babies.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Boys, please,” Megan said, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

Her voice was calm, but there was a sharpness in it, a crack just under the surface. “Just… stop for five minutes, okay? Please.”

The car fell into a brief, tense silence.

Being a single mom was never easy. Megan had learned to juggle lunches, laundry, late-night fevers, and broken toys. But today, it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Two weeks ago, Tom, her husband, the kids’ dad, the one person who used to balance her out, had passed away.

The kids still laughed, argued, and played like always. They didn’t fully understand what had happened.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

But Megan did.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not ever. She had to be their anchor, their shield.

She dropped them off at school. Noah ran ahead. Lily skipped, her ponytail bouncing. But Eli—Eli lingered.

He stepped out of the car slowly, backpack dragging behind him. Megan saw the sadness in his eyes, the weight he was trying to hide.

“Hey,” she said gently, stepping out and walking around to him.

She bent down, so they were eye to eye, and placed her hands on his small shoulders.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

He didn’t say anything. Just looked down.

“We’ll get through whatever comes. I promise.” She ran her fingers through his hair the way Tom used to.

He nodded, slow and unsure, and turned toward the school doors.

Megan got back into the car. The silence now felt louder than the chaos before.

She reached up to flip down the sun visor, hoping to block the sharp sunlight. Something slipped out and fluttered into her lap.

It was a photo—an old Polaroid, edges curled slightly with time. It was her and Tom, laughing on a beach somewhere.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Their hair messy from the wind, cheeks sun-kissed, arms wrapped around each other like nothing could break them.

Her breath caught.

The tears came fast, too fast to stop. Her body shook as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel.

The grief hit her like a crashing wave, the kind that pulls you under.

Ten minutes passed before she finally sat up, wiped her face with both hands, and whispered, “Be strong.”

Then she started the car and drove to the lawyer’s office.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The law office was too clean, too quiet. The smell of lemon polish mixed with something faintly metallic—maybe from the filing cabinets or the air conditioning.

Megan stood in the doorway for a second, adjusting her blouse and brushing invisible lint off her skirt.

She wanted to look put together, like someone in control. But her fingers shook just a little as she opened the door.

A woman in a navy suit stood to greet her. She was tall and polished, her makeup perfect, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat twist.

Her smile was sharp, like it had been practiced in front of a mirror.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“You must be Megan,” she said. “I’m Jennifer Green, Tom’s attorney.”

Megan blinked. The name meant nothing to her. “You were his lawyer?” she asked, her voice flat with disbelief.

Jennifer nodded and handed her a clipboard. “Yes. I’ll be reading Tom’s final will.”

Megan took the clipboard and signed quickly, her hand tightening around the pen.

“Let’s just get this over with. I’ve got three kids and too many things to handle.”

“Of course,” Jennifer replied smoothly, sitting behind her desk with a little too much ease. That smile again—it didn’t feel warm. It felt smug.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jennifer opened the folder in front of her and began reading.

“Thomas Carter’s final will… item one: the family home… item two: vehicle… item three: bank accounts…”

Megan listened, her face blank. This was all expected.

Then—

“And I leave all assets and property to Jennifer Green.”

The words hit like a punch. Megan blinked. “Wait. What did you just say?”

Jennifer looked up, face calm. “Tom left everything to me.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“To you?” Megan’s voice cracked. “You’re the lawyer. That doesn’t even make sense!”

“I only follow his instructions,” Jennifer said, folding her hands like she was preparing for a board meeting.

“It was his decision.”

Megan stood up fast, her chair scraping loudly behind her. “No. No, this is wrong. You were sleeping with him, weren’t you?”

Jennifer didn’t flinch. She only tilted her head, like she was bored of pretending. “He loved me.”

Megan’s chest tightened. The office began to blur around the edges.

She stepped back, barely able to breathe. “You’ll regret this,” she said, voice low and shaking.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jennifer didn’t answer.

Megan didn’t wait for one. She turned on her heel and walked out, the sound of her heels hitting the floor the only thing keeping her upright.

Later that afternoon, Megan pulled into the school parking lot, trying to push the morning’s shock to the back of her mind.

Eli and Noah came running, backpacks bouncing, shouting about who won kickball. Lily followed close behind, holding a paper crown she made in class.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?” Noah asked, climbing into the backseat.

“Can we have pancakes?” Lily added, already buckling in.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Megan smiled weakly. “We’ll see, honey.” Her voice was steady, but it didn’t feel like hers. She kept the smile on her face, even as her heart felt like it was crumbling.

They were noisy and hungry and full of questions, just like always. And she couldn’t bring herself to tell them the truth yet.

When they pulled into the driveway, Megan’s stomach dropped. A man in a dark suit stood waiting on the porch. He held a folder and looked like someone delivering bad news.

“Mrs. Carter?” he asked as she stepped out of the car.

“Yes?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I’m here on behalf of the property owner. I’m afraid you’ll need to vacate the home within seven days.”

She stared at him, frozen. “What? No. There must be a mistake. I have three kids!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but his voice was flat. “It’s all legal. The ownership’s been transferred.”

Megan begged. She raised her voice. “Please, this is our home. My kids—”

But the man only shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Inside, Megan closed the door behind her and slid down to the floor. Her back pressed against the wood, her hands in her lap, useless.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Everything was slipping through her fingers—her marriage, her home, the life she thought she had.

“Mom?” Noah’s voice was small now. He stood a few feet away, holding his backpack. “Are we going to be okay?”

Megan looked at him, her throat tight. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to promise him everything. But no words came.

That night, after the kids were asleep, she walked into the bedroom and opened Tom’s closet. His shirts still hung neatly, still smelled like him.

She started pulling everything down, ready to throw it all away.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

A jacket slipped from her arms and fell to the floor.

Something slid from the pocket and landed near her feet.

A sealed envelope.

She picked it up, staring at her name written in Tom’s handwriting.

With shaking hands, Megan broke the seal on the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper inside.

One glance at the handwriting, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Tom’s. She’d know those messy, uneven letters anywhere.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her eyes moved slowly across the page.

Megan,If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone.I know I already gave a copy of the will to Jennifer, but I’ve started to doubt her. Something feels off. Just in case… here’s the real version. Give it to a good lawyer. One you trust.You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.I love you. Always.—Tom

Megan covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes burned. For a moment, she just sat there, holding the letter close to her chest.

Inside the envelope was another folded paper—an official-looking document. A second will.

She opened it, reading carefully. Every word felt like a breath of air after being underwater.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The house. The savings. Everything. Left to her and the kids.

Her shoulders shook. But it wasn’t sadness this time.

It was anger.

Jennifer had lied. She’d tricked everyone. She tried to steal what Tom had left behind for his family.

Megan wiped the tears from her face, but her hands were steady now. Her heart beat strong in her chest.

She wasn’t broken anymore. She was ready.

This wasn’t just about what was taken. With the real will, Jeniffer`s days were numbered.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

It was about what she was going to take back.

Within a week, everything changed.

Megan didn’t waste a second. The next morning, she called Carol Reynolds, a local attorney known around town for her no-nonsense attitude and sharp sense of justice.

Carol was in her sixties, with gray curls and reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck.

She listened carefully as Megan told her everything, then nodded and said, “Let’s fix this.”

The court moved faster than Megan had expected. Carol brought the real will, Tom’s letter, and the story

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Megan had lived through. The truth came out like sunlight through clouds. Jennifer was exposed—she had faked the will, lied, and nearly got away with it.

She didn’t.

The court stripped Jennifer of her law license. Charges were filed. Megan didn’t feel joy seeing her fall—just relief. Like something heavy had finally been lifted.

In the end, Megan kept the house. The car. The savings. But more than that, she kept something deeper—her children’s home.

Their place of safety. A piece of the life she and Tom had built together.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

One warm Sunday morning, Megan sat on the front porch. The kids laughed in the yard, chasing each other under the soft breeze.

Her coffee was warm in her hands. The trees swayed gently, sunlight flickering through the leaves.

Life wasn’t perfect. She still missed Tom. That ache hadn’t left. But it didn’t rule her anymore.

“Mom!” Lily called, running up with a bunch of wildflowers. “These are for you!”

Megan smiled and took them. “They’re beautiful, honey. Thank you.”

She looked at the sky, eyes soft, and whispered, “We’re going to be just fine.”

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AT 78, I SOLD EVERYTHING I HAD AND BOUGHT ONE WAY TICKET TO SEE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE – IN THE PLANE, MY DREAM WAS CRUSHED

The worn leather of the suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of regret, of guilt gnawing at my soul. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life. Forty years since my own stupidity had torn us apart.

I glanced at the address scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. 123 Maple Street, Willow Creek, Ohio. It felt like a destination in a dream, a place I had only ever dared to imagine.

The plane ride was a blur. My mind raced, a whirlwind of memories and “what ifs.” What would she look like now? Would she still have that mischievous glint in her eyes, that infectious laugh that used to fill our small apartment? Would she recognize me, this old man, weathered by time and regret?

As the plane began its descent, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles white. My chest felt tight, a burning sensation spreading through my lungs. Voices, muffled and distant, seemed to come from far away.

“Sir, are you alright?”

I tried to respond, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips. The world tilted, then plunged into darkness.

When I awoke, I was in a sterile white room, the smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. A blurry image of concerned faces swam into view – a nurse, a doctor, a young woman with kind eyes.

“Where… where am I?” I croaked, my voice weak and raspy.

“You’re at St. Jude’s Hospital, sir,” the young woman said gently. “You suffered a heart attack. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Heart attack. The words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my mortality. But a different thought, more urgent, pushed its way to the forefront. Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Is she… is she here?”

The young woman hesitated, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. “I… I don’t know, sir. Who is Elizabeth?”

My heart sank. Had I imagined it? Had the years of loneliness and regret twisted my mind, creating a fantasy, a desperate hope?

Days turned into weeks. I spent my recovery in the hospital, haunted by the uncertainty. The doctors assured me that I was stable, but the fear of losing consciousness again, of never seeing Elizabeth, lingered.

One afternoon, as I sat by the window, watching the world go by, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. A woman, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was more beautiful than I remembered, her face etched with the lines of time, yet her smile was the same, the same smile that had captivated me all those years ago.

“Arthur,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tears welled up in my eyes. It was her. Elizabeth.

She rushed towards me, her arms open wide. I held her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender, a scent that transported me back to a time of youthful dreams and endless possibilities.

“I never stopped loving you, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped waiting.”

And in that moment, I knew that despite the years that had passed, despite the pain and the regret, love, true love, had a way of finding its way back home.

As we held each other, the world seemed to melt away. The years of separation, the loneliness, the fear – all of it seemed insignificant compared to the joy of holding her in my arms once more. We had lost so much time, but we still had now. And that, I realized, was all that truly mattered. The worn leather of my suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of longing, of regret, of a life lived in a perpetual twilight. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life, the woman whose laughter still echoed in the empty chambers of my heart.

I remembered the day vividly. The rain was coming down in sheets, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. We were arguing, a petty disagreement blown out of proportion by youthful pride and stubbornness. I had stormed out, my words echoing in the rain-slicked street. “Fine,” I had spat, “I don’t need you!”

I hadn’t meant it. Not really. But the words hung heavy in the air, a cruel echo of my own anger. I walked for hours, the rain washing away my pride and replacing it with a growing dread. When I finally returned, the lights in our small apartment were off. I called her name, my voice cracking with fear, but there was no answer.

The police found her car abandoned by the river, a chilling testament to the storm that had raged within me. The search parties, the endless waiting, the gnawing uncertainty – it had aged me beyond my years. The vibrant hues of life had faded, replaced by a monotonous grey.

Then, a miracle. A letter, tucked amongst a pile of bills and advertisements, a faded envelope bearing a familiar handwriting. “I’ve been thinking of you,” it read.

The words, simple yet profound, ignited a fire within me. Hope, a fragile ember that had long since been extinguished, flickered back to life. I devoured every letter, each one a precious piece of her, a glimpse into the life she had built. I learned about her children, her grandchildren, her passions, her joys, and her sorrows. And with each letter, the ache in my heart lessened, replaced by a yearning so intense it almost consumed me.

Then, the invitation. “Come,” it read, “Come see me.”

She had included her address.

And so, here I was, 78 years old, sitting on a plane, my hands trembling, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. I hadn’t flown in decades. The world outside the window, a blur of clouds and sky, mirrored the chaos within me.

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in my chest. I gasped for air, my vision blurring. Voices, distant and muffled, filled my ears. “Sir, are you alright?” “We need to get him some air!”

Panic clawed at my throat. Not now. Not when I was finally this close.

Then, through the haze, I saw her face. Her eyes, the same shade of hazel as mine, wide with concern.

“John?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The pain, the fear, the decades of longing – they all faded away. All that remained was her. Elizabeth.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring her face. But I knew. I knew it was her.

And as I slipped into unconsciousness, I whispered her name, a silent prayer, a love song carried on the wind.

I woke up in a hospital room, the scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils. Elizabeth sat beside me, her hand gently clasped in mine.

“You gave me quite a scare,” she said, her voice soft as a summer breeze.

I managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

And as I looked at her, at the lines etched on her face, the silver strands in her hair, I knew that this was just the beginning. We had forty years to catch up on, to rediscover the love we had lost. Forty years to make up for the time we had wasted.

And as I held her hand, I knew that this time, nothing would ever tear us apart again.

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