A tear escaped my eye as I clutched a photo of my late wife and our daughters at the beach. “I miss you, Ed,” I whispered, caressing Edith’s face in the picture. “The girls are growing up so fast. I wish you could see them now.” Her radiant smile gazed up at me, a life cancer had stolen too soon.

A soft knock interrupted my reminiscing. My mother poked her head in, concern in her eyes.

“Charlie, honey, you can’t keep living in the past. It’s been three years. You need to move on. Those girls need a mother figure.”

I sighed, setting the photo down. “Mom, we’re doing fine. The girls are—”

“Getting older!” she cut me off. “What about that nice woman from your office? Gabriela?”

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Gaby? She’s just a coworker.”

“And a single mother, just like you. Think about it, for the girls’ sake.”

One year later, I stood in our backyard, watching Gaby with my daughters. She had swooped into our lives, and before I knew it, we were married. It wasn’t the same as with Edith, but it was nice.

“Dad! Watch this!” my youngest called, attempting a cartwheel.

I clapped, forcing a smile. “Great job, sweetie!”

As we headed inside, Gaby cornered me in the kitchen, her eyes gleaming.

“Charlie, we need to talk about the girls’ trust fund,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet.

I froze. “What trust fund?”

Gaby rolled her eyes. “Edith left quite a nest egg for the girls, didn’t she?”

My stomach churned. “That’s for their future—college, starting out in life.”

“Exactly! What about my girls? Don’t they deserve the same?”

“That money is Edith’s legacy to her children.”

Gaby’s eyes narrowed. “Her children? We’re supposed to be one family now.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve treated your daughters like my own.”

“Please. If that were true, you wouldn’t be hoarding that money.”

I took a deep breath. “That fund is not ours to touch. It’s for my daughters’ future.”

“So your dead wife’s wishes matter more than your living family?”

“Don’t you dare speak about Edith that way. This ends now. That money is not up for debate.”

Gaby’s face flushed. “You’re impossible! How can you be so stubborn?”

A plan formed in my mind. “Fine! I’ll sort this out tomorrow.”

Gaby’s eyes lit up. “Really? You mean it?”

I nodded.

The next morning, I called my financial advisor, making sure Gaby could overhear.

“I’d like to set up a new account for my stepdaughters. We’ll fund it from our joint income.”

Gaby stood in the doorway, surprised and angry. “What are you doing?”

“Creating a fund for your daughters, but Edith’s money remains untouched.”

“You think this solves anything? This is a slap in the face!”

“This is me setting boundaries. We build our family’s future together.”

“You’re choosing your daughters over us.”

“I’m honoring Edith’s wishes. If you can’t respect that, we have a serious problem.”

Weeks passed, filled with icy silences. Gaby alternated between guilt-tripping and cold shoulders, but I stood firm.

One evening, as I tucked my daughters into bed, my oldest asked, “Daddy, is everything okay with you and Gaby?”

I paused. “We’re working through some stuff, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

As I left their room, I found Gaby waiting in the hallway.

“They’re good kids, Charlie. But my girls deserve just as much.”

“They all deserve our support.”

She scoffed. “That trust fund would’ve been real support.”

“This isn’t about playing hero. It’s about respect for Edith’s wishes.”

Months passed. One evening, Gaby approached me.

“They look happy,” she said.

“They do.”

“But it could’ve been better if you’d just listened to me.”

“No, Gaby. It wouldn’t have been better. It would’ve been unfair.”

As she stormed off, I felt a mix of sadness and relief. Gaby had shown her true colors, and while our marriage was strained, I knew I’d done the right thing.

I’d made my stance clear: Edith’s legacy was untouchable.

As I watched my daughters laugh, my heart swelled with determination to protect their future and their mother’s memory.

—

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