George’s absence haunted our home, his memory wrapped in the worn-out shirt I clutched every night. The scent of him was fading, but my grief remained fresh. Yet, it wasn’t his passing that shattered me the most—it was Susan, his daughter, the girl I once called my own.
She didn’t come to comfort me, didn’t call to check how I was coping. Instead, six months after my beloved husband was gone, she stood on my doorstep with fire in her eyes and a demand that left me breathless.
“Mom, we need you to sign some papers,” Susan said the moment I opened the door.
Her husband, Doug, stood beside her, holding a thick folder, and behind them, a stern-looking man in a suit adjusted his glasses. There was no warmth in their eyes, no condolences, no concern—just impatience.
“What papers?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Doug shoved the documents toward me, flipping through them with an air of entitlement. “Just sign these. It’s for transferring all the assets into our names.”
I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. My fingers gripped the doorframe to steady myself. “Excuse me?”
Susan sighed, rolling her eyes as if I were an inconvenience. “Dad’s assets, Mom. We’re here to claim what’s rightfully ours.”
Ours. That word echoed in my head like a cruel joke.
“Susan…” My voice trembled. “Your father just died. Do you even hear yourself?”
Doug scoffed. “Look, let’s not make this difficult. It’s just legal stuff. The faster you sign, the easier it’ll be.”
I straightened my spine, a fire igniting in me that grief had almost extinguished. “No.”
Susan’s face darkened. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no,” I said, my voice stronger now. “I will not sign over my husband’s life’s work just because you walked in here demanding it.”
Her expression twisted with fury. “You can’t do this! You’re not even my real mother!”
That cut deeper than I expected. I had loved Susan like my own. I had been there for her when she had nightmares as a child, when she had her first heartbreak, when she got married. And yet, at the moment, she was nothing like the girl I once knew.
Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Your father would be heartbroken if he knew how you were treating me.”
Susan scoffed. “Dad would’ve wanted me to have what’s mine!”
“Your father would have wanted you to be a decent person!” I snapped. “But clearly, that’s asking too much!”
Doug slammed his fist on the table. “You think a few harsh words will scare us? Sign the damn papers!”
My heart pounded. I wanted to scream, to push them out of my house, but I was frozen in disbelief. That’s when my neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, an old friend of George’s, walked in after hearing the commotion.
“You heard her,” he said, stepping between me and them. “This isn’t your place, and you’re not welcome. Get out before I call the cops.”
Susan’s lips curled in fury, but she knew better than to push it further. “This isn’t over, Mariana! You’ll regret this!” she shouted as Doug dragged her away.
I collapsed onto the couch, my hands shaking. Had greed really turned Susan into this?
For weeks, she bombarded me with calls, texts, threats, and insults. I was exhausted. Finally, I decided to give in.
I met with my lawyer, ready to let Susan have what she wanted. I thought maybe, just maybe, it would bring me peace. But fate had other plans.
A week later, Susan stormed into my house again, waving a document in my face. Her cheeks were flushed with rage. “HOW DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed.
I raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“This pathetic inheritance!” she spat. “Three thousand dollars and an old Mustang? Where’s everything else?”
I took the paper from her, glancing over it. Sure enough, George’s bank account held a mere three grand, and the only thing in his name was his old Mustang.
Susan’s face contorted with disbelief. “What about the house? The SUV? The farmhouse?”
I smiled, the weight of months of pain lifting off my shoulders. “Oh, sweetheart, those aren’t in his name. They were transferred to me years ago.”
Her breath hitched. “No… No, that’s not possible!”
My lawyer, standing beside me, cleared his throat. “It’s all legal, Ms. Anderson. Your father ensured his wife would be taken care of. Everything belonged to Mariana before he passed.”
Susan staggered back, looking between me and the lawyer, her fury mounting. “You tricked me!”
“No, Susan,” I said, finally at peace. “I gave you exactly what was your father’s. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Her scream of frustration filled the house as she stormed out, vowing to fight me in court. But she had no case. George had made sure of that.
With that chapter closed, I made a decision. I sold the house, the SUV, the farmhouse—everything. I made a small fortune and moved far away, to a place George and I had once dreamed of retiring together. It wasn’t the same without him, but for the first time in months, I felt free.
Then, one day, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. A deep male voice spoke when I answered.
“Mrs. Anderson, I’m calling on behalf of Susan. She wants to meet with you.”
I let out a long sigh. “No.”
“She insists—”
“I have nothing to say to her,” I cut him off. “Tell her she got what she wanted. Now, she needs to live with it.”
As I hung up, I stared out at the beautiful ocean view in front of me. Susan had made her choice, and so had I. I wasn’t going to spend my days fighting a battle fueled by greed and resentment. I was going to live, to honor George’s memory, to finally find peace.
And that, I realized, was the greatest revenge of all.
