I’ll never forget the day my stepdaughter showed her true colors. There I was, grieving my beloved George, when Susan arrived with ultimatums about “her inheritance.”
The little girl who once called me Mom now sneered that I was “just the widow.” She demanded property, bank accounts, everything—never guessing her father had protected me.
When the lawyer revealed George’s brilliant planning, Susan’s tantrum could be heard down the block. She got exactly what she asked for: every penny in George’s name. Which turned out to be less than a used car’s worth.
Now? I sip coffee on my Mediterranean balcony while she files hopeless lawsuits. Karma’s a beautiful thing.
