When Arnold proposed, he said, “You’re the girl I’ve always been looking for.” We’d dated nearly a year, and I didn’t hesitate to say yes. He was kind, funny, and everything I wanted. Meeting his father, Walter, was surprisingly warm—he welcomed me like family and supported our marriage fully.
Our wedding was small and sweet, and the first year felt like a honeymoon. Arnold ran the family hardware business, and I stayed home with our two kids, Lily and Jack. He was a loving husband and devoted dad, always thoughtful with little gifts and notes.
But two years ago, things changed. Arnold became distant and harsh, treating me like a servant despite my part-time job. Romance vanished, and when I brought up counseling or date nights, he dismissed me. Then he shocked me by demanding an open relationship for himself, saying I couldn’t have the same freedom because I was a mother.
His late nights, secret calls, and strange expenses piled up until one day I came home to a locked door and a note telling me to stay with my mother. Inside, he was with another woman, packing my things. Arnold coldly said he was done with me and didn’t expect me to leave because I depended on him financially.
Devastated but determined, I called Walter. He was furious at Arnold and quickly stepped in. Two days later, Walter showed up with a realtor and handed me keys to a lake house—the family home for me and the kids. He made it clear Arnold’s place was no longer his, and the business was taken out of Arnold’s hands, handed instead to a trusted deputy.
Arnold’s message demanding answers came after he found the locks changed and the house for sale. I didn’t respond. The divorce was paid for by Walter, and Arnold was ordered to pay child support. Now, Arnold lives in a small rental, abandoned by the woman he moved in with once the money stopped.
I still send Walter carrot cake every Sunday, and he calls me his real daughter—this time, I believe him.
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