I thought Jake and I were building our dream life together – cozy apartment, sweet cat, plans for the future. Then my grandmother passed, leaving me half a million dollars, and suddenly his family saw me as their personal ATM.
It started innocently enough with Sunday dinners at his parents’ house. But the week after Jake told them about my inheritance, his mother Denise cornered me with an envelope. “A little gift,” she cooed. Inside? A detailed list of expensive presents I needed to buy to be “accepted” into their family – from a Cartier bracelet for her to a new car for his sister.
I played along with a sweet smile while my stomach churned. That night, I confronted Jake, hoping he’d be as horrified as I was. Instead, he brushed it off as “just how Mom is.” That’s when I realized – if he couldn’t see how wrong this was, he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
The next Sunday, I arrived with my own “gifts” – a toy car, plastic jewelry, Monopoly money. As the color drained from Denise’s face, I announced our engagement was off. Three years together, and it took one greedy demand list for me to see the truth. Now I’m happily settled in my new home, bought with Grandma’s money, while they’re stuck with their cheap plastic “gifts.”
