After my grandfather died, my husband Michael shocked me with divorce papers. I thought he’d fallen out of love—until I saw him weeks later, driving a luxury car and wearing designer clothes.
He tossed a $100 bill at me like I was nothing.
But then I saw a tiny smiley face in the corner. My drawing. From a bundle of money Grandpa once offered me for my future—money I had turned down.
Harrison, Grandpa’s friend, confirmed my fear: Grandpa had trusted Michael to give me that money. Instead, Michael kept it.
With Harrison’s help, I hired Logan, a sharp and kind attorney. We confronted Michael, and he confessed. He agreed to return the money in installments.
A year later, I opened a veterinary clinic in Grandpa’s honor.
Logan came to the opening—and eventually became my husband.
I still carry that $100 bill. It reminds me of the man who truly loved me—and always will.