I believed in fairytales until I became twenty-five. Not the ones with talking animals or dragons, but the ones where “forever” meant something, where people are decent and loyal, and where love triumphs above everything. I thought so because of Alex.
For four years, he had been everything to me. dependable, kind, and encouraging—particularly with regard to his challenging mother, Martha, who expressed her disdain of me right away. She never approved of my appearance or the fact that I was a self-employed virtual assistant. She was constantly patronizing and passing judgment. However, Alex? He stood up for me. He would cling to me after each uncomfortable supper at her place, whispering that I was his true love and that she was resentful.
It was just another Tuesday. I discovered I had forgotten the milk for the sauce as I was preparing noodles. I asked Alex to pick it up when I contacted him because he was on his way home and was dropping by his mom’s place.
“Of course,” he responded pleasantly. “I’ll get it and go home, but I’m at Mom’s right now. I adore you.
I turned back to stir the pot after hearing the familiar click and assuming the call was over. However, after that… His voice came to me once more.
Alex said, “She bought it,” and Martha laughed. “She believes that I am a hero of some sort.”
“All right,” Martha said. Before the wedding, you must have her sign the property transfer. She is wasting that lake house. After you legally own her…
I felt sick to my stomach. My heart was racing. I grabbed my phone, then pressed the record button. It came naturally to me to occasionally record business calls. Now, though? I was recording the man I was going to marry planning to steal everything from me with the help of his mother.
They discussed putting pressure on me. About saying that if I resisted, I was unstable. Then they laughed, and I felt my skin crawl with their ruthless, contemptuous laughter.
My mother’s lake mansion was what they desired. A quiet little spot that contained all the good memories I still had of her. He had been invited into that realm by me. I had told him about it. He wanted to steal it now.
That evening, I refrained from confronting him. I also refrained from confronting him the following day.
She clarified that until I voluntarily signed it over or combined assets after marriage, inherited property remained my. Which was, of course, their whole strategy.
Alex gave me a folder two days before the wedding. “It was just some standard paperwork that was drawn up by my friend at the firm,” he added. only to keep us both safe.
Transfer of Property Rights, page four. The lake house.
“Oh, everything appears to be in order,” I responded kindly. “On the day of the wedding, I will sign it.”
He appeared relieved. “You’re incredible,” he remarked. “Mom was not correct about you.”
I grinned. She wasn’t.
I slid into the dress Martha detested on the morning of our wedding. It appeared “cheap” and “too old-fashioned,” according to her. It appeared to me to be freedom.