Losing my wife was hard enough. What came after was worse. Her three adult children, whom I’d helped raise for years, made it clear I meant nothing to them. Still, I let them stay in our home rent-free, covering all expenses while they saved money.
But kindness has limits. They stopped cleaning, cooking, or even pretending to care about the house. I became their unpaid landlord and maid. The breaking point? Realizing they’d never change.
So I sold the house. The market was good, and I walked away with enough to start fresh. I even gave each of them $10,000—a generous goodbye gift, considering their behavior.
Their anger surprised me. They acted like I’d betrayed them, even though they’d treated the place like a dump. Now, they’re on their own, and I’m finally free.
Some call me cruel. I call it self-respect.
