I was with Jack for 20 years. We never married, and I finally walked away three years ago after he cheated. Just six months later, he married another woman. I moved on, built a new life, and had a daughter, Iris, with my current boyfriend. Jack still texted me on birthdays, but he ironically accused me of cheating when he found out about Iris. I never gave him the satisfaction of a response.
Then, the unthinkable happened: Jack died in a car crash. Soon after, I was stunned to learn he had left his entire $700,000 estate to me—not to his wife or his children.
Jack’s wife, Lauren, was understandably livid, demanding the money for her kids. I was torn between the legal reality and the moral weight until I found a letter Jack had left for me. In it, he thanked me for standing by him for two decades despite his flaws. He said he trusted me, above anyone else, to do the right thing with the money.
I decided to honor that trust. I set up a $500,000 trust for his children, reserved for when they turn 21, and kept $200,000 for my daughter and myself to secure our future. Lauren didn’t thank me immediately, but eventually, she apologized, admitting she’d been too blinded by anger to see the grace in what I’d done.
Years later, Jack’s AA sponsor reached out to thank me for honoring Jack’s last wishes without the drama. I even wrote a letter to Jack’s children, telling them that their father loved them quietly, despite the mistakes he made. Now, watching Iris play, I realize that forgiveness isn’t forgetting. Doing the right thing is rarely easy, but I’ve learned that peace is worth far more than any inheritance.
