After my grandfather passed away, my husband Michael blindsided me with a divorce. I thought he had simply fallen out of love. That was until I saw him weeks later in a luxury sports car, dressed in designer clothes—nothing like the man who once worked long shifts as a cashier.
He threw a $100 bill at me like I was a beggar. I was about to leave it behind, but something caught my eye: a tiny smiley face drawn on the corner. My heart stopped. It was my drawing.
That bill was part of the cash my grandfather had once offered me for my future—money I declined. I had drawn that smiley during our last conversation, trying to cheer him up.
I went to Grandpa’s best friend, Harrison, who confirmed my worst suspicion: Grandpa had given the money to Michael, thinking it would help me somehow. Instead, Michael took it and divorced me right after.
