When my family’s house was sold for redevelopment, we received a windfall of $1.2 million. I planned to use the opportunity to take my parents on a road trip, but my girlfriend stopped me. “I need $300,000 for a wedding settlement, $600,000 for a house for my brother, and $50,000 for a new car for my parents,” she demanded. “Whatever’s left, we’ll split it after the wedding.” I laughed, packed up, and took my parents on that road trip anyway. Along the way, I found a girlfriend with actual values. Content When our old family home in Hickory Ridge, North Carolina, was sold, we didn’t just receive a couple of new properties in exchange—we also got a windfall of $1.2 million. My parents, ever practical, decided to transfer half of the money—$600,000—into my account. “You’re working now, Colton,” Mom said calmly. It’s time for you to learn how to manage money. Don’t waste it on anything stupid like gambling or drugs; the rest is up to you.” I practically jumped for joy, hugging my mom and peppering her with kisses. “You guys are the best parents ever! Don’t worry, I’ll use it wisely. No reckless spending, I promise!” With newfound excitement, I called my girlfriend, Amber Winslow, and treated her to dinner and a movie. On a whim, I even bought her that high-end designer bag she’d been eyeing for months. Amber’s eyes sparkled with delight. “What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday, and it’s not a holiday. Why are you suddenly showering me with such an expensive gift?” Unable to contain myself, I showed her the bank notification of the transfer. “My parents gave me a huge chunk of money from selling our old house. I’ve officially upgraded from middle-class Colton to the future heir of the Hayes estate!” Amber took my phone and stared at the zeros in my account, counting them repeatedly, her face frozen in shock. Although my family has always been financially stable, I never had this money. It was overwhelming but in a good way. I was too wrapped up in the joy to notice Amber’s expression subtly shift. “I’m thinking of buying a luxury RV,” I said, grinning. “I’d love to take my parents on a road trip across the country. They’ve worked hard all their lives; it’s time to treat them to some well-deserved relaxation.” Amber’s cheerful mood seemed to falter. “An RV? A road trip? That must cost a fortune.” “Not really,” I replied after thinking for a moment. “A decent one will probably set me back about $80,000.” “Eighty thousand dollars?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. Her reaction puzzled me. Sensing my confusion, Amber forced a smile. “Babe, maybe skip the RV. Your parents could join a local tour group for a few days instead. Why spend so much?” She linked her arm with mine, her tone turning sweet. “Think about it. An RV is so expensive, and it’s not like you’ll use it year-round. Most of the time, it’ll just sit in the driveway collecting dust. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give me that money instead?” Her reasoning started to put me on edge, but I calmed myself down, assuming she was worried about wedding expenses. “Amber,” I said, “my parents already set aside money for our house and the wedding long ago. This windfall has nothing to do with those plans.” Amber huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s not just about me. My brother Lance is getting engaged soon, and his fiancée is demanding a $140,000 engagement settlement plus a house in Washington, D.C.’s top school district.” “You know my family can’t afford that, but with this money, you could help. Just $200,000 for the settlement and the house, another $50,000 for a car for my parents, and you can let me manage the rest. I’ll be handling our finances after the wedding anyway.” Amber added in a muttered tone, “And my parents have never been on vacation either. How about you take them along, too?” Her words carried an unspoken assumption—that the money was hers to claim. I stared at Amber’s expectant face and remained silent. I wasn’t the type to judge someone based on material needs. I wouldn’t have stayed with Amber all these years if I had. We’d been together since high school. Back then, she was the smart girl in our class, and our teacher assigned us seats together so she could help me with my grades. Her patience and gentle smile had left a lasting impression. Amber’s family wasn’t well-off—I knew that. I’d even paid her college tuition and living expenses for four years because her parents couldn’t afford it. Without my help, she likely would’ve been forced into an early marriage with some middle-aged bachelor in exchange for a meager settlement to support her brother, Lance. I even accompanied her to legally change her name from “Sherry Winslow” to something less old-fashioned. Over the years, I never let her spend a dime when we were together. Every date, every outing—it was always on me. And while I indulged her, she grew accustomed to being pampered. When Amber graduated, I persuaded my parents to help her get a job she’d never qualified for. But now, looking back at it all, I wondered if I’d gone too far. Gently withdrawing my arm from hers, I said in an amused tone, “Amber, your brother getting married isn’t my responsibility. Why should I buy him a house?” Her expression darkened. “Colton, are you stupid? My brother will be your brother once we’re married. I’ll quit my job, stay home, cook for you, clean for you, give you a big family, and spend the rest of my life paying you back. How’s that for a deal?” What a calculation. I’d give her family everything, and she’d repay me with her “loyalty.” When I didn’t respond, her patience snapped. Her voice softened again as if coaxing me. “Babe, if you love me, you’ll love my family too. I’ll always be a good wife and mother; when my family’s doing well, it reflects well on me. Isn’t that important?” Her demands were absurd. I didn’t care what she said. “I’m not giving you the money,” I stated firmly. Amber exploded. “Colton Hayes, don’t push me! Are you seriously refusing to buy my brother a house? After everything I’ve done for you, my years with you mean nothing? Now that you’ve got money, you’re just dumping me?” The argument escalated in the middle of the mall, drawing stares from passersby. I hated causing a scene. I tried to lead her somewhere private to talk, but she yanked her arm away and angrily threw her new designer bag on the floor. Picking it up, I said, “If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to my mom. She’ll appreciate it more.” Without a backward glance, I walked away. Amber’s shouts followed me, accusing me of ingratitude. “You’ll regret this, Colton! After everything I sacrificed for you, you owe me!” But I didn’t look back.
Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The thrill of newfound wealth had evaporated entirely. I reflected on my years with Amber. When it wasn’t about her family, she was the perfect girlfriend—kind, attentive, and warm. She was everything I’d ever wanted. But her obsession with her parents and brother, her greed, and her entitlement—it was too much. Later that night, she texted me, asking if I was still angry. Seeing her familiar profile picture, I hesitated. For a moment, it felt like the Amber I loved was back. After typing and deleting several replies, I finally settled on two words: “Not angry.” Amber sent a picture of a dish she’d just learned to cook. “Practice makes perfect. I’ll make it for you soon,” she wrote cheerfully, as though our earlier argument hadn’t happened. Maybe she’d realized her mistake. I decided to test her. I sent her photos of two luxury RVs. “Which one do you think I should buy?” I asked. Minutes later, Amber replied with a string of ellipses. I followed up, “I’m leaning toward the first one. It’s spacious, fuel-efficient, and stylish. Perfect for road trips.” Barely two seconds after I sent the text, my phone rang. As soon as I picked up, Amber’s furious voice erupted. “Are you deaf? Didn’t I tell you not to waste money on an RV? Your parents don’t deserve it! And how dare you make decisions without consulting me? That money is ours for our future, and you’re being selfish!” I didn’t let her finish. “Let me remind you, Amber, we’re not married yet. That money isn’t ‘ours.’ It’s mine. And I don’t owe your family anything. If they want a house or a car, they can buy it themselves.” Amber hung up on me mid-sentence. When I tried calling back, I realized she’d blocked me. She always did this after arguments—blocking me on everything until I showed up with gifts and apologies. This time, I decided to let it be.
Early in the morning, I brush my teeth, prepare, and sit at the table for breakfast. I couldn’t help but notice something was off with Mom. She kept her head down, barely looked at me, and said nothing. Her demeanor felt unusually downcast. “Mom, what’s wrong? Your eyes are red. Did Dad do something to upset you?” I asked, concerned. Forcing a smile, she quickly wiped her eyes. “No, sweetie. It’s nothing. I just got a little something in my eye while cooking.” I glanced at the table. Breakfast was takeout from a diner—scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage biscuits—and there was no sign of cooking anywhere. I shifted my gaze to Dad, who sighed and handed me Mom’s phone. “Take a look,” he said quietly. It was a text from Amber Winslow sent late last night. The message was blunt, almost hostile: She demanded that I use the family money on her family—her brother, her parents, and their needs—or else she wouldn’t “respect” my parents after marriage. The words stung with entitlement and disdain. My parents had never approved of Amber. They warned me about her initially, but because they loved me and respected my choices, they eventually stopped voicing their concerns. Over the years, Amber never visited them or even sent a holiday card. And now, this was the first time she’d reached out—just to make such an offensive demand. Mom spoke softly, “Colton, as long as you’re happy, your dad and I don’t mind. You decide to make.” I stared at my parents. Their once-dark hair now had streaks of gray, and the lines on their faces seemed more profound than I remembered. We’d always been a tight-knit family, yet here we were, fractured by Amber’s selfishness. My parents had sacrificed so much to make my life easier. How could I let them suffer the indignity of being mistreated by her and her family? Amber’s audacity before marriage was already unbearable. If we tied the knot, her family would surely drain us dry. “Delete the message,” I told my mom. “Block her number. You don’t need to deal with this nonsense.” Mom hesitated for a moment but nodded. She trusted me to handle it. A few days later, Amber finally cracked. Unblocking me, she said, “Have you realized your mistake these past few days?”
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