Arabella spent years saving for her dream home, but she never thought her own family would try to steal her money. This deception forced her to select between keeping the peace and keeping what was rightfully hers.
For three years, I had pinched every penny toward our future home.
“Girl, you need to live a little,” my friend Darla would often say while eating her $18 crab salad. “You can’t take it with you when you pass away.”
“But I can live in the house I buy with my money while I’m alive,” I’d reply.
Nathan never bothered saving anything.
“Babe, you really should start saving too,” I’d suggest.
“Even a little bit helps.”
He’d barely look up from his game. “We’ve got time. You’re so good with money anyway.” Or my personal favorite: “What’s mine is yours, babe. Why stress about it?”
“Because it’s our future,” I’d argue.
“And you’re handling it great. That’s why we’re such a good team.”
But love always makes you become color blindness person.
That fateful evening, I had just finished a 12-hour shift at the hospital.
Instead, I opened our door to find Barbara and Christian, Nathan’s parents, in our living room, looking like they owned the place.
“Let’s talk about your house fund,” she announced without preamble.
“What?”
My father-in-law stood beside her as his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “We found a bigger home across town. Beautiful place, really. Four bedrooms, three baths, perfect for entertaining.” He leaned forward with glinting eyes. “Since you’ve got all that cash saved up, we figured, why not keep it in the family?”
My brain struggled to process their words. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, dear,” Barbara said.
“We know exactly how much you’ve saved. Nathan’s been keeping us informed.” She smiled.
“Have you forgotten that we let you live in our house for that first year after the wedding? You owe us.”
“That’s not enough,” Barbara cut in, furrowing her eyebrows. “Really, Arabella, I thought you were raised better than this. Family helps family.”
“Family doesn’t require money from family,” I countered.
Christian snorted. “Look at her, Barbara. Getting all high and mighty with her sad nurse’s salary. You’d think we were asking for a kidney.”
Using your savings anyway… as if it were a done deal? Yet all I could think of saying was, “Do what?”
His face split into a full-blown smile, like a kid at Christmas. “Buy a motorcycle! One of those really nice Harleys. I’ve always wanted one!”
“A motorcycle,” I repeated flatly.
“Yeah! I mean, it’s perfect timing, right? Mom and Dad get their house, I get my bike, everybody wins!”
“And what do I get?”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “You get to help your family. Isn’t that enough?”
I mean…WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?!
“This is my money,” I finally said.
“Money I earned. Money I saved. For our future home. Not for your new house or Nathan’s toy.”
Nathan’s smile faded. “Come on, Bella. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? Upset that you’re giving away my money without asking me?”
Barbara huffed. “It’s not just your money. You’re married. What’s yours is his.”
“I won’t agree to this,” I said firmly.
I exhaled slowly and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll take care of the transfer myself.”
The tension in the room eased instantly.
“I knew you’d see reason,” Barbara said.
Nathan smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and squeezing. “That’s my girl. You always come through. I’m going to drive my parents back home, okay? See you later.”
They left soon after, already discussing paint colors for their new house and the features on Nathan’s dream motorcycle.
I stood at our apartment window, watching them climb into Nathan’s car, laughing and celebrating their victory.
But I had bought myself time. And time was all I needed.
The next morning, I called in sick to work for the first time in three years.
As soon as the bank opened, I was there, opening a new account in my name.
“That’s a substantial sum to move,” she noted, looking over her glasses at me.
“It’s my life savings,” I replied. “And I need to protect it.”
By noon, every cent had been transferred.
“Let me get this straight,” she said, tapping her pen against her legal pad. “Your husband and his parents were planning to take your savings without your consent?”
“Sort of. Nathan said he would transfer the money ‘whether I like it or not.'”
“So, you’ve moved the money already?”
“Smart move,” she said with a nod. “But I’m going to need all your statements, and let’s talk about what comes next.”
Nathan seemed pleased with himself, occasionally mentioning motorcycle models or asking if I’d made the transfer to his parents’ account yet.
“I’m handling it,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “I think it’s best they get the money for the bike, too. I’ll go with them to buy it, so I can surprise you with it later.”
“Sounds good,” I said and carried on with home chores.
By Friday, Barbara and Christian showed up at our door again, practically giddy with anticipation.
“Well?” Barbara asked, not even bothering with a hello. “Is it done? We’re making the final offer today.”
Nathan put his hand on my shoulder. “The deadline’s here, babe. Did you make the transfer?”
“No, I didn’t.”
They all continued silent for one second.
“What do you mean, you didn’t?” Christian said.
“I mean I didn’t transfer the money, and I’m not going to.”
“Go ahead,” I said, stepping away from him. “Check the account.”
“It’s… empty,” he whispered.
Barbara said: “What have you done with it?”
“I protected it,” I said simply. “From people who think they’re entitled to what I’ve worked for.”
“You can’t do this!” Nathan whispered, his face turning red. “That’s my money too!”
I laughed. “Is it? Show me one transfer or pay stub that shows you contributed to it. One time you skipped buying a video game to put money into our future. One sacrifice you made.”
My father-in-law spotted a finger at me while his face contorted with rage. “You ungrateful little thief! After everything we’ve done for you!”
Nathan took the envelope with one hand and my arm with the other.
“Divorce? Fantastic! I’ll take all the money you owe us then. You know that, right?”
“Try it,” I said, fanning myself with the folder. “With all of this, you’ll end up owing me money.”
With a wrinkled nose, he finally stepped back and opened the envelope with the divorce papers.
He could keep the lease for this apartment and his awful furniture.
“You’re divorcing your husband over money?” Barbara accused.
“No,” I corrected her. “I’m divorcing him because YOU ALL planned to steal from me. I just protected myself, so don’t play the victim. Doesn’t suit you.”
I walked out that door with happy feeling. The spring air hit my face as I packed my suitcase into my car, and I finally took one second to simply enjoy it.
