What a joke. I smiled coldly. “Fine.
Let’s have dinner. You, me, Josh, and Kelsey. I’ll bring a check.”
David grinned, reaching for me.
I stepped back. Oh, they thought they had me cornered? They had no idea what was coming.
The Dinner That Changed Everything
That Friday, David set the table like we were hosting royalty. Josh and Kelsey arrived late, strutting in like they owned the place. Josh had grown into a sharper, colder version of David.
“This is so nice!” Kelsey chirped, though her eyes were scanning our house for dollar signs. *”Josh has told me *so* much about you.”*
Doubtful. Dinner was awkward until Kelsey started gushing about wedding plans—floral arches, custom menus, a beachfront venue.
“We’re looking at around $75,000,” she said, like it was nothing. I wiped my mouth and stood. “I have something for you.”
I walked to my office, past the watercolors Josh had mocked, past the photos where I was always an outsider.
When I returned, I dropped a folder on the table. “What’s this?” Josh scowled. “A contract,” I said.
“There’s a check inside—more than enough for your wedding. But first, read the terms.”
Josh snatched it up. His face darkened as he read.
“In exchange for this money,” I said calmly, “you will acknowledge me as your mother. I will be at every family event—your wedding, holidays, everything. You’ll call me Mom.
And you’ll treat me with respect.”
Silence. Kelsey gasped. “This is insane!”
But Josh didn’t push it away.
He stared at the check. Then—he grabbed a pen. He signed with a furious scribble and glared at me.
“Happy now?”
I smiled. *”Very. Because you just proved I *could* buy my way into being your mom.
I just had to find the right price.”*
His face went red. I picked up the contract—and tossed it into the fireplace. The flames swallowed the paper, the check turning to ash.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Josh roared. From under a decorative bowl, I pulled out another envelope. I slid it to David.
“Divorce papers,” I said. “Turns out, I’ve been reconsidering our marriage too.”
David’s jaw dropped. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be part of a family where my only worth is as an ATM.”
I turned and walked away—past the fancy dishes, past the years of rejection, past the people who never saw me as anything but a wallet.
At the door, I glanced back. “Good luck with the wedding,” I said. “Hope you find someone else willing to pay for your love.”
Some things can’t be bought.
But the people who try to sell them? They show you exactly who they really are.
