Stacy was raising three children: twin girls, Lily and Leah, and a young son named Ben. She was a petite, soft-featured woman with warm, kind eyes that seemed to hold a world of patience.
Her own father had walked out on her mother when Stacy was only five years old. After moving to the city, they never managed to save enough for a place of their own, drifting from one rental to another. Stacy's father hadn't seen the instability as a problem.
"Once we save up enough, we'll have a house of our own," he used to say.
But it never happened. He traveled constantly for business and was gone for long stretches. When he did return, he showered his wife and daughter with gifts. Then, one day, he left for a trip and never came back. Stacy's mother was consumed by grief. Exactly a year later, she fell deathly ill, and six months after that, she was gone.
"Don't be afraid, honey. We'll raise you right. No one's going to hurt you," her Aunt Val said, taking Stacy in.
And so, Stacy grew up without her parents, knowing firsthand the ache of missing a mother's touch and a father's guidance. Years later, her friend Sarah introduced her to Mark.
"He just got out of the service," Sarah said. "He's handsome, broad-shouldered, and a really nice guy. He just started working with us."
"Don't go turning your nose up yet," Aunt Val—who had become a true mother to her over the years—advised. "Take a good look at him. This might just be your destiny."
As it turned out, she was right. Mark was a good man, polite and intelligent, with a practical outlook on the future.
After a while, they moved into Mark's apartment together. Soon, the twins were born, followed a few years later by little Ben.
"I have the best, biggest, most wonderful family," Mark would often say.
Stacy would only smile nervously and nod. Despite years of living together, Mark had never proposed.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I love you and the kids so much," he'd tell her. "I just can't get married right now. Besides, we're modern people. A marriage license is just a piece of paper; it doesn't change anything."
"Of course it isn't a measure of happiness," she'd reply. "But I'd still like us to be official."
"Just be patient a little longer. I have some things to settle, and it's going to take time and money. Soon, I promise," Mark said as he packed his bags.
He traveled frequently to a neighboring city where his parents lived, staying there whenever he had business to attend to. Working as a freight forwarder, he covered the entire region, often leaving his family behind for his routes. Stacy would sigh heavily and wait.
Time passed, but the proposal never came.
"It's alright, dear. Your mother waited for your father during his long trips, too. It's a woman's lot to wait," Aunt Val said, trying to cheer her up.
"I don't mind his work," Stacy argued. "He brings money home, he's generous, he's a good father, he loves the kids, and he helps around the house. I just don't understand why he won't marry me."
"Who knows? Have you tried talking to him about it?"
"Of course. He either makes a joke of it or says we have to wait. But I'm starting to feel embarrassed in front of people. I don't know what he's waiting for. We have three children."
"Talk to his parents."
"What about them? I've only met them once, and for some reason, they aren't interested in their grandkids. They never visit. They barely call, and only on holidays."
"That's very strange."
"Well, they were against me from the start. They didn't like that I was an orphan with nothing to my name. they wanted a 'high-society' daughter-in-law with her own property. They probably think I'm trying to steal their son's apartment."
"Oh, that's not good, my girl."
"I know. But there's nothing I can do about it right now."
Stacy didn't lose hope. She knew how deeply Mark loved her, so she believed in a better future and tried to stay positive.
Recently, Stacy had started a small home sewing business. She had loved sewing since she was a child, making elaborate outfits for her dolls. Over time, the hobby turned into a small but steady income. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that Stacy's "golden hands" could revive any torn shirt or pair of pants.
"You're getting pretty good at that," Mark laughed as he prepared for another trip. "Who knows, soon you might be making more than me."
"I hope so," Stacy smiled. "Then I'll fire you from your job and hire you as my assistant."
"Yeah, right, in your dreams." Mark hugged and kissed the children, said goodbye to Stacy, got into his car, and drove away.
That morning, she hadn't wanted to let him go. A heavy knot in her chest made it hard to breathe. A dark premonition shadowed her work all day. She tried calling him, but the phone remained stubbornly silent. That evening, exhausted from waiting, Stacy drifted off to sleep by the window. A phone call startled her awake.
"Hello?"
"Stacy? It's Arthur," came the familiar voice of Mark's father.
"Yes, Arthur. I'm listening."
"I don't even know how to start. Stacy, there's been an accident. Mark didn't make it to our place. There was a crash... he didn't survive."
"What?" Stacy went deathly pale. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto a small ottoman near the dresser.
"It's a terrible tragedy. We need you to come here. He would have wanted that."
"I'll be there."
Hanging up, Stacy buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"It can't be. This is a mistake. I don't understand."
An hour later, Stacy called Sarah and told her everything. Sarah promised to drive her in her new car. The children had to stay with Aunt Val, who gave the grieving young woman a motherly embrace as she left.
"I am so sorry. Go. Don't worry about the kids; I'll take care of everything."
When they arrived, Arthur met them.
"I'm so sorry," he said, hugging Stacy.
"Are you just going to stand in the yard? Come inside," called out Mark's mother, Martha.
The house was crowded. Neighbors and relatives had come to support the parents. Stacy knew almost no one there, and it seemed they didn't know she existed either. However, one woman caught her eye—a pretty, shapely blonde with shoulder-length curls who stood out from the crowd.
"Who is that?" Sarah whispered in Stacy's ear. "She's acting a bit too comfortable, don't you think? Like she owns the place."
"I have no idea. But I noticed it too."
Everything became clear when Martha approached the young woman, whispered something, took her hand, and walked over to Stacy.
"Let me introduce you. This is Megan, Mark's wife."
"His wife?" Stacy gasped. "Then who am I? I don't understand."
"I am his legal wife," Megan corrected coldly. "And who exactly are you to my Mark, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I don't even know. Until today, I thought I was his common-law wife," Stacy replied, feeling her legs tremble again.
"Is that so? Well, nice to meet you."
"Not particularly. Excuse us," Sarah said, taking Stacy by the shoulders and leading her outside.
"How? Why? I don't understand any of this!" Stacy cried. She couldn't believe Mark was married and had hidden it from her.
"It happened before he went into the service," Arthur interrupted, joining them outside. "Mark and Megan were close for a while. Then he left for the army, and she promised to wait. Soon after, his mother and I found out she was pregnant. When he got back, we forced him to marry her. A man has to take responsibility for his actions. A son shouldn't grow up without a father."
"But what about me? He met me," Stacy sobbed.
"We knew things weren't serious with Megan. But a child... that's different. Mark was obligated to marry her. But he refused to live with her. He planned to divorce her and marry you. But we were against it. It wasn't right."
"And having three more children in another city with another woman—was that 'right'?" Sarah snapped. Arthur lit a cigarette nervously.
"None of it is right. I don't know why it had to come to this."
"Now I see why my Mark took so long to 'legalize' things," Stacy said, her voice hollow.
"Megan's father is the mayor of this town," Martha said, stepping outside. "Megan is going to help me with everything here, so you can go home. We'll handle the arrangements without you. Thanks for stopping by." Martha turned and went back inside.
"I think we're done here," Sarah said, leading Stacy to the car.
"Stacy, thanks for coming. I think we'll come visit you next week," Arthur called out.
But Stacy didn't look back. She sat in the car in total silence.
"It's bad to speak ill of the dead, but your Mark was a real piece of work," Sarah muttered. "A wife and kids in every town." Stacy began to sob again.
"Wait, honey. I think it's more complicated than that. It's obvious he didn't want to be with her. It wasn't even about the kid. An influential father-in-law... that's a powerful argument."
"Enough. I don't want to hear any more," Stacy whispered.
Upon returning home, she picked up the kids from Aunt Val, hugged them tight, and fell asleep in the children's room.
A week later, true to his word, Mark's father arrived.
"Hello, Stacy."
"Why are you here?"
"I wanted to see my grandkids. I brought some gifts." Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking guilty.
"Come in, since you're already here."
"Look how big they've gotten. The girls are like little princesses. and the boy—he's a sturdy little guy."
"Martha isn't with you?"
"No. She's at home taking care of things. The drive is hard on her."
"I think she just doesn't want to acknowledge me or my girls."
"Don't say that," Arthur said, standing up. "Look, if you need money or any help at all, just ask. We'll help."
"Yes, of course. Thank you. For now, I'm managing on my own."
When Arthur left, Stacy watched him go for a long time.
Another week passed, and Mark's mother appeared at the door, accompanied by Megan.
"To what do I owe the honor? I didn't expect to see you here."
"Hello. Perhaps you'll let us in," Martha said dryly.
"Come in. Are you here to see the kids? Why didn't you come with your husband? He said the drive was too much for you, but you look fine to me."
"Arthur was here? Strange. I didn't know about that. I'll deal with him later. No, dear, I'm not here for the children. I brought Megan to show her the apartment."
"What do you mean? This is Mark's apartment."
"Yes. But it was bought with money from Megan's father. He gave them a very generous cash gift right after the wedding."
"As it turns out, Mark used that money to buy this place," Megan added smugly.
"What is going on?" Stacy was bewildered.
"Haven't you figured it out yet? I am Mark's legal wife. After his death, the apartment belongs to me and my child," Megan explained. "So, I recommend you vacate this illegally occupied space as soon as possible."
"My God! What is happening? Mark was my husband too, even without a stamp in a book! We have children—three of them! You wouldn't throw us out on the street? Where would we go?"
"I don't care. I want you out of here in three or four days," Megan said, walking out.
"Did you hear her? Make sure you and those kids are gone," Martha repeated defiantly.
"How can you not be ashamed? These are your grandchildren too!" Stacy cried.
"Grandchildren? No. Who knows who you went and got these kids from? I have one grandson, and he isn't your son," Martha said, pointing a finger upward for emphasis.
"This is a nightmare," Stacy whispered, unable to believe her ears.
She had always known Martha disliked her, but to refuse to recognize her own flesh and blood? It was unfathomable. Distraught, Stacy called Arthur and told him everything.
"To be honest, I didn't think it would come to this. But don't worry. Lean on me; I'll handle it."
Four days later, Martha and Megan knocked on the door again.
"Well? Are you ready to move out? I brought movers. We'll even help you leave faster," Megan called through the door.
"Yes, yes. Hurry up. Megan and my grandson are ready to move into their home. And you should be grateful we aren't charging you back-rent for all these years," Martha added.
Stacy opened the door. "Come in."
Martha and Megan entered the living room. Arthur was sitting on the sofa. When his wife saw him, her face went pale.
"You? What are you doing here?" Martha asked.
"Didn't expect me, did you? I never thought you'd sink to such a low. Our Mark loved Stacy and those children. These are our grandchildren. We are not throwing them out on the street."
"What are you talking about? Our grandson and daughter-in-law won't be on the street; this is their apartment! These imposters need to be kicked out!"
"What a dark soul you have. I never noticed it before. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you have three grandchildren here, and you're trying to make them homeless." With those words, Arthur held up a document.
"What is that?"
"I might not be the man I once was, but I still have some connections. This document is a DNA report. That child—the one you forced our son to marry for—is not our grandson."
"I don't believe it. It's a fake!"
"It's the original. And Megan herself can confirm it. Right, dear?"
"It doesn't matter," Megan spat. "So my son isn't your grandson, big deal. I am the legal wife. I can claim this apartment by law."
"No, you can't." Arthur handed her another paper. "And this is a will, drawn up and signed by Mark shortly before he died. He loved Stacy and the kids, and he was afraid they'd be left with nothing."
"Quite the twist," Megan said, looking at the paper with curiosity. "But here's what I think of your apartment. This is just a piece of trash. There was no will. It's a bluff." With that, she ripped the paper to shreds.
Arthur began to smile.
"My friends, those were just copies. The originals are in a safe place. If you plan to sue, we will be more than happy to present the originals in court."
"This is ridiculous and disgraceful. Let's get out of here, Martha. I'm not letting this go," Megan said, trying to grab Martha's hand, but Martha pulled away sharply.
"No. I think I'll stay a while. I've come all this way to see the children; I should spend some time with my favorite grandchildren." She forced a bright, fake smile.
Stacy caught Arthur's eye, and they both shared a knowing look. Finally, justice had been served.
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