I thought he’d just stopped loving me—until I spotted him weeks later behind the wheel of a luxury sports car, decked out in designer clothes. It was a stark contrast to the man who once worked long shifts as a cashier.
He threw a $100 bill at me like I was a stranger. I almost walked away—until I saw a tiny smiley face doodled in the corner.
My heart dropped. That was my drawing.
It came from money my grandfather had once offered me for the future—money I had refused.
I’d drawn that smiley during our last talk, hoping to lift his spirits. When I asked Grandpa’s close friend, Harrison, he confirmed my worst fear: Grandpa had given the money to Michael, trusting he’d use it to support me.
Instead, Michael took it and disappeared.
With Harrison’s help, I contacted Logan, a smart and kind attorney. Together, we confronted Michael at his fancy apartment.
Cornered by the law, he admitted everything and agreed to repay the money in installments.
A year later, I opened a veterinary clinic in my grandfather’s honor. Logan came to the opening—and eventually became my husband.
I still keep that smiley-faced $100 bill as a reminder of the man who loved me truly—and the one who always will.
