When I opened the door, Lauren stood there—polished, expensive, and unrecognizable. She stepped inside without permission, mocked our home, and insulted my daughters within minutes.

When I told Emma and Clara who she was, the room fell silent.

Lauren put on a fake smile and laid two garment bags and a thick envelope of cash on the couch.

“These are designer gowns,” she said. “And enough money to change your lives.”

Then she revealed the condition.

The girls had to publicly denounce me as a failed father and choose her instead—signing a contract that erased eighteen years of love in exchange for money and status.

I read the document aloud, my hands shaking.

Emma picked up the envelope, paused, then said calmly, “Yes, this is a lot of money.”

My heart cracked.

“But we’ve never needed it,” she continued. “We already have everything that matters.”

Clara stood beside her. “We had a father who stayed. Who loved us when things were hard.”

Emma tore the envelope open and threw the bills into the air.
“We’re not for sale.”

Lauren lost control. She screamed about her fame, her sacrifices, her career. But every word only exposed the truth.

“You didn’t leave to build a future for us,” Clara said coldly. “You left because you were selfish.”

Clara opened the door. “Please leave.”

Lauren gathered her money and bags and stormed out.

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