Single Mother of 3 Shows up for the Reading of Her Late Husband’s Will Only to Find Out the Lawyer Was His Mistress

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Megan appeared to hear her late husband’s will, expecting closure—not betrayal.

But when the polished young lawyer read his final words, Megan understood the unimaginable: everything had been left to her.

Not to his wife—but to his mistress. And that was just the beginning.

In the back seat, Eli and Noah were wrestling over a crumpled snack wrapper.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Lily, their sister, tried to keep the peace, her small voice trying to sound like a grown-up’s.

“You’re acting like babies.”

“Boys, please,” Megan said.

“Just… stop for five minutes, okay?

Please.”

The car became quite.

Being a single mom was never easy. Megan had learned to juggle lunches, laundry, late-night fevers, and broken toys. But today, she is free.

Two weeks ago, Tom, her husband, the kids’ dad, the one person who used to balance her out, had passed away.

The kids still laughed, argued, and played like always.

They didn’t fully understand what had happened.

But Megan did.

She dropped them off at school. Noah ran ahead. Lily skipped, her ponytail bouncing.

But Eli—Eli lingered.

He stepped out of the car slowly, backpack dragging behind him. Megan saw the sadness in his eyes, the weight he was trying to hide.

“Hey,” she said gently.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked down.

“We’ll get through whatever comes.

I promise.” She said.

He nodded, slow and unsure, and turned toward the school doors.

Megan got back into the car. The silence now felt louder than the chaos before.

Something slipped out and fluttered into her lap.

It was a photo—an old Polaroid, edges curled slightly with time. It was her and Tom, laughing on a beach somewhere.

Their hair messy from the wind, cheeks sun-kissed, arms wrapped around each other like nothing could break them.

Her breath caught.

The law office was too clean, too quiet.

A woman in a navy suit stood to welcome her. She was tall and polished, her makeup perfect, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat twist.

“You must be Megan,” she said. “I’m Jennifer Green, Tom’s attorney.”

Megan blinked.

The name meant nothing to her. “You were his lawyer?” she asked, her voice flat with disbelief.

Jennifer nodded and handed her a clipboard. “Yes.

I’ll be reading Tom’s final will.”

“Let’s just get this over with. I’ve got three kids and too many things to handle.”

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