After my grandfather passed away, my husband Michael unexpectedly served me with divorce papers.
I assumed he had simply fallen out of love—until I saw him weeks later driving a luxury sports car, dressed in designer brands.

It was a sh0cking transformation from the man who used to work long hours as a cashier.

He tossed a $100 bill at me like I was a stranger.

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I nearly walked away—until I noticed a tiny smiley face in the corner.

My heart sank. That was my drawing.

It was from a bundle of money my grandfather once offered me for my future—money I had declined.

I had doodled that smiley during our last conversation, trying to make him smile.

I turned to Grandpa’s close friend, Harrison, who confirmed what I feared most: Grandpa had entrusted the money to Michael, believing he would use it to help me.

Instead, Michael took it—and walked away.

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With Harrison’s support, I reached out to Logan, a sharp and compassionate attorney.

Together, we confronted Michael at his upscale apartment.

Faced with legal consequences, he confessed and agreed to return the money in installments.

A year later, I opened a veterinary clinic in memory of my grandfather.

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Logan came to the grand opening—and, in time, became my husband.

I still carry that smiley-faced $100 bill with me.

It reminds me of the man who loved me unconditionally—and the one who always will.