Abbie’s Stand: Love or Money?
The air was thick with tension as I sat across from my fiancé’s parents in their mansion, where even the rugs cost more than most people’s cars. Crystal chandeliers glittered above us, casting shadows over oil paintings of their stiff-lipped ancestors.
I, Abbie, 27, make $170,000 a year doing a job I love. My fiancé, Tim, teaches third grade—not because he needs to (his trust fund could buy a small island), but because he genuinely loves kids. His parents? Old money. The kind that whispers behind closed doors about “proper roles” and “family reputation.”
And last Friday, over a dinner that was supposed to be about wedding plans, they dropped the bomb.
“You’ll Quit Your Job After the Wedding.”
Michelle, Tim’s mother, sipped her wine with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Abbie, darling, we’ve been meaning to discuss your… situation.”
I set down my fork. “My situation?”
Arnold, Tim’s father, adjusted his gold cufflinks. “Your career. After the wedding, you’ll stay home. It’s what’s expected.”
I laughed. “Excuse me?”
Tim kept his eyes on his plate, pushing food around like a kid avoiding broccoli.
Michelle leaned in. “A man should provide for his family. You earning more than Tim… well, it creates an imbalance.”
My blood turned to ice. “An imbalance?”
Arnold cut in. “It’s emasculating. People talk.”
I stared at Tim. “Are you hearing this?”
He finally looked up, cheeks flushed. “They have a point, Abbie. Maybe you could take a break… focus on other things.”
“Like what? Knitting? Hosting your mom’s charity luncheons?”
Michelle’s smile tightened. “Or starting a family, naturally.”
I stood so fast my chair screeched. “Let me get this straight. You want me to give up my career because it hurts your son’s ego?”
Arnold’s face turned red. “There’s no need for hysterics!”
“Hysterics?!” I shot back. “I built my career from nothing while your son finger-painted with eight-year-olds!”
Tim winced. “Abbie, please—”
“No. You don’t get to sit there silently while your parents treat me like a problem to be fixed.”
My Ultimatum
The room went dead silent.
“Fine,” I said, sitting back down. “I’ll quit. On one condition.“
Arnold scoffed. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”
“Oh, but I am.” I locked eyes with him. “Set up an irrevocable trust. Match my salary—$170,000 a year—for the next 35 years. Adjusted for inflation. That’s over five million dollars.”
Michelle’s wine glass froze mid-air. “Excuse me?“
“You want me to walk away from my future earnings? Then guarantee my financial security.”
Arnold sputtered. “That’s outrageous!”
“Is it? Or is it just expensive?” I leaned in. “You want a perfect little housewife? Pay for her.”
Michelle hissed, “Marriage isn’t a business transaction!”
I laughed. “Then why are you treating it like one?”
The Truth Comes Out
Tim finally spoke. “Abbie, this is too much.”
“Too much?” I turned to him. “Your parents want me to bet everything on this marriage with zero safety net. What happens if we divorce? Do I just starve?”
Arnold crossed his arms. “Our money is family money. Not for outsiders.”
I smirked. “Ah. So even as your daughter-in-law, I’d still be an outsider.”
Tim looked sick. “That’s not what he means—”
“It’s exactly what he means.” I grabbed my purse. “You want a wife who’ll obey? Buy a dog.”
The Walkout
Michelle’s voice turned icy. “If you walk out that door, don’t expect to be welcomed back.”
I didn’t even turn around. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Tim just… stood there. Frozen.
Three days later, he still hasn’t called. No apologies. No promises. Just silence.
Maybe I should be heartbroken. But honestly?
I’m free.
And if Tim’s family wants a submissive little trophy wife?
They can find themselves a goat.
As for me? I’ve got a career to crush, money to make, and a life to live—on my own damn terms. 💥