As I was cleaning the house, I finally got to vacuuming under my daughter’s bed. To be honest, it had been a while since I did that. I got on my knees to pull out the boxes from under her bed, and I gasped. There was a stack of money—five and twenty-dollar bills. Altogether, it had to be over several hundred dollars.
I stared at the money, my mind racing. Why would my daughter have so much cash hidden away? The worry gnawed at me as I waited for her to come home from school. When she finally walked through the door, I called her into the living room.
“Sarah, can you come here for a minute?” I tried to keep my voice calm.
She came in, her face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded when she saw the money in my hand. Her eyes widened, and she froze.
“Where did this money come from?” I asked, trying to sound gentle but firm.
“Mommy, no! Put it back!” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I need it for Daddy!”
My heart sank. My ex-husband, despite being wealthy, was not a kind man. He was manipulative and had a history of using people, even our daughter. Why in the world would he ask our kid for money?
“Why, Sarah? Did Daddy tell you why he needs it?” I asked, kneeling down to her level, trying to understand.
She looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. “He said that I need to pay him if I want to see him again,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
I felt a rush of anger and sadness. How could he manipulate her like this? “Sarah, you don’t need to give Daddy any money to see him. That’s not right, and it’s not fair to you.”
“But he said…” she started, but I pulled her into a hug, trying to soothe her.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” I said gently, stroking her hair. “Daddy should never make you feel like you have to pay to see him. That’s not how love works. We’ll talk to him together and make sure he understands this.”
The next day, I called my ex-husband and arranged a meeting. We met at a neutral location, and I brought up the issue right away.
“Why are you asking Sarah for money?” I demanded, my voice steady but filled with anger.
He looked taken aback. “I didn’t ask her for money. She offered it.”
“She said you told her she needed to pay you to see you again,” I countered, watching his reaction closely.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I might have said something like that, but I didn’t mean it that way. I was just frustrated.”
“Frustrated or not, you cannot manipulate our daughter like this,” I said firmly. “She’s a child, and she shouldn’t feel responsible for this. If you want to see her, we can arrange proper visitation, but this has to stop.”
He nodded, looking remorseful. “I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her and make things right.”
When we got home, I explained to Sarah that she didn’t need to worry about the money anymore. Her father and I had talked, and everything was going to be okay.
“Thank you, Mommy,” she said, hugging me tightly. “I was so scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” I assured her. “We’ll make sure things get better from now on.”
As I tucked her into bed that night, I felt a sense of relief. It wasn’t just the money that had been found and dealt with; it was the beginning of restoring trust and ensuring that my daughter would never feel pressured like that again. Together, we’d overcome this, one step at a time.