He Married His Mistress… But Left Everything to Me (3 of 3)

I read the letter twice, three times, the tears falling silently. I wasn’t sure what stunned me more—his regrets or the twisted loyalty buried beneath them.

I felt like I was living someone else’s story.

Accepting his inheritance felt wrong… and yet, refusing it somehow felt worse. This was his final act—one last choice, made in silence.

I didn’t go to the funeral. I couldn’t. But I did visit his grave.

I stood there for a long time. No flowers. No speech. Just me, whispering a quiet goodbye.

“Thank you,” I said. “For what we had… and for what we didn’t.”

I still don’t know if I made the right decision. Taking the estate changed nothing about our past, and yet it’s forever tied me to a man I once loved—and lost. I carry that choice with me every day, not for what it gives me now, but for what it reminds me of: that love, regret, and legacy are never simple things.