Some gifts warm the heart. My husband’s Christmas present? It ignited a fire of rage. I spent the next year plotting the perfect revenge, and when he unwrapped his gift, the look on his face was my real Christmas present.
Have you ever received a gift that made your stomach drop and your blood boil at the same time? I’m not talking about an ugly sweater or a fruit cake nobody wants. I mean the kind of present that makes you question if the person who gave it to you knows you at all. Or worse, if they even care. What my husband Murphy did one Christmas had me planning revenge for an entire year.
Presents under a Christmas tree | Source: Unsplash
Money was always tight in our household.
Murphy worked at the metal fabrication plant downtown, pulling double shifts that left his hands calloused and his back aching. He’d come home smelling of metal shavings and machine oil, proud of providing for our family but too tired to notice anything else.
Meanwhile, I cobbled together an income tutoring kids in math and watching the neighbors’ children, which wasn’t much but helped keep food on the table and the lights on. Between mortgage payments and growing teenagers, we pinched every penny until it screamed.
A woman putting a coin in a piggy bank | Source: Pexels
We had a mutual agreement about Christmas: we’d scrape together enough for presents for our girls and our parents, but nothing for each other. It worked for 16 years of our marriage until Murphy decided to change the rules without warning me first.
“Susan! Come here, I got something for you!” Murphy’s voice boomed through our small house one evening, ten days before Christmas.
The excitement in his voice made me drop the math worksheet I was grading for little Tommy, who still couldn’t quite grasp long division.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I wiped my hands on my apron and walked into the living room.
There he stood, grinning like a kid who’d just found the cookie jar, with a massive box wrapped in sparkly paper that must have cost at least $5 a roll.
“What’s this about?” I asked, my heart racing.
The box was huge, nearly reaching my waist, and wrapped with unusual care for a man who typically considered tape and newspaper to be good enough for any package.
A huge gift box near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“It’s your Christmas present! I know we don’t do this usually, but I wanted to do something special this year. Something big!”
“Murphy, we can’t afford—”
“Just wait till Christmas Eve, Sus! You’re gonna love it! I promise you’ve never gotten anything like this before.”
I had no idea how right he was.
A woman sitting on the couch and looking up | Source: Midjourney
Our daughters, Mia and Emma, peeked around the corner with their art supplies, giggling like they used to when they were little, not the teenagers they’d become.
“Dad’s been so secretive about it,” Mia whispered. “He wouldn’t even let us help wrap it!”
“He spent forever in the garage getting it ready, Mom!” Emma added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
That should have been my first warning sign.
Two cheerful teenage girls smiling | Source: Pexels
For the next ten days, that box sat under our Christmas tree, taunting me. Every time I walked past it, I’d try to guess what could be inside.
Maybe Murphy had saved up all year for something special. Maybe he’d noticed me eyeing that velvety quilt in the store window, or remembered me mentioning how much I missed having a nice television set since ours broke last spring.
Sometimes I’d catch him staring at the box with this proud little smile, like he’d solved all the world’s problems with whatever was inside.
A man looking at something | Source: Midjourney
Christmas Eve arrived with a flurry of activity. Our girls were sprawled on the floor by the tree, while Murphy’s parents settled onto our worn couch that had seen better days.
His mother, Eleanor, kept shooting me knowing looks, while his father, Frank, nursed his usual cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey.
The room smelled of cinnamon and pine, thanks to the three cookie-scented candles I’d splurged on at the dollar store. Christmas carols played softly on our old radio. And outside, the neighbors’ lighting display cast multicolored shadows through our windows as I set a tray of brownies on the table.
A woman holding a wooden tray of brownies | Source: Pexels
“Open it, Mom!” Emma squealed. “It’s the biggest present under the tree! Even bigger than the one Dad got for Grandma!”
Murphy nodded encouragingly, his work boots tapping against the carpet in an excited rhythm. “Go ahead, Sus. Show everyone what Santa brought you.”
My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the paper, trying to savor the moment. The girls leaned forward, and I lifted the lid.
My heart stopped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“A vacuum cleaner?” I whispered, staring at the box with its cheerful product photos showing all its “amazing features.”
“Top of the line!” Murphy beamed. “I already tested it in the garage… works like a dream! Gets all the metal shavings right up! Even does the corners!”
The girls exchanged glances before bursting into giggles. Eleanor pressed her lips together so hard they nearly disappeared, while Frank suddenly became very interested in the contents of his coffee mug, probably wishing he’d added more whiskey.
A vacuum cleaner on the floor | Source: Pexels
“Oh, and when you’re done with it in here,” Murphy added, still grinning like he’d just given me the crown jewels, “make sure to put it back in the garage. That’s where it’ll live most of the time. The suction on this baby is perfect for my workspace! No more metal dust anywhere!”
I fled to our bedroom, but Murphy followed, his heavy footsteps echoing behind me like thunder. I burst into tears as soon as he closed the door, the sound of Christmas carols mocking me from downstairs.
“A vacuum cleaner? Seriously? Your first Christmas gift to me in 16 years is a VACUUM CLEANER?”
A shocked woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“What’s wrong with that? It’s practical. Do you know how much these things cost? It’s top of the line!”
“Practical? You bought yourself a garage vacuum and wrapped it up as my Christmas present! You might as well have gift-wrapped a mop and bucket!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Susan. It’s for the whole family—”
“A $5 bracelet would have meant more! Just something that showed you thought of me as your wife and NOT your MAID! Something that said ‘I love you,’ not ‘Here’s another way to clean up after everyone!’”
An angry man frowning | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, jaw clenching like it did when the bills came due.
“You’re acting like a spoiled princess. Remember where you came from. Your folks are farmers! Do they even know what a vacuum cleaner is?! At least I’m thinking about upgrading our home!”
“Get out!” I roared. “GET. OUT.”
“Fine,” he snapped, yanking the door open. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s a good gift! Most wives would be grateful! Because presents are something a family could use, not what you would want.”
An angry woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
That night, I slept on the couch, wrapped in rage and heartache. Through the thin walls, I could hear Murphy telling his parents I was being “selfish” about the whole thing.
Eleanor’s murmured response was too quiet to make out, but Frank’s grunt of disapproval came through clearly.
As I lay there in the dark, watching the neighbors’ Christmas lights dance across our ceiling, a plan began to form in my head. Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, or in this case, wrapped in glittery paper and waiting an entire year.
Christmas lights shining through a window curtain | Source: Unsplash
I smiled into the darkness, already calculating how much I’d need to save from my tutoring money to make it perfect.
The following Christmas, I invited every relative within driving distance. Aunts, uncles, cousins — anyone who might appreciate a good show.
Murphy grumbled about the expense until he spotted his gift under the tree. It was the biggest box of all, wrapped in paper that cost $10 a roll this time.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyes lighting up like a child’s.
“Just a little something special. You do so much for us, honey. I wanted this Christmas to be MEMORABLE!”
A huge gift box against the backdrop of a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“Mom went shopping all by herself,” Mia chimed in. “She wouldn’t even tell us what it is! But she looked so happy when she came home.”
“Cost a pretty penny too,” I added, watching Murphy’s eyes grow wider.
He spent the next few days shaking the box when he thought no one was looking, like a kid trying to guess what Santa brought.
Christmas Eve arrived again. Our living room was packed with family, all eyes on Murphy as he approached his present.
Guests in a room | Source: Pexels
Aunt Martha perched on the armrest of the couch, while Uncle Bill and his three kids crowded around the fireplace.
Even cousin Pete, who never came to family gatherings, had shown up after I hinted there would be some “holiday entertainment.”
“Open it, Dad!” Emma urged, her phone ready to record the moment. “The suspense is killing everyone!”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
The gift wrapper fell away. Murphy’s face went from excitement to confusion to HORROR as he stared at the industrial-sized case of toilet paper in the box.
It was premium four-ply, with “extra soft comfort” plastered across the box in cheerful letters, and “perfect for home AND workshop use!” printed in bold red.
“What is this?” he sputtered, “TOILET PAPER??”
A pile of toilet paper | Source: Unsplash
I stood up, channeling my best game show host voice.
“It’s premium four-ply toilet paper! Because Christmas isn’t about what we want, it’s about what the family needs. Right, honey? And this will be perfect for the bathroom AND your garage! I even got the industrial size, since you love practical gifts so much!”
Our daughters doubled over laughing. Aunt Martha choked on her eggnog. Uncle Bill slapped his knee so hard it echoed, while his kids collapsed in fits of giggles. Cousin Pete actually fell off his chair.
A young man sitting on a chair and laughing | Source: Pexels
“Who gives their husband toilet paper for Christmas?” Murphy’s face turned scarlet as he looked around the room full of amused relatives.
I smiled angelically. “Who gives their wife a vacuum cleaner?”
He stormed upstairs, muttering under his breath, while the family erupted in laughter and approval. Even Eleanor gave me a subtle high-five when no one was looking.
A furious man yelling | Source: Midjourney
“Well played, Susan,” Frank chuckled, raising his coffee mug in salute. “Well played indeed. Maybe next year he’ll think twice about ‘practical’ gifts.”
That was five years ago. Murphy hasn’t mentioned Christmas presents since, and “selfish” has mysteriously disappeared from his vocabulary.
But just in case he ever gets another bright idea about “practical” gifts, I keep a special shelf in the closet, ready for next year’s wrapping paper. Sometimes the best revenge isn’t served cold, it’s served with a bow on top, and maybe some premium four-ply toilet paper to wrap it in.
A roll of toilet paper wrapped in golden satin ribbon | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
After Wife’s Demise, Widower Finds Out They’ve Been Divorced for More than 20 Years – Story of the Day
Wealthy investor Robert, dealing with the aftermath of his wife’s death, stumbles upon a secret divorce agreement and another startling revelation, leading him on a transformative journey toward forgiveness.
Robert sat on his couch, staring blankly at the divorce decree. He was in his up-market beach house, surrounded by memories of Melissa, his wife of 30 years.
Her death had been a blow, but finding this document in her belongings was bewildering. He had no memory of ever divorcing her.
He reflected on the accident he’d had years ago, which caused head trauma and a six-month memory gap for him. Reading the document, he realized that it was during that time he had apparently initiated the divorce. “July twenty years ago,” he muttered, noting the date on the document.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
His life back then was a whirl of socializing with artists and actors, fueled by excessive drinking. Despite the temptations, he remained faithful to Melissa, although his drinking issue strained their marriage.
He eventually picked up the phone and dialed the law firm’s number on the letterhead, only to find they had moved. The receptionist at the other end suggested he Google the new number.
Robert returned to the document and was stunned that Melissa was entitled to half his considerable wealth in the divorce. He had been wealthy even then, with a fortune inherited from his father.
Robert had dabbled as a stockbroker, but for the most part, he paid others to manage and grow his wealth while he lived an easy and high life in New York City.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Not that he’d been irresponsible; he spent his money well and donated large sums to charitable organizations—he left that side of his dealings to his wife to manage, which she did well.
He returned to Melissa’s box of documents and discovered more surprises. Among them was a birth certificate for a child named Tallulah, born three years before their marriage. The child’s last name matched Melissa’s maiden name.
Robert’s heart raced. He had always sensed Melissa had a secret, but this was beyond anything he had imagined. A child he never knew about.
He pondered the situation, troubled. Melissa had fought cancer bravely, but it had spread rapidly, taking her life. Robert, still grieving, now grappled with this new revelation.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He decided to discuss it with his twins, Pete and Sandra. They were close to their mother, especially during her illness, and had returned home for her funeral.
As he sat them down, he explained his discovery. The twins were shocked, unable to comprehend their mother’s secret.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” Sandra asked, visibly upset.
“I don’t know. Maybe she thought it’d hurt us,” Robert replied. “I’m also trying to understand why there’s a divorce document. I don’t recall any of it… due to the accident.”
While scrutinizing the divorce paper, Pete suggested, “You should look up the lawyer listed here on LinkedIn.”
Robert agreed, but they decided to focus on the funeral first.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
In the quiet aftermath of the funeral, Robert summoned the courage to confront the situation. It didn’t take long for him to trace the lawyer who had officiated the divorce; he was with another firm in New York.
The call brought more surprises; Franklin recognized Robert instantly and expressed concern about his well-being.
“Well, yeah, I’m fine,” Robert said, flummoxed that Franklin seemed to know who he was. “So, you know me?”
“Of course I do. It was a chaotic time, what with your accident. How’s Melissa?”
“Melissa passed away about a week ago.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. How can I help?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Uh, I found some documents that I’m quite concerned about. A divorce decree and a birth certificate for a child.”
There was complete silence on the other end of the line. “I handled the divorce, Robert. It was an open-and-shut case. You don’t remember it?”
“I don’t. Melissa and I were happily married for thirty years.”
“You never left her?”
“I never left her, Franklin. Do you have records of the divorce and Melissa’s will?”
“We have everything on file. How about coming to New York to figure this out? It’s serious.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Robert agreed and flew to New York. In Franklin’s office, they discussed Robert’s past and Melissa’s recent will change.
“Do you remember anything about the accident, the fall?”
“No, just what Melissa told me. I fell from the balcony during an argument about my drinking.”
“Did Melissa tell you anything else about that night?”
“You mean later on when I recovered? No, we didn’t speak about it much,” Robert replied. “She moved us to California. She found the best head trauma specialist in the country out there to help with my recovery. I was in good hands.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“So, you never saw any media coverage at the time?” Franklin asked.
“Melissa thought it best I stay away from that completely. She wanted a fresh start away from that life. I agreed. I think it was the best thing to do.”
“Robert, this might be hard to hear. Were you aware of the life insurance policy in Melissa’s name?”
“I’d forgotten about that. We bought it soon after we were married,” Robert mused. “She would’ve been the sole beneficiary at the time of the accident. Hang on, are you saying—”
“I’m not saying anything, Rob, please. The media speculated Melissa had something to do with your fall,” Franklin revealed. “But well, you survived, and she never cashed the policy. By the way, she changed her will at the time of your accident.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Does the name of the beneficiary mean anything to you?” Franklin asked, sliding a sheaf of papers across to Robert.
“Tallulah J—,” he said. “Yes. Remember the birth certificate I said I found in Melissa’s personal effects? Same name.”
Robert reached into the leather shoulder bag he’d brought, found the birth certificate, and handed it over to the lawyer.
“The plot thickens,” Franklin said, looking the document over. “Along with the will, there’s a sealed letter from Melissa addressed to you with instructions to be read only in the event of her death. Are you ready for it?”
Robert nodded. “Let me see it,” he said.
Franklin handed over the envelope. “I’m going to visit the bathroom,” he said. “Please take your time.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Robert opened the letter and read:
“My Dearest Robert,
I’m sorry for keeping such a big secret. When I fell pregnant with Tallulah, I was scared. I thought you’d leave me, so I kept it a secret until your private investigator found out.
I had Tallulah adopted, and I never told anyone else about her. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I’ve missed her every day. And yes, no matter what anyone says about that night, I had nothing to do with the fall. It was an accident.
I’m so sorry for everything. I hope you can at least try to understand.
Love,
Mel”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“In her will, Franklin, she left her entire estate to Tallulah?” Robert asked as the lawyer returned.
Franklin nodded. “She tied all the assets up in a trust account that pays out to her daughter in the event of Melissa’s death.”
“That money is mine,” Robert declared. “Can we challenge the will in court? Can the divorce be rescinded?”
Franklin explained the challenges but agreed. “I think we can make a case.”
“How much money are we talking about here?” Robert inquired.
“You mean, how much will it cost to contest the will and annul the divorce?” Franklin clarified.
“No, how much money was my wife worth when she died?” Robert asked.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Nearly half a billion dollars,” Franklin revealed.
“And it all goes to her daughter Tallulah now?”
“That’s right,” Franklin confirmed. “Unless we sue the estate for what she did to you, hiding all this.”
“In that folder you have there, are there any contact details for Tallulah?” Robert asked.
“There’s a last known address. Looks like a business address.”
“Write down that address for me, please, Frank,” Robert said.
Franklin provided an address in Los Angeles. Determined, Robert visited the given location, a rundown studio, and encountered a gruff man.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“I’m looking for a woman,” Robert began.
The man scoffed. “Join the club. Aren’t we all?”
“She’s around 33. This is the address given as her workplace,” Robert said, ignoring the man’s joke.
“Let’s see, that could be any one of, I dunno, a hundred women in the last year alone. I can’t help you, brah. Best you shove off. Are you a lawyer or somethin’?”
“No, this is a personal matter. I’m looking for my wife’s daughter.”
“Another one looking for a long-lost daughter,” the man mocked.
“What do you do here?” Robert asked. “Is this an adult film studio?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Got that right, genius. Now are you going to piss off, or do I have to throw you out?”
“There’s no need for that. I’m here to give this woman some news about her mother; she died,” Robert said. “Her name is Tallulah.”
Robert offered him a $1000 reward if he told her about Tallulah. The man agreed after seeing the money.
“Her stage name is Tulip Jones, or sometimes, she goes by TJ. Try Melrose Productions a couple of blocks over,” the man disclosed. “And don’t tell her I told you where to find her. She’s not exactly in our good books around here. Ran out on us a year ago.”
Robert gave him the money and left.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Despite a somewhat warm reception at Melrose Productions, Robert was directed to contact her through a provided cell phone number. He wasn’t sure if she’d answer his calls, so he left her a message. Finally, they spoke over text and agreed to meet.
As they sat across from each other, Robert divulged the truth about Melissa, the inheritance, and his desire to guide Tallulah through managing the substantial sum.
“Why should I trust you to handle my money?”
“I’ve made it my business to manage money; believe me, it’s not as easy as you think,” Robert assured her.
Their conversation shifted to personal matters. Tallulah revealed her disdain for the adult film industry and her desire to escape it. She’d been forced into it by her foster mother.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Trust me, from this day on, you don’t have to do it ever again. I can promise you that,” Robert assured her, handing her his business card.
She looked up at him with a hint of surprise and hope after she’d skimmed the details on the card. “You’re a producer?” she asked.
“Executive producer,” Robert said. “I can show you how to get into it if you like. You’ll be in a good place with your inheritance money as long as you don’t gamble it all on one film. It’s a tough business.”
“I could go for that,” Tallulah said thoughtfully. “The proper film business, I mean. Not gambling.”
“How about meeting my kids, too? Twins: a boy and a girl. Twenty-two. Good kids. One’s at film school, and one’s studying business. Good combination.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Tallulah agreed, and a few days later, she finally met Sandra and Pete at Robert’s Santa Monica office. As small talk flowed, Robert proposed a trip to New York to handle Tallulah’s inheritance.
With plans unfolding, Tallulah hesitantly shared her desire to use part of the inheritance to establish an organization to help women leave the adult film industry. And they all decided to name it after Melissa.
“I’d be happy to draw up a business plan,” Pete offered.
Under Robert’s guidance, the organization named Melissa’s Hope thrived. Tallulah became an advocate for trafficked women and children. The siblings bonded, creating a close-knit family.
Robert remained grateful for everything he had been given in life. He took every opportunity to give to others and help them as best he could. And above all, he remained grateful for the lesson in love his late wife had given him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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