My Ex Tried to Buy Our Daughter’s Love During the Custody Battle – He Smiled Until She Reached into Her Pocket

That night, back in our tiny house with the peeling paint and the shared bathroom, she stood over the trash can with the receipts.

“You sure?” I asked.

She nodded and dropped them in.

“They’re just paper.

You’re my mom.”

We sat on our sagging couch, sharing microwave popcorn, watching some dumb baking show.

No floor-to-ceiling windows. No valet. No designer anything.

Just my kid leaning against me, sketchbook in her lap, choosing to be there.

I still worry about money.

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