When Megan was just a heartbroken 10-year-old, I made her a promise — that I’d buy her wedding dress one day. After her parents’ tragic death, I stepped in as a guardian, doing everything I could to give her a sense of safety and love. Years passed, and she became a strong young woman, eventually starting a family with her boyfriend, Tyler. When she finally announced they were getting married, she reminded me of my old promise — and I was ready to keep it.

But my enthusiasm faded quickly when she showed me bridal gowns costing up to $7,500. I gently explained that while I’d love to help, my budget was $1,500 — enough to find a beautiful dress without going overboard. Megan was clearly disappointed, but I thought we had reached an understanding. Then, a few days later, I overheard her talking to Tyler on the phone — unaware I was nearby in the garage.

What I heard left me stunned: Megan planned to lie to me, buy the dress with my money, and sell it to pay for Tyler’s car repairs. She had already spent her parents’ trust fund without telling anyone. The betrayal hit hard — not just the scheme, but the way she casually discussed using me. I confronted her immediately, and though she tried to deny it, the truth was obvious. I told her I couldn’t support the wedding anymore.

Eventually, they got married at the courthouse without inviting me. The sadness cut deeper than the anger. I had raised her like my own child, and now, she was practically a stranger. I don’t regret loving her — but I’ve learned that love doesn’t mean letting yourself be used. Some promises are made from the heart, but trust must be earned… and once it’s broken, it’s hard to get back.