When my husband Ryan died in a sudden car accident, I thought I’d already endured the worst pain of my life. But two days after his funeral, his mother, Margaret, proved me wrong. We returned from getting ice cream to find our belongings in trash bags on the curb. Margaret had changed the locks and coldly told me, “This was my son’s house. You and your brats don’t belong here.” That night, my kids and I slept in the car.

Heartbroken and furious, I called Ryan’s lawyer the next morning. To my shock, Ryan had updated his will months before. He left me and the kids everything the house, his savings, even his investments. Margaret was promised $200,000, but only if she didn’t try to interfere. By throwing us out, she’d forfeited it all.

In court, the judge ordered Margaret to return the house immediately. That evening, the kids and I watched her belongings sit in black trash bags on the curb, the same way she had treated ours. She screamed that I’d turned her son against her, but the truth was, Ryan had always known she might do this and he’d made sure we’d be safe.

That night, I tucked my children into their own beds again. For the first time since the funeral, I felt Ryan’s love surround us. Margaret thought she’d taken everything, but in the end, she lost it all and we gained the peace Ryan wanted for us.