He Refused to Marry Me—Until He Heard About My Inheritance, So I Taught Him a Lesson

My Boyfriend of 2 Years Didn’t Want to Get Married Until He Learned I Was Inheriting a Three-Bedroom Apartment — So I Played Along

Before we moved in together, Patrick would often tell me that we needed more time. More time before getting married. More time before committing to anything. But the moment I inherited an apartment that was paid for in full? He was unable to wait any longer. I realized then that I had never been his first choice.

I saw my friends fall in love, get engaged, and begin their lives with somebody who loved them for years. Even though I didn’t own a cat, I was the one who was constantly taking the lead, getting asked to snap adorable pictures of couples, and making jokes about how I would probably become a crazy cat lady.

So I thought, at last, when Patrick saw me at a bar two years ago. It’s my turn.

I fell for his easy charm as he gazed at me as if I were the most fascinating person in the room. Hard.

I overlooked the small things for two years. He never truly provided anything, including time, effort, or presents. He still lived with his mother and had no intention of moving out. The way he sidestepped every discussion about marriage or living together.

He always commented, “We don’t know each other well enough yet,” usually as he browsed through his phone.

Two years of dating. He was still unsure, though.

I convinced myself that love was about patience and that commitment would come when I absorbed the hurt.

Then something occurred.

Then everything was different.

My aunt passed away last month. It was abrupt and unanticipated. She was my mom’s older sister, and even as an adult, she never forgot my birthday or sent me care gifts at random. It was like losing a piece of home when I lost her.

Then the shock hit.

She left me her whole three-bedroom apartment and had no spouse or children.

It was a bittersweet experience. I would have done anything to regain her. However, this? This was a transformative inheritance. Rent is no longer due. Put an end to worrying over growing expenses. A house that was mine.

I told Patrick the news, of course.

And you know what?

When he arrived at my door that very evening, he brought flowers—his first ever—a bottle of wine—cheap, but still—and—most startling of all—a ring.

He was standing clumsily on my little welcome mat, holding out a small velvet box, as I opened the door.

“Babe,” he exhaled, grinning effortlessly. “I was at my breaking point. Will you wed me?

I looked, unsure of how to react.

I had made a passing reference to engagement two weeks prior. His answer?

“Rings are really pricey right now, baby. Let’s take our time.

Now, though? Was he ready now?

I forced myself to seem shocked and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Patrick… I—I am at a loss for words.”

He encouraged, “Say yes,” with bright eyes. “Baby, we’ve been dating for two years. The time has come. Together, let’s construct our future.

Construct. Correct. I have anything worth constructing now. I ought to have returned the ring to him. ought to have confronted him.

But rather? I forced myself to smile as broadly and extravagantly as I could. I had the kind of smile that would convince anyone that I was the happiest woman in the planet.

“Yes! I’ll wed you. I let out a gasp.

With a sigh of relief, Patrick put the inexpensive little ring on my finger as if he had won the lottery. which he believed he had, in a sense.

With a slightly too-tight squeeze, he drew me into an embrace. He said, “You won’t regret this, babe,” against my hair. “We’re gonna be so happy.”

It nearly made me chuckle. Rather, I withdrew, separating us with a single finger. “But—”

His expression stiffened. “But…?”

I gave him my sweetest yet most serious glance as I cocked my head. “I have one condition.”

He relaxed his tight shoulders. “Oh, babe, whatever it is, consider it done.”

I inhaled deeply before revealing the truth.

“From now on, you will always follow one rule of mine.” I stopped long enough for him to lean in a little, looking interested. “I’ll always be the first to enter the flat. Never. No exclusions.

For a brief moment, his smile wavered.

He knitted his brows. “Uh… what?” He laughed nervously, as if I had just told him that he would never be able to play video games again. “Why?”

Calmly, “It’s just a personal thing,” I stated. “If we’re gonna be married, you should respect it.”

Patrick paused, opening and closing his mouth as though he was trying to find the ideal point of contention. He smirked and nodded at me, however, as if he had already won the big prize, a life without paying rent.

“Yes, darling. Yes. Anything you desire.

Patrick changed into the ideal fiancé for weeks.

I used to be just a babe, or worse, a man when he wasn’t paying attention, so it was humorous when he started calling me his queen.

For the first time ever, he prepared dinner for me. That is, if you consider boiling pasta and then covering it with a jar of sauce to be “cooking.” But like a five-star chef, I thanked him with a smile.

He began jokingly talking about our future together in the apartment.

“Babe, I was thinking we should get a huge flat-screen for the living room.” Alternatively, “This gaming chair was on sale.” might appear ill in our workplace.

He was becoming too comfy and sliding. Overconfident. However, I didn’t believe any of it. For what reason is that lovely smile there? He was waiting, and I knew it.

Awaiting the moment when I could claim the place as my own.

And indeed? The day arrived.

At last, my name was attached to the dwelling. I didn’t immediately inform Patrick, though. Then one day I unexpectedly left work early and headed home.

And you know what I entered?

Patrick. within the flat. along with his mom. The living room is being measured.

I clutched my luggage tightly as I stood motionless in the doorway.

His mother, who seldom acknowledged my presence and had never given a thought to our connection, was now pointing to the windows.

“I think sheer curtains would brighten up the space,” she thought.

Captured mid-measurement, Patrick turned and said, “Oh! Love! You arrive home early. He dropped the tape measure as if it were burning him as he stumbled.

I arched an eyebrow, crossed my arms, and carefully put my luggage down. “Yeah,” I replied calmly as I looked at them. “And I see you broke the one rule I gave you.”

Quiet.

Patrick took a deep breath. “Babe, I—”

However, his mother—bless her conceited little heart—sniffed and waved a dismissive hand before he could even try to make an excuse.

“Well, dear, now that Patrick is your fiancé, it’s his home too!”

I lost it at that point.

I chuckled directly at them.

Patrick recoiled as his mother’s lips formed a hard, disapproving line. The atmosphere became dense with tension.

“Oh, you thought we were actually getting married?” I wiped an artificial tear from my eye and asked, shaking my head. “That’s cute.”

Patrick’s horrified eyes grew wide. “W-What? Of course, babe—”

“No, no, no,” I said, interrupting with a hand. “To be clear, I understood why you made the proposal. You always wanted the apartment, not me.

With a scream of shock, his mother clutched her chest as if I had just smacked her. “How dare you accuse my son—”

“No, how dare you two plan to move into my apartment while I was at work!” I shot back, my voice like a whip slicing through the room.

Now that he was perspiring, Patrick held up his palms as though to diffuse the tension. “Babe, please, I just—”

“Cease. Simply stop.

I could see his well-planned act was falling apart as his face contorted, torn between panic and rage.

I wasn’t finished, though.

“Let’s talk about what’s really going on here, Patrick,” I remarked, folding my arms. It took you two years to be prepared to pop the question. But when I get an apartment that’s paid for in full? All of a sudden, you’re kneeling?

Patrick blinked quickly as he fumbled for a reason. “That’s not—I just realized how much I love you, babe!”

I gave a harsh chuckle. “Oh, really? So tell me, when did you’realize’ that? Before or after you and your mother began organizing her furniture placement?”

With a sneer, his mother stepped forward to speak to her subjects like a queen. “You are acting really ungrateful, young woman. You’re acting like a gold digger, and my kid is giving you his last name!”

Quiet.

Then Patrick lost his temper.

“All right! Are you curious about the truth? He raised his hands. “Yes! Since you’re not the type of lady that guys fight for, I wasn’t prepared to marry you before.”

Oh no.

He wasn’t done, though.

“You need to feel grateful that someone like me gave you the opportunity! Janet, you weren’t going to perform much better.”

I inhaled deeply. “Patrick, you’re correct. I might not perform much better.

His expression brightened as he assumed I was giving in. His mother grinned, obviously thinking they had won.

I then dug into my bag, took out a stack of documents that were carefully arranged, and threw them onto the kitchen counter.

“Good thing I won’t have to find out,” I remarked irreverently. “Because, as of this morning, I sold the apartment.”

His mouth fell open.

“You WHAT?!” Patrick let out a cry and sprang at the papers, as though he could reverse the previous action.

“You heard me,” I smiled and replied. “This morning, I signed the documents. I already have the money in my account.

Patrick appeared on the verge of fainting. He had nothing to say for the first time since I’d known him, and his face went white.

“You—you’re lying,” he said in a low voice.

I gave a shrug. “Give the realtor a call. Inquire.

His mother grasped his arm in utter despair as he staggered backward, his eyes flying frantically to her.

“Mom, what do we do?!”

And that? The last nail in the coffin was that.

I turned around, went to the door, and picked up my purse.

“Patrick, you’re correct. There was nothing better I could do. But I’m lucky. I gave him the biggest, happiest smile I had ever had.

“I just did.”

I then gestured toward the door. “Now, get the hell out of this house.”

I was surprised by how quickly the apartment sold. The money was in my account, the paperwork was completed, and I was gone in a week. I started over after relocating to a new city and securing a comfortable small flat on my own terms. Don’t be a freeloader. No boyfriends that are manipulative. Me, living my life as I had earned it.

Naturally, Patrick went crazy.

He kept calling, pleading to “work things out.” His vows were that he “never meant to hurt me” and that we could “start over.”

blocked.

His mother called me a “heartless little witch” in a three-minute message, accusing me of “ruining her son’s future.”

obstructed as well.

Later, I learned from a mutual friend that Patrick had no funds, no contingency plan, and, shockingly, was still living with his mother.

And me?

I had never more happier than I was in my new apartment, enjoying a glass of wine on my balcony.

I wasn’t settling for the first time in my life.