It was like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I could barely speak, barely think. Chris, who had been listening in, immediately took the phone from me, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.
“Mrs. Johnson, there has to be another way,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve put so much into this place. It’s our home.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Johnson replied, sounding genuinely sorry, “but Lisa’s family. She’s all I have left, and she’s in such a desperate situation… I can’t turn her away.”
What could we do? She’d made up her mind, and no amount of pleading was going to change that.
The next few weeks were a blur of packing boxes, canceled subscriptions, and trying not to break down every time I walked past a spot we’d lovingly restored.
The hardest part was leaving behind the memories we’d woven into every inch of that apartment—the late-night painting sessions, the laughter, the quiet moments of contentment.
Our new place was… well, it was a roof over our heads, and that was about all I could say for it.
It was smaller, darker, and lacked any of the charm that had made our old apartment so special. But Chris and I did what we always did—we made the best of it. We hung our pictures, arranged our furniture, and tried to pretend that everything was okay.
It wasn’t.
A few weeks after the move, I ran into Mrs. Patterson, one of our old neighbors, at the grocery store. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling.
“Lisa’s been telling everyone how thrilled she is with the renovations in your old place. Said it was like moving into a brand-new apartment!”
My blood ran cold. Thrilled with the renovations? Wasn’t she supposed to be too distraught to care? Something didn’t add up, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, replaying every conversation, every detail. There had to be more to this story, and I was determined to find out what it was.
Over the next few days, I started digging. I talked to a few other neighbors, asked some subtle questions, and pieced together a picture that made my blood boil.
Lisa hadn’t lost her job or her apartment. She’d manipulated Mrs. Johnson, using her sister’s kindness to get her hands on our beautifully renovated space. She hadn’t lifted a finger, but she’d swooped in and stolen the fruits of our hard work.
When I confronted Chris with what I’d found, he was furious—just as I’d expected.
We’d been used, betrayed by people we thought we could trust. Everything we’d built, everything we’d cherished, had been taken from us in the most underhanded way possible.
As we sat in our new, unremarkable living room, the weight of it all pressed down on us like a suffocating blanket. We were angry, yes, but more than that, we were heartbroken.
And it only got worse.
You ever hear something so downright ridiculous, that you just have to laugh? That was me and Chris when we first heard what Lisa had done to our old place.
I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried. But there it was, delivered straight to us by the neighborhood’s most reliable source of gossip—Mrs. Thompson, who, bless her heart, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.
We were at the grocery store, of all places, when we ran into her.
“Judith! Chris!” she said, her voice tinged with that mix of excitement and pity that only someone like her could pull off. “You’ll never believe what Lisa’s done with your old apartment!”
My stomach dropped. I’d been trying so hard to move on, to not think about that place, but here she was, ready to spill the latest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, though. It was like picking at a scab you know you should leave alone.
Chris, beside me, stiffened, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. He knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good.
Mrs. Thompson leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s turned your beautiful kitchen into a metal workshop! Welding and all sorts of things, can you believe it?”
For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. A metal workshop? In our kitchen?
Chris let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. He looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, but also something else—a strange, grim amusement. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”
My mind was reeling, trying to picture the damage.
It was infuriating, but there was something almost… poetic about it, too. She wanted our place so badly, and now she was destroying it piece by piece.
Mrs. Thompson, bless her, was still talking. “Mrs. Johnson’s beside herself, poor thing. She tried to get Lisa to leave, but you know how family is. Lisa won’t budge.”
Later that night, Chris and I sat on the couch watching TV. We hadn’t said much since the grocery store, both of us lost in our thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.
“Do you think she’s ruining it on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just that careless, or maybe she’s trying to wipe away any trace of us. Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”
I nodded, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
The reason why Mick Jagger’s children won’t get a cent of his multimillion dollar fortune
Even though Sir Mick Jagger is one of the most well-known rock stars in the world and has amassed enormous money, he has recently seemed to imply that he will not be transferring his enormous wealth to his offspring.
Since the Rolling Stones’ 1962 London formation, the 80-year-old leader has been a part of the music industry.
The group has since put out 122 singles, 31 studio albums, and 77 music videos. After all of this, the group has sold more than 200 million records worldwide and has been named by Billboard as the second-greatest musician of all time (after The Beatles).
They’ve been together for an incredible 61 years, making them one of the longest-running musical ensembles ever!
Thus, it should come as no surprise that the band members have made a lot of money. Jagger too.
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But as he recently stated in an interview with the Wall Street Journal, that doesn’t imply his kids will automatically become wealthy.
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The father-of-eight informed the publication that, contrary to recent trends among well-known musicians, he currently has no plans to sell the band’s post-1971 catalog. This procedure essentially involves a musician selling the copyright to song recordings, or both, depending on the terms of the agreement.
Performers that have sold the rights to their music, such as Bob Dylan and Katy Perry, have made multimillion dollar deals. Bob Dylan made a whopping $300 million by selling Universal Music his whole discography, and it has been alleged that Dolly Parton wants to follow suit.
In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Jagger stated that he would not be giving his children any money from The Rolling Stones’ music catalog sale. “The kids can live comfortably without $500 million. Come on, he urged.
However, if a deal is struck, Jagger would rather see the funds donated to a worthy cause. You might make a difference in the world, he said.
The singer of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” is married to five different women and has eight children total, ages six to fifty-two. Born in 1970 to Jagger and his then-partner Marsha Hunt, the oldest is 52-year-old Karis.
During Jagger’s relationship with Bianca Jagger, to whom he was married from 1971 until 1978, another daughter, 51-year-old Jade, was born.
Actress Jerry Hall, who dated Jagger from 1977 to 1999, was the girlfriend of the musician. Together, the two had four children: Elizabeth, 39, and Georgia May, 31, as well as James, 38, and Gabriel, 25.
Lucas, 24, is Jagger’s eighth child and was born during his relationship with model Luciana Gimenez Morad. Then, in 2016, Jagger’s current partner Melanie Hamrick, a former ballerina and choreographer, gave birth to Deveraux, his youngest child, who is six years old.
Oh my god. That’s a sizable family, so there are plenty of individuals to divide an enormous fortune among!
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