I’m Johnny, 45, and I’ve raised my daughter Stephanie alone since her mom passed. When my fiancée Ella and her four kids moved in, I set one boundary: Stephanie keeps her room — the one filled with memories of her mom.
The next day, I came home to find Stephanie crying. Her belongings were dumped in the basement, while Ella’s daughters had taken over her room, wearing her clothes and playing on her mom’s quilt.
When I confronted Ella, she coldly said, “Your daughter needs to learn she’s not the center of the universe.” That was all I needed to hear. I ended the engagement on the spot.
