Over the following weeks, the trust document seemed to shadow every decision we made. It was always there, a specter at the edge of our conversations.
“Maybe we should just agree to it,” my husband suggested one night, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s not like we have to follow their rules.”
“But what if we do?” I countered, the thought of losing our autonomy gnawing at me.
We sought advice from a financial advisor, hoping for clarity. She was a no-nonsense woman who looked over the document with critical eyes.
“This is more than a gift,” she confirmed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “It’s a way to control how you use the funds.”
Her words confirmed what I’d feared all along. The trust wasn’t just a financial safety net; it was a leash.
As we left her office, the chill of realization settled over us. We were caught in a web of expectations, with no easy way out.
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