I Raised My Stepdaughter For 20 Years, But She Chose Her Deadbeat Bio-dad For Her Wedding. So I Stopped Paying Her Bills. Aita For Letting Her Get Evicted?

The Fallout

Later, Sarah confronted me. She called me cruel, said I couldn’t just abandon Emma when she needed me. I told her it wasn’t about money; it was about respect.

“I was there for her for over 20 years, Sarah. And when she had the chance to acknowledge that, she chose to act like it wasn’t enough. I can’t keep being her backup plan whenever things don’t go her way.”

Sarah didn’t understand. To her, blood always came first, even when that blood had done nothing but make empty promises. The conversation ended in silence, but something between us changed. An invisible wall formed where there had never been one before.

Emma hasn’t contacted me since right after that call. Sarah told me that Andrew was upset with me for abandoning Emma in a tough moment. Apparently, Mark had unsurprisingly vanished—no calls, no messages, nothing. I guess Emma was finally seeing the truth. But that didn’t change what she had done or how she had made me feel.

That night, alone in the living room, I replayed every moment I had been there for Emma. Every time she had smiled and called me Dad. And I realized something: I had always believed that title was a choice, a recognition that I had earned my place in her life. But now I wondered if it was just a convenient word to her, something she said when it benefited her.

I don’t know if I can ever move past this. But one thing is certain: this time, I won’t be the one to keep giving. Because honestly, I don’t think I have anything left to give.

Financial Consequences

Update: 3 months since the wedding.

Despite my efforts to stay distant, drama keeps finding me. Sarah constantly tries to fix things between Emma and me, looking at me with that mix of disappointment and pleading, as if waiting for me to give in and go back to being the man who never said no. But what she doesn’t understand, or refuses to accept, is that something inside me changed that day. I can’t just go back to how things were.

Since the call where I refused to pay for Emma’s honeymoon, our relationship has completely faded. She hasn’t reached out, and while that hurt at first, now it feels like relief. No more requests for money disguised as casual check-ins. What did surprise me, though, was how quickly problems started in her marriage.

Sarah, of course, kept in constant contact with Emma and casually brought it up over dinner one night.

“Emma and Andrew are struggling financially,” she sighed dramatically. “Andrew lost his job and they’re having trouble paying rent.”

I kept eating, already knowing where this was going. Sarah pressed on.

“Don’t you think we should help them? She’s our daughter, after all.”

I set down my fork and took a deep breath.

“I’m not her father anymore, Sarah. According to Emma, that role belongs to Mark. So if she needs help, she should ask him.”

Sarah looked at me like I had just said something unforgivable.

“How can you be so cold? She’s always counted on you. You can’t turn your back on her now.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“Cold? Cold is what she did to me at her wedding. Because honestly, that’s exactly how it felt. Cold and invisible. Like I never spent two decades being the one who was there for her. If Mark is her father for the big moments, then he can be her father in the difficult ones too.”

That ended the conversation. Sarah stormed off, taking her plate to the sink. That night we slept in silence, backs turned to each other. It hurt that this was affecting our relationship, but I couldn’t keep being the man who gave and gave, getting nothing in return.

Despite everything, Emma didn’t take long to reach out, though not directly. A week later, I got a message from Andrew. Short, but heavy with desperation.

“Hey, it’s Andrew, Emma’s husband. I need to talk to you about something important. Do you have time?”

I didn’t reply right away. I let the message sit there, a reminder of how much things had changed. I read it over and over, knowing exactly what he wanted. Money. It was always money. Eventually, I decided to hear him out. I had nothing to lose.

We met at a local cafe. Andrew was already there, nervously tapping his foot, staring at an untouched coffee. I sat down without a word, waiting for him to speak first.

“Thanks for coming,” he said finally, though his tone lacked sincerity. It felt more like an obligation. “I know things have been tense between you and Emma, but we’re going through a tough time and thought maybe you could help.”

There it was. The inevitable request. I kept my face neutral.

“What do you need?” I asked, even though I already knew.

Andrew sighed, staring at his coffee as if searching for the right words.

“Emma and I have been struggling financially since the honeymoon. I lost my job recently and now we’re behind on rent. If we don’t pay in two weeks, we’ll be evicted.”

I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in before asking the one question he clearly hadn’t expected.

“Have you asked Mark?”

Andrew looked up, confused.

“Mark? No. We haven’t talked to him. Emma thought… well, that you might help. You’ve always been there for her.”

I smiled, but it wasn’t a kind one. It was bitter, ironic.

“Exactly,” I said, leaning forward. “And yet when she had to choose, she picked Mark. So no, Andrew. I won’t be helping this time. Maybe it’s time for Mark to finally step up for once.”

Andrew tried to argue, saying it wouldn’t be fair if they got evicted, that this wasn’t just about Emma but about him too. I held up a hand to stop him.

“This conversation is over,” I said firmly. “I wish you both the best, but I can’t keep solving your problems.”

I stood up, leaving him alone with his cold coffee and his frustration. When I got home, Sarah was waiting for me as if she already knew what had happened. I didn’t give her details; she didn’t need them. She could tell I had refused to help. Since then, Emma and Andrew have stopped trying. Sarah is still upset, though she stopped pushing me to give in. But something tells me this isn’t over. When a castle crumbles, there’s always more debris to come.