It Was My Dad Who Died But My Husband Wants His Inheritance, The Reason Will Shock You

My dad’s death broke me completely. Even now, three years later, I haven’t healed. When I go home, I still expect to see him. Sometimes I hear his voice even when no one’s around. He was only sixty-two when he died. People say time heals, but in my case, time just keeps reminding me of the pain. That pain has started affecting my marriage. Just a while ago, I argued with my husband. And honestly, sometimes I wish my dad hadn’t died, because my husband’s behavior since then has made everything worse.

It’s just me and my younger brother now. Our mom died four years before our dad, so we’re on our own. After our dad passed, we discovered he had left behind a lot of things—some we didn’t even know about. There were trucks, cattle, cocoa farms, houses, and cash. We had to sell some of the cars so we could share the money with other family members.

In the end, I received GHC275,000 in cash, two houses, several plots of land, and some farms. My husband was with me when all of it was officially handed over. My brother and I agreed to manage the cattle and farms together and split any profits.

Two years before this, my husband had quit his job to start his own business. I supported him financially and put in a lot of money. But after all this time, I haven’t seen a single return. Still, he kept insisting the business was doing fine. When I inherited the money, he said, “Let’s use half for the business, thirty percent for a project we talked about, and save the rest while we wait for income from the farms.”

But the truth is, it was my dad who died. I was the one mourning. Yet, somehow, my husband was planning how to use the money to benefit himself. I told him I needed time to think about it. Honestly, that money doesn’t bring me happiness. It feels like a painful reminder of my dad’s absence—like I traded him for wealth. When my husband kept pressuring me about the money, I quietly invested it into treasury bills and stopped thinking about it.

Every morning, he would wake up and ask what I was going to do with the money. Eventually, I told him, “The farms and cattle also need money to run, so I’m keeping the money aside for that.”

Then he started giving me long lectures about business—how to invest, what not to do, and what I was supposedly doing wrong. He began accusing me of changing. He’d say things like, “You don’t listen to me anymore. It’s like you married me just because you have money now. You don’t want to grow together as a couple. It’s all about you.”

Meanwhile, he keeps saying his business is doing well. But I’m the one paying the children’s school fees. We have two kids, and although we had agreed that I would help financially while his business took off, it’s been two years, and I’m still covering almost everything. Not just school fees—any other expense that comes up, I’m the one handling it. I don’t complain because I understand the situation, and I know I can afford it.

But the least he could do is show appreciation. Instead, he demands more because he assumes I have more.

A company once approached me to rent one of the houses I inherited. I didn’t agree with their terms, so I told them no. They promised to come back with new terms, but they haven’t. My husband said I should accept their offer anyway and forget about the terms. “The money would help the business,” he said. “I just need a little push.”

I know his business is okay. He talks about expanding and growing, but all of it seems to only exist in his imagination. And because I won’t hand over my inheritance, he’s now always angry. Small disagreements turn into big fights. He sulks, refuses to eat food I cook, and doesn’t help the kids with homework.

He’s even stopped giving money for the house. The last time I asked, he said he had no money. When I pointed out how stingy he’s become, he told me it’s because I’m not supporting his dream. He’s completely pulled back on everything financial.

I don’t have a car of my own. He drives the one we bought together, but when it breaks down, he won’t fix it. He leaves it until I pay for the repairs. And I always do—because otherwise, I’d have to use Uber to take the kids to and from school. He does nothing to help until I fix the car myself.

So one day, I spoke honestly. I told him, “If you’re not going to act like the man of this house just because of money I got from my dad, then let me know. No matter how you look at it, the money and property are still part of this family. So why are you acting this way?”

I didn’t say I wanted a divorce. I wasn’t even angry. I just wanted us to talk like adults. But he replied, “Are you threatening me with divorce? Now that you have money, you think you’re the head of the house? Go ahead. I should have known that this small amount of money would change you. I was foolish to trust you.”

But I still care about this marriage. I miss how we used to be—how we worked as a team, shared ideas, and supported each other. I haven’t changed. He has. And still, he blames me because he wants something I can’t give him.

Can he ever move on from this money and see me as his partner again?

I don’t act like I’m better than him. If anything, I’m the one playing both my role and his. I don’t complain about it, so why is he always angry at me?

What can I do to bring peace back into our home?

No, I won’t give him the money—not now. And honestly, it shows me he’s not wise about how he handles things. You can’t demand things with anger and guilt trips. If a woman feels truly loved, supported, and safe, she’ll do more than expected. Maybe—just maybe—if he treated me the way he used to, before the inheritance came in, I might have been more open. But now, he walks around like a king who thinks he deserves to be worshipped. That’s not love. That’s control.