When my teenage daughter saved up all the money she could to buy a sewing machine, she didn’t know that her stepmother would destroy it out of sheer vengefulness. But when I heard the news, I enlisted the help of a close friend to get sweet revenge.
I never thought I’d have to go head-to-head with my ex-husband’s new wife after all the disrespect she’d shown to my daughter over the years, but when she took things too far, I knew I had to act. Let me back up a little.
A stressed out teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
I’m 46, and my daughter, Rachel, is 16. She’s smart, creative, and has big dreams of becoming a fashion designer. She usually lives with me but stays at her dad’s house every other weekend. Let’s just say those weekends aren’t her favorite.
Rachel’s dad, Mark, and I split up years ago. Our relationship now? Civil but distant. He’s always been the “hands-off” parent — more of a buddy than a father. He remarried soon after our divorce to a woman named Karen, and she lives up to the stereotype.
A mean-looking woman | Source: Midjourney
She’s cruel and runs their house like a boot camp, setting strict rules and expecting everyone to follow them without question. Rachel, being independent and headstrong, has always struggled with that.
Karen believes in discipline to an extreme, so my daughter isn’t allowed any spending money and has to work hard for everything. Sadly, Mark isn’t willing to support her financially. His reasoning? “I pay for her schooling and feed her when she’s here, right?”
An unbothered man | Source: Midjourney
So when Rachel told me she wanted to save up for her dream sewing machine, I was proud! My little (okay, not so little) go-getter managed to get a part-time job at a local fabric store, balancing school and work like a champ!
She worked so hard and diligently that I even offered to match her savings to help her get the machine faster! When she finally brought it home, her face lit up, and I knew it had been worth it. It was the first thing that truly felt like hers!
A happy girl with her sewing machine | Source: Midjourney
Enthralled with her new purchase, my daughter spent all her free time working. She really hoped to turn her hobby into a career. But Karen? She wasn’t having it.
“You spend too much time on that thing,” she’d furiously scold Rachel, ignoring how passionate she was about sewing. “It’s a distraction. You have responsibilities in this house.”
I could see the tension growing every time Rachel came home after a weekend there.
An unhappy girl | Source: Midjourney
One Friday, she called me in tears, devastated over something her stepmother had done. When she broke down telling me what had happened, I was livid.
“She threw it in the pool, Mom,” my daughter whispered, her voice shaking. “All because I didn’t wash the dishes fast enough. I tried explaining I’d do them right after, but she didn’t listen and felt I was arguing with her. She just picked it up and threw it outside as a way to punish me.”
I felt my blood boil. “Are you serious?!”
An angry woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll be there in a bit, my baby. I’m sorry this happened,” I said, feeling like a kettle about to explode.
I quickly grabbed my car keys and drove over. I wasn’t supposed to take Rachel, as I’d just dropped her off earlier in the day, but I was determined to protect her.
When I arrived, Rachel met me at the front door, tears welling up again. “She said I needed to learn a lesson. Dad didn’t even stop her. He just… stood there.”
My heart broke as I comforted her and walked in to confront Karen.
A woman comforting her child | Source: Midjourney
What hurt the most was that Mark just stood by while Karen destroyed something our daughter had worked so hard for. When Karen saw me, she had that smug look she always wore.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, arms crossed.
I didn’t hesitate but kept my voice steady. “I’m here to get Rachel’s things. You had no right to destroy something she worked so hard for!”
Karen didn’t even flinch. “It was a distraction! She’s too focused on that sewing machine and not enough on her chores. Now that she’s learned her lesson, maybe next time, she’ll listen!”
A woman shouting | Source: Midjourney
Rachel stood behind me, fists clenched. I could see how much this had hurt her, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.
“Karen,” I said, stepping closer, “if YOU think you’re teaching responsibility by ruining something she loves, you’re mistaken. What you’re teaching is cruelty!”
Mark, who had been watching from the kitchen, finally spoke up. “Look, I think you’re overreacting. It’s just a machine, and Karen’s just trying to help our daughter stay on track.”
A man being dismissive | Source: Midjourney
I shot him a glare. “Mark, this is exactly why Rachel barely wants to come here! You let your wife do whatever she wants, and you don’t stand up for your daughter!”
He looked away, clearly uncomfortable, but I didn’t have time for his excuses. I turned back to Karen. “You’re going to regret this,” I said calmly.
“Go get your stuff, Rach. You’re sleeping over at my place,” I told my daughter, looking at my ex defiantly.
“I’ll bring her back if she wants to return,” I informed Mark and Karen, who both said nothing.
An upset woman leaving a house | Source: Midjourney
Furious about how things had gone down, I took my daughter home, and we watched comedies, ate popcorn, and snuggled under a blanket. I hoped this little reprieve would ease her, but I was determined to teach her stepmother a very important lesson.
The next day, I set my plan into motion. A friend of mine, Jason, was an actor, and he owed me a favor. He had an old police uniform from a past gig and knew exactly how to pull off a convincing performance.
A happy man dressed as a cop | Source: Midjourney
We devised a little scheme to give Karen a taste of her own medicine. My daughter’s stepmother worked from home and was practically glued to her laptop. That thing was her lifeline — meetings, reports — everything was on it.
I figured it was time for her to feel what it’s like to have something important taken away. The next day, I filled Rachel in on the plan and explained what part she’d play as we finalized things.
Of course, my feisty teenager was on board, ready to take Karen down and give her a taste of her own medicine! Let me just say that Karen’s screams were worth it.
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney
On Sunday, we woke up early so I could drop Rachel off at Mark’s house and then pretend to leave. I parked my car out of sight and met up with Jason, who was fully dressed as a policeman.
Jason knocked on their door while I watched things play out from a safe distance.
Karen answered, and Jason launched into his rehearsed speech. “Ma’am, we have an order to confiscate your laptop due to an ongoing investigation.” He flashed some very convincing-looking documents.
A policeman holding a document | Source: Midjourney
Karen’s face drained of color. “What? No! This has to be a mistake!” she screamed in horror, thinking of all the important information she had on the machine.
“I’m afraid not,” Jason said, stepping inside. “I need you to hand it over now.”
I could hear her panicked voice from where I hid. “You can’t just take my laptop! I need it! Everything’s on there — my work, my personal files!”
Jason stayed in character, shaking his head. “Ma’am, I understand this is difficult, but it’s out of my hands.”
A serious policeman | Source: Midjourney
She was almost on her knees, begging Jason not to take what she described as “my life!” Sadly, Karen was one of those people who didn’t believe in saving things on the cloud, so she’d have no access to all the crucial information that helped her do her work.
At that moment, Rachel walked in from behind her through the kitchen with her phone in hand, filming everything. She looked Karen straight in the eye and said, “See? It’s unpleasant to part with something important to you.”
A girl recording with her phone | Source: Midjourney
Her stepmother’s mouth fell open as realization hit! She turned red, her eyes darting between Rachel and Jason. “Wait… is this some kind of joke?!”
I stepped inside then, smiling. “No joke. Just a lesson in empathy.”
Karen’s jaw clenched, and she stammered, “You can’t just—”
“Oh, but I can,” I said, crossing my arms. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to pay Rachel back for the sewing machine, and you’re going to apologize. If not, we’ll upload this video on social media, showing all your friends how you got in trouble with the law. You’ll be a pariah and might lose your company’s trust.”
A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
Karen looked around as if hoping someone would save her, but Mark had gone on a fishing trip the previous day, and she was at my mercy. She sighed heavily and muttered, “Fine.”
She stormed off to grab her checkbook, her face burning with humiliation. She scribbled down the amount and shoved the check into Rachel’s hand. “Sorry,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact.
An angry woman handing over a check | Source: Midjourney
My daughter looked at me, and I nodded. “We’re done here.”
We all left together, leaving Karen behind. I told the evil stepmother that my daughter was going to stay with me full-time for a while until she was ready to visit them again.
Rachel let out a laugh the moment we got in the car. “Mom, that was amazing!”
“Sweetheart,” I said, squeezing her hand, “nobody messes with my daughter and gets away with it!”
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
Since then, Rachel hasn’t spent a single weekend at her dad’s house unless she wants to. They meet on neutral ground now, usually at a coffee shop or the park. As for Karen? She’s been on her best behavior, though I doubt she’ll ever forget that day.
My daughter used the money to buy a brand-new sewing machine, and this time, she’s keeping it right where it belongs — at home, with me.
A happy girl with her sewing machine | Source: Midjourney
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?
Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.
I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.
At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.
Here’s how it all went down.
My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.
Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
Then came Monica, about three years ago.
At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.
Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.
A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.
Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”
“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.
At least, that’s what I thought.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.
A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney
She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.
“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.
I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.
I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
A funerary urn.
You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.
I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.
A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.
“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?”
Monica’s grin widened.
A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.
“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”
A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney
She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.
I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?
“How could you do this?” I whispered.
Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.
Wow.
That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.
I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.
An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.
The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.
I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.
A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney
At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.
“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”
“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.
Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney
But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.
I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.
But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.
Against my better judgment, I decided to go.
A note on a table | Source: Midjourney
When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.
I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.
I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.
The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney
I just stared at them, completely lost.
“What is this?”
Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.
Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah
I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.
A hair salon | Source: Midjourney
“What… what is this?”
Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.
“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”
I couldn’t breathe.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.
Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.
“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”
A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, speechless.
My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”
“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know what to say.
Or what to think.
Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.
Monica laughed softly.
“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.
She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.
And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.
What would you have done?
Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Transferred $24K to My Daughter for Her College Tuition, Only to Discover She Never Enrolled — What She Spent It On Made Me Pale
Caroline had been saving for her daughter’s college fund since Angela was born. But after a classmate of Angela’s reveals that Angela is not actually enrolled in college, Caroline must uncover what her daughter is doing and what she used the money for.
Children are always going to break your heart. This was something that I learned the hard way after trusting my daughter, Angela, completely.
A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney
Since Angela was born, I have been saving for college. I needed to know that irrespective of what life threw my way, I would be able to educate my child.
“I think you can wait until she’s a little older,” my husband, Holden, said. “We can do it together.”
“You can add to her college fund later,” I said, looking at my baby girl. “But I’m going to start from next month. I wasn’t able to study, Holden. And it was because we didn’t have the opportunity to do so. Angela is going to get that opportunity.”
A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, Caroline,” my husband said. “You start it now, and I’ll add to it in a year. The house will be paid off, and I’ll be able to put that money into the fund.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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