Who stole her daughter’s college money? My stepmother did. She swiped $5,000 from my fund to finance her dream of a Hollywood smile with veneers, but karma had its own plans, leaving her with more regret than shine.
Money may not buy happiness, but my stepmother believed it could buy a million-dollar grin. Worst of all, she took it from the college fund my late mother left for me—acting like it was no big deal. But get comfortable and let me tell you how karma hit back.
I’m Kristen, 17, with dreams bigger than my stepmother’s ego. My mom passed away when I was young, leaving a modest college fund, which my dad, Bob, and I have been building up ever since. I contributed through part-time work, tutoring, and babysitting to keep my dreams alive.
Things were going smoothly until Tracy, my selfie-obsessed stepmother, entered the picture. She spends more time in front of the mirror than most people do eating breakfast. If vanity were an Olympic sport, Tracy would take the gold.
One day, I came home to find her beaming like she’d won the lottery.
“Kristen, guess what your fabulous stepmother is getting done?” she chirped.
I raised an eyebrow. “Finally learning how to use the washing machine?”
Her smile flickered but quickly returned. “No, I’m getting veneers! Isn’t that fabulous?”
“Uh, congrats?” I replied, trying to sound enthused.
“Oh, don’t look so glum! And the best part? I found a way to do it without breaking the bank.”
My stomach sank. “What do you mean?”
Her grin widened, showing off her yellowish teeth. “Well, I borrowed a little from your college fund. Just $5,000!”
I stood there, stunned. “You did WHAT?”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “Stole? I’m family. It’s not that serious, sweetie.”
“You had NO RIGHT! That money is for my future. My mom set it aside for me.”
“Stop being so dramatic! And your dad approved,” she added with a smirk.
Liar. Dad would never agree to this. I stormed to my room and called him. He promised he’d handle it, which in dad-speak meant a single conversation he’d hope would resolve itself.
A few weeks later, Tracy was parading her new teeth around the house like she was on a runway, flashing her smile every chance she got.
“Oh, Kristen,” she cooed one night, “remember to smile when you’re tutoring. Although,” she added, eyeing me, “maybe keep your mouth closed so you don’t scare the kids.”
I bit my tongue. “Right. Because stealing $5,000 is totally normal, right?”
“Watch it, Missy,” she hissed, “don’t forget who keeps a roof over your head.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s still Dad,” I muttered, slamming my door.
A month later, Tracy hosted a barbecue to show off her new smile. She clinked her glass to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies, let me tell you about my transformation!”
Then it happened. She picked up a corn cob and bit down hard. C-R-A-C-K!
The sound echoed across the yard. Tracy’s face paled as she realized her veneer had snapped, revealing a gaping space where her tooth used to be.
Tracy’s dental mishap soon became a neighborhood joke. And Dad? He finally confronted her, standing firm for once. “You’re paying back every cent you took from Kristen’s fund,” he declared.
In the end, Tracy was left paying for low-quality veneers, and Dad worked overtime to restore my college savings.
As for me? I’ve learned that the most valuable things aren’t bought—they’re the lessons learned along the way. And nothing beats the satisfaction of seeing justice served.