My mom passed away when I was nine, but before she died, she set up a $25,000 trust for me to receive at eighteen. I grew up believing my dad would protect it, but after he remarried a woman named Tracy, everything changed. When my dad later died, Tracy became my guardian and treated me like an unwanted burden while pampering her son, Connor. She moved me to the basement, fed me scraps, and ignored me while spoiling him with expensive gifts — including a Jeep.

When I finally turned eighteen, I asked about the trust. Tracy calmly told me the money was gone — used on “household needs,” which really meant Connor’s lifestyle. Furious, I walked out and learned from my mom’s old lawyer that she’d legally drained it months before. I worked two jobs to survive while Connor strutted around with my mom’s money, until one rainy night he crashed the Jeep while speeding and texting, injuring a woman and her son.

The accident triggered a lawsuit, and Tracy’s world quickly shattered. In court, financial records exposed her taking my inheritance. The judge ordered her to pay $75,000 to the injured family and repay me the $25,000 she stole. Unable to pay, she had to sell the house and move away, taking Connor and her broken pride with her. The Jeep ended up totaled in a junkyard — the perfect symbol of everything she built on lies.

Now I work, save, and live on my own terms. Tracy tried to say I was “cold,” but she never loved me — she only used me. I didn’t want revenge; I wanted justice. And seeing karma fall exactly where it needed to, I finally found peace. My mom always said the universe remembers — and she was right.