When my mom passed, she left me her beloved lake house — her sanctuary and the place we’d spent our best memories together. I guarded it closely, visiting only on special days to feel close to her. So imagine my shock when I arrived on the anniversary of her death to find loud music, strange cars, and my stepmother Carla throwing a party there.

Through the window, I saw her friends laughing, drinking, and mocking my mom’s “hippie” lifestyle. One even used my mom’s hand-stitched pillow as a footrest. My chest tightened when I realized they weren’t trespassers — Carla had stolen my spare key to get in. That day, I didn’t barge in. I called my lawyer.

Luckily, the house had a security system. The cameras caught everything: Carla unlocking the door, her guests mocking my mom, and one breaking a stained-glass piece she’d made by hand. Worse, Carla’s texts bragged about partying at the “hippie hut” behind my back. In court, the evidence was undeniable.

Carla faced charges for trespassing and theft, paid for damages, and was hit with a restraining order. Two months later, my dad asked her to leave. Now, the lake house is safe again — still my sanctuary, still full of Mom’s spirit. Justice was served, not by anger, but by karma and the truth.