I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
My Husband Invited His Mistress Home for His Birthday Party – I Was Furious and Got the Ultimate Revenge
When Gwen finds strands of red hair in her bed, and red lipstick stains on her husband’s work shirts, she immediately thinks that Ryan is cheating. Then, at his birthday dinner, everything gets revealed when Ryan brings a redhead to the party. Not wanting to let it slide, Gwen works on getting her revenge.
“Gwen, why do you look so stressed?” my friend Jessica asked, her voice laced with concern.
A stressed woman with her hand on her face | Source: Unsplash
We were at the grocery store, getting the final things I needed for the recipes I had been poring over. My husband’s birthday was tomorrow and we had a dinner planned at home.
I sighed, thinking of the small Ziploc bag in my handbag.
A woman opening her handbag | Source: Pexels
“I found this while making the bed,” I said to Jess. “Obviously, it’s not mine, and it sure as hell isn’t Ryan’s.”
I pulled out the bag. Inside was a long strand of bright red hair that I’d found in our bed.
Jessica’s eyes widened as she took the bag from me.
A woman with red hair | Source: Pexels
“Are you serious? That’s pretty damning. What did Ryan say about it? Is it not the nanny’s?” she asked.
“No, not Michelle. She has a pixie cut now because she’s going through a breakup. I haven’t confronted Ryan yet. I actually thought that it might be a fluke,” I admitted. “But then I remembered something else.”
A woman with short hair | Source: Unsplash
“What?” she asked, waving the bag around.
“The other day, I found red lipstick on the collar of his shirt. I was so tired that I didn’t even think about it. I just washed it out and carried on with the laundry. But after finding the hair, it’s all I can think about.”
Jessica’s face hardened.
A woman wearing red lipstick | Source: Pexels
“Gwen, you don’t even wear lipstick. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nodded slowly. There was no point in trying to lie to myself anymore.
“I think he’s cheating on me. Other than the hair and lipstick, Ryan has been staying late at work recently, and it all just adds up to one ugly puzzle,” I said.
The silhouette of a couple | Source: Midjourney
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, picking up the red onions that I needed.
“Nothing for the moment. I know you’ll disagree, but Ryan’s birthday dinner is tomorrow and I don’t want to ruin it in case I’m wrong.”
A birthday cake | Source: Pexels
I knew that I wasn’t wrong. I knew what I felt in my gut, and that was because everything just felt wrong when I thought about my marriage.
Recently, Ryan and I hadn’t been as intimate as before. We didn’t do as many date nights or anything spontaneous. I figured that it was just life being life, and that we had gotten busy with our jobs.
We argued over everything.
A couple arguing | Source: Pexels
“We’re just in a rut,” I told myself when I was sweeping the house and thinking about it one day.
“Look,” Jess said. “I understand that you need to reevaluate it and look at everything, but you also need to know that you can’t let it go on indefinitely. You have two kids to worry about. So, think about them, too.”
A woman sweeping the floor | Source: Pexels
The next day, as I finished up the final touches on the platters of food, my nerves were on edge. The guests started arriving for the party, and Ryan got more excited every time the doorbell rang.
“This is going to be so great, honey!” he said, walking around the house, making sure that everyone had a drink.
People holding glasses of wine | Source: Unsplash
“Just call me if you need me,” I said. “I’m just going to get the canapés out.”
My husband smiled at me and nodded as he walked out.
I plastered a smile on my face, greeting everyone and giving them bites to eat.
A platter of canapés | Source: Midjourney
Then, Ryan walked in with her.
“Honey, this is Stacy,” Ryan said, gesturing to the red-haired woman beside him. His hand was around her waist, and she batted her eyelashes at him.
Stacy smiled brightly.
A woman with red hair and red lipstick | Source: Unsplash
“Hi, Gwen!” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I forced a smile. Inside, I was seething. The resemblance to the hair and lipstick was unmistakable.
“Nice to meet you, Stacy,” I said, trying to keep my face expressionless. “Make yourself at home.”
An expressionless woman | Source: Pexels
Throughout the party, I kept up the charade, mingling with guests and keeping a close eye on Stacy and my husband.
Jessica caught my eye across the room and raised an eyebrow in question.
I nodded slightly, confirming her suspicions.
People mingling | Source: Pexels
Later, when Ryan was outside with the smokers, I approached Stacy.
“So, how do you like working with Ryan?” I asked.
Stacy beamed, her eyes lighting up.
“Oh, it’s great! He’s been such a help. And being the assistant to our boss, I get to spend a lot of time with him. I’m new to the whole thing; Jeff hired me on the fact that I needed to spend time away from the kids.”
A woman sitting at a desk | Source: Unsplash
I nearly choked on my drink.
“Wait, you’re Mr. Anderson’s assistant? And his wife?”
“Yes! It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
I smiled tightly.
A married couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
“Very small,” I said. “Please, come on and take a seat; dinner will be served now.”
I served dinner methodically, with Jessica hot on my heels. I knew that she wanted to know everything.
“Not now,” I said, giving her a platter of chicken wings. “Later, I promise.”
A platter of chicken wings | Source: Midjourney
The rest of the evening went off smoothly, except for the fact that Ryan and Stacy were openly flirting in front of us all.
The next morning, I went out to the hardware store and bought hidden cameras that I installed in our bedroom.
A hardware store | Source: Unsplash
During dinner, I lied to him.
“Ryan, I’m going to support Jess. Charles just left her, and she needs me there,” I lied. “I’ll be gone for a day or two. I’ll take the kids, too.”
Two young boys with skateboards | Source: Pexels
Ryan nodded absentmindedly, not even thinking about the fact that Jess and Charles were with us the previous night and were fine.
“Sure, take your time, honey,” he said, drinking his coffee.
A man holding a mug | Source: Unsplash
I took the kids to Jess’s, where we were going to spend the weekend.
“Two days without you and the kids,” Jess said, making me some tea. “Ryan will definitely do something wrong.”
“I know,” I agreed. “He wouldn’t be able to resist anything.”
A woman holding a teabag | Source: Pexels
When I returned, the first thing I did was review the footage. And my worst fears were confirmed, right there, on tape.
I contacted a lawyer and set up a meeting with Stacy’s husband.
A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels
“Mr. Anderson,” I said on the phone. “It’s Gwen, Ryan’s wife. I need to meet you urgently. In private.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, his confusion clear.
“I’d rather we discuss it in person,” I replied.
A woman using a laptop and holding a phone | Source: Pexels
“I’ll meet you in an hour,” he said.
I took my laptop to the coffee shop that we had agreed to meet at.
He was already seated, two coffees on the table and waiting.
A cup of coffee on a table | Source: Pexels
“Are you okay? Is Ryan okay? He’s one of my best employees,” he said.
“Let me show you something,” I said.
I played the footage of Ryan and Stacy together.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice strained. “Thank you for telling me.”
A shocked man covering his mouth | Source: Pexels
When I got home, I made dinner for my sons and waited for Ryan to come home. The moment he walked in, I confronted him with the divorce papers.
“Gwen, what’s this?” he asked, bewildered.
“I know about you and Stacy,” I said coldly. “I have proof.”
Ryan fell to his knees in the kitchen.
Divorce paperwork | Source: Pexels
“Please, Gwen, don’t tell Mr. Anderson. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”
“You brought another woman into our bed. I deserve better. So much better.”
In the end, Ryan lost everything in the divorce. He was fired from his job and found it difficult to find another job.
A man holding his head | Source: Pexels
“Please, take me back,” he said on the phone one evening when I was dishing out ice cream for the boys.
“I don’t want to,” I said. “I’m just done having anything to do with you.”
“I deserve a second chance,” he said. “The boys need their father.”
I left the phone on the kitchen counter and let Ryan vent away.
I didn’t care anymore.
Bowls of ice cream on a counter | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply