When my mom passed away two years ago, my life was shattered into countless pieces. She was my hero, my closest confidante, and my unwavering support.

Cancer had taken her too soon when I was just fourteen, leaving me with no immediate family except for my Aunt Cheryl. Cheryl swiftly entered the picture, almost too eagerly, offering to “graciously” take me in, though I later discovered her real intentions.

“You’re family, Jenna,” she insisted, her smile appearing forced. “And family looks after their own.”

Initially, I considered myself fortunate. Aunt Cheryl’s home was large and beautiful, suggesting I might find the stability I craved after the upheaval. Sadly, I was unaware at the time that love wasn’t her motivation for taking me in. She had much darker reasons.

My aunt had three kids: Maddie, the picture-perfect seventeen-year-old; Dylan, the prank-loving thirteen-year-old; and Lucas, the nine-year-old who was accustomed to getting his way. Their lifestyle seemed to become even more extravagant after my arrival, with the latest gadgets, designer clothes, and weekly family outings to costly restaurants.

In stark contrast, I was relegated to the dusty, unfinished attic with just a lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, surrounded by boxes of random old things and a sagging twin mattress.

“Why can’t I stay in the guest room downstairs?” I asked on the first evening.

Cheryl gave me a cold glance. “Don’t start, Jenna. We don’t have the space. Be grateful I even took you in.”

Grateful? Every meal for me was a leftover affair to be reheated, and mall visits turned into lectures about fiscal responsibility, while somehow Maddie always ended up with new shoes or shiny jewelry.

One day, while doing my homework in the attic, I couldn’t help but overhear Cheryl’s voice wafting up.

“I’m telling you, Eric, the money is a boon for us all. The girl doesn’t even utilize half of it. She’s essentially sitting on it.”

Eric, Cheryl’s husband, responded quietly, but her words reverberated: The money. It wouldn’t click until later, say, on my sixteenth birthday, when karma came calling.

Though I had trained myself not to anticipate much for my birthday, I held out a vague hope that my aunt might acknowledge it. Yet, as I descended that day, I found Maddie unwrapping a sleek, new MacBook with delight.

“Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, Mom!” Maddie exclaimed, throwing her arms around Cheryl.

I cleared my throat. “Isn’t today my birthday?”

My aunt barely blinked. “Maddie needed this for school, it’s essential, plus you aren’t even in advanced classes.”

“But…” my voice cracked. “What about me?”

Cheryl’s unfeeling eyes met mine. “You think I don’t do enough for you? Be grateful I even remembered, Jenna! You have food and a roof over your head!”

The absence of warmth from Cheryl and her doted-on children extended to ignoring the fact it was my birthday entirely.

I felt the tears threaten but was resolute not to let them fall. I spun back to the attic, shutting the door with finality. Happy birthday to me, I thought glumly, knowing venting my frustrations to my uncle was impossible since he was on a work trip and often the only one who would sympathetically listen.

Cheryl and her children left for a ‘birthday lunch’ for Maddie (because, naturally, she had one even if it wasn’t her birthday). Alone, and feeling utterly dejected, a confident knock echoed throughout the empty house.

A woman, tall and self-assured, stood there, gray eyes intensely focused, with a briefcase held firmly in one hand. “Are you Jenna?” she inquired.

I nodded, wary. “Who are you?”

“I’m Olivia,” she replied, her demeanor both assured and serious. “I was a colleague of your mother’s some time before she passed.”

My heart raced with surprise. “You knew my mom?”

“Indeed,” Olivia confirmed, stepping inside. “And I promised her something. May we sit down? I have essential matters to discuss.” We settled on the immaculate white sofas in Cheryl’s living room, a place normally forbidden to me. Olivia opened her briefcase and began sorting through hefty files.

“Your mother set aside a trust fund for you, Jenna,” she explained. “A sum meant to safeguard your future, but she held reservations about Cheryl’s intentions. Before her passing, she trusted me to monitor the situation.”

“What exactly are you saying?” I whispered as anxiety clawed at me.

Olivia’s resolve softened. “Your aunt has been depleting your funds, Jenna. The trust, intended for your education and future, has been used to sustain her lavish life.”

The shock was jarring; Aunt Cheryl had been exploiting me for years! Rather than ensuring my future, she squandered the money on her children’s luxury, extravagant cars, elite schooling, and opulent vacations. While I, in contrast, was relegated to old clothes, reheated meals, and the attic.

Before I could get my thoughts in order, Cheryl’s car screeched into the driveway, filling me with an icy dread.

Mere moments later, the front door crashed open! Cheryl stormed inside, her presence commanding attention. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Olivia rose calmly as Cheryl rushed in, her children in tow. Recognition swept across Cheryl’s face upon seeing Olivia.

“It’s time to rectify your actions, Cheryl,” Olivia spoke authoritatively. “This conversation pertains to Jenna’s inheritance and how you’ve been utilizing it.”

Cheryl’s complexion lost color. “I… I don’t understand what you mean.”

Olivia produced the documents, spreading them across the coffee table. “Bank statements. Withdrawals from Jenna’s trust. Lavish holidays. Vehicles. Tuition for private education—all funded with her trust.”

“This is absurd!” Cheryl shouted, her voice tense with unease.

I stood, fists clenched in determination. “You exploited me,” I declared, my voice fervent. “Did you drain even the funds intended for my college?”

As her children’s bewildered eyes glanced upon her, Cheryl’s carefully constructed facade began to shatter. “I had financial burdens! Managing a household of four children isn’t easy!”

“Four?” I snapped. “I wasn’t your child! I was merely a source of income for you!”

“You ungrateful child—” Cheryl started before Olivia interjected firmly.

“Enough,” Olivia said stoutly. “You’ve violated the trust agreement. This amounts to fraud, Cheryl. It isn’t going unaddressed.”

Maddie began to wail. “Mom, what’s happening? Are we losing everything over this?”

Desperately, Cheryl turned on me, eyes blazing with accusation. “This is all on you! If you weren’t so self-centered—”

“My fault?” I yelled. “YOU were the one who stole from ME!”

The room spiraled into chaos with voices raised until Olivia’s calm yet authoritative voice broke through. “Cheryl, I recommend you compose yourself. You will need legal counsel.”

It wasn’t long before Cheryl’s carefully curated life unraveled. Olivia submitted formal complaints against her, revealing Cheryl’s fraudulent actions, leading to the accounts being frozen and charges being filed. Cheryl’s tears and pleas were in vain.

Apparently, my aunt had previously been acquainted with Olivia when informed of my mother’s demise and the stipulations regarding my trust. Olivia had explicitly warned Cheryl of the legal consequences of misappropriating my assets, though Cheryl ignored these warnings.

Cheryl’s illusion of perfection came crashing down. Within weeks, I was relocated. Olivia helped place me within a nurturing foster family with kind hearts that adopted me as their own.

For the first time since losing my mother, I felt welcomed and valued—free from the cold, indifferent glares of Cheryl and the smugness of Maddie, enjoyed a newfound sense of belonging.

As Cheryl’s life fell apart, their home was repossessed, the lavish cars were seized, and Maddie’s private schooling was terminated. Though whispers suggested Cheryl held me responsible for the downfall, I remained unfazed. Despite taking away precious years, Cheryl couldn’t steal my future!

Upon reaching my eighteenth birthday, Olivia sat across from me once again, a pile of documents before us. “Jenna,” she announced, “the funds that remain are now legally yours.”

Tears welled up as I signed the final paper. “Thank you,” I managed softly.

Later, seated on the porch of my foster family’s welcoming home, I gazed at the stars, feeling my mother’s presence beside me. Her gentle voice seemed to whisper, You’ve made it, Jenna. You’re finally free.

It may take time, but karma delivers justice eventually. Cheryl’s avarice led to her downfall, liberating me to seize the hope and opportunities my mom always envisioned for me.

For this newfound freedom and hope, I’ll forever be grateful.

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