My Stepmom Stole $5,000 from My College Fund to Install Veneers for Herself, Karma Hit Her Hard
Who steals from their daughter? Well, my stepmom did. She swiped $5,000 from my college fund to pay for veneers—a perfect Hollywood smile she desperately craved. But karma? It showed up faster than a dental drill and left her with more regret than glamour.
People say money can’t buy happiness, but my stepmom sure thought it could buy her a million-dollar smile. The kicker? She used my college fund, the one my late mom had set up for me, to pay for her fancy teeth, and acted like it was no big deal. But oh, just wait. Sit back and let me tell you how karma bit back harder than any dentist could.
I’m Kristen, a 17-year-old with big dreams. When my mom passed away, she left me a small college fund. It wasn’t huge, but it was enough to start building my future. My dad, Bob, and I had been adding to it, thanks to my part-time tutoring and babysitting gigs.
Life was fine, at least until Tracy came into the picture. My stepmom is the human embodiment of a selfie stick, obsessed with appearances. If vanity were an Olympic sport, she’d have gold medals hanging around her neck, right next to her designer necklaces. She’s always in front of a mirror, perfecting her hair, nails, and outfits, but when it comes to being a decent person? Well, let’s just say she doesn’t even try.
One day, I came home to find Tracy grinning like she’d hit the jackpot. “Kristen, darling!” she chirped in her sugar-sweet voice. “Guess what your fabulous stepmom is going to do?”
I raised an eyebrow, already bracing for something ridiculous. “Finally learn how to use the dishwasher?”
Her smile flickered, but she quickly recovered. “No, silly! I’m getting veneers! Aren’t you excited for me?”
“Uh, sure,” I muttered, already sensing where this was going.
“And the best part?” she added, flashing her crooked smile, “I found a way to pay for it without breaking the bank.”
My stomach sank. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, relax,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I just borrowed $5,000 from your college fund. It’s family money, right?”
I stood there, shocked. “You STOLE from my college fund?”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “Stole? Come on, it’s just money. I’m family, it’s no big deal. Your father agreed, anyway.”
Liar. There was no way Dad agreed to that. He wouldn’t even sit through one of Tracy’s terrible reality shows, let alone let her take my college savings for her teeth.
I stormed off, slamming my bedroom door, and called Dad immediately. He was just as shocked as I was and promised to “talk to her,” but in Dad-speak, that usually meant he’d mention it once and hope it’d fix itself.
A few weeks later, Tracy got her precious veneers. She pranced around the house, showing off her blinding smile like she was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. “Oh, Kristen,” she teased one day, “maybe you should get some veneers too. Wouldn’t want to scare people with those ‘alligator teeth’ of yours.”
I bit my tongue so hard I thought I might need dental work. “Right. Because blowing five grand on fake teeth is totally normal.”
She smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Remember who pays the bills around here,” she warned, but I shot back, “Pretty sure that’s still Dad.”
A month later, Tracy threw a big backyard barbecue to show off her new smile to the neighborhood. It was painful to watch, like a train wreck with more potato salad. As she raised her wine glass, she grinned and said, “Ladies, gather ‘round! I simply MUST tell you about my transformation!”
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost gave myself a headache.
As Tracy reached for a piece of corn on the cob, karma decided it was time to strike. There was a loud C-R-A-C-K! The sound echoed through the yard. Tracy’s face went white as she clutched her mouth. And then it happened—one of her precious veneers popped right off, landing in the butter on her corn.
She looked like a deer in headlights, her once-perfect smile now gapped and hideous. “I… I…” she stammered before bolting inside the house, leaving a stunned crowd behind.
The aftermath was better than I could have imagined. Tracy became a hermit, too embarrassed to show her face. And when she called her dentist, Dr. Kapoor, he delivered even more bad news: her veneers weren’t top quality, and she’d need to pay even more to fix them.
It was music to my ears.
A few days later, Dad finally confronted Tracy. “We need to talk about Kristen’s college fund,” he said, his voice firmer than I’d heard in a long time.
Tracy tried to deflect, still covering her broken smile. “Bob, can’t you see I’m in a crisis here?”
But Dad wasn’t having it. “Crisis? No. You’re going to pay back every cent you took from that fund. If you can’t, we need to reconsider this whole situation.”
For the first time, Tracy looked genuinely scared.
In the weeks that followed, Tracy remained a recluse, while the neighborhood buzzed with gossip about her “dental disaster.” She couldn’t step outside without someone asking, “How’s that million-dollar smile coming along?”
As for me? Dad stepped up, working overtime to rebuild my college fund. Tracy’s spending habits? Suspiciously quiet.
One day, I caught her staring at a magazine ad for dental implants. I couldn’t resist. “Hey, Tracy,” I called, flashing her a grin. “Need some investment advice?”
She glared at me and stomped off, but not before I saw Dad trying to hide a smirk.
So yeah, Tracy stole $5,000 from my college fund for a fake smile that crumbled faster than her dignity. But in the end, karma served her a cold, hard reality check—one that cost her more than just money.
And me? I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes, the sweetest victories aren’t the ones that cost a thing. They’re the ones that happen when justice gets the last laugh—one broken veneer at a time.