I’m Ryan, 19, and what happened still feels unreal. My mom died of breast cancer when I was nine, but before she passed, she left a $25,000 trust for me to receive at eighteen. My dad promised to protect it, and for a while, he did. Then he met Tracy. After she and her son, Connor, moved in, my mom’s things vanished, and the house stopped feeling like home.
When my dad died three years later, Tracy became my guardian and dropped the act. Connor got everything—new gadgets, a Jeep—while I slept on a thin mattress in the basement. I counted the days until I turned eighteen. On my birthday, Tracy threw a cheap party, then calmly told me the trust money was “gone.” Her “household needs” turned out to be Connor’s Jeep.
A lawyer confirmed she had legally drained the account while I was still a minor. So I worked two jobs and tried to survive.Two months later, Connor crashed the Jeep while texting, injuring a mother and her son. A lawsuit followed, and Tracy begged me to help with the bills. I reminded her my inheritance had already paid for enough. In court, the truth came out.
Tracy was ordered to pay $75,000 to the injured family and $25,000 back to me. She lost the house and moved out in silence. Now I’m rebuilding my life—working at a garage, saving for college, driving an old truck the guys helped me restore.
My mom always said karma has a long memory.
She was right.