The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
My Stepmom Secretly Canceled My Prom Hair Appointment to Ruin My Day, But Her Jaw Dropped When a Limousine Showed Up for Me
Let me tell you—this story is wild, and you won’t believe what happened!
First, a bit of background. I’m Emily, 17, and a senior in high school. I live with my dad, my stepmom Carla, and her son, Mason. Despite everything, Mason and I get along like siblings usually do. But Carla? Well, she can’t stand me, and trust me, the feeling is mutual.
It all started seven years ago when my mom passed away from a cold that wouldn’t go away. Not long after, my dad started dating Carla, and within a year, they were married. I’ll never forget my aunt’s words at the wedding: “Your father didn’t waste any time, did he? And who is Carla anyway? She’s nothing compared to your mom.”
Carla seemed fine at first. She even tried to win me over, but it didn’t take long for the passive-aggressive comments to begin. I remember once, she just stared at me and said, “You look too much like your mother, Emily. It actually pains me to look at you.” She’d add digs like, “No wonder your father gives Mason more attention.” I tried to brush it off, but it stung. My dad? Clueless, of course. He didn’t see how Carla really treated me, and Carla loved that. She could say whatever she wanted with zero consequences.
Fast forward to prom season. Like any other girl, I was dreaming of the perfect night. I had saved up my babysitting money for months and finally bought a gorgeous violet dress—my mom’s favorite color. I had also booked a hair appointment at a fancy salon, where all my friends were getting their hair done too. Everything was set for my magical night… until Carla decided to ruin it.
The day of prom, I showed up at the salon, excited and ready. But the receptionist looked confused when I arrived. “Emily? I thought you canceled your appointment,” she said. I froze. Canceled? I didn’t cancel anything.
Just then, the hairdresser came over and explained that she had received a call earlier that day, supposedly from my “mom,” canceling my appointment. My heart sank, and that’s when I saw her—Carla—sitting there, getting her own hair done, with a smirk on her face. She had canceled my appointment to ruin my day.
Desperate, I asked the stylist if she could fit me in anyway, but there were no openings left. I walked out of the salon in a daze, devastated. My perfect prom night was unraveling before my eyes, and by the time I got home, I was in tears, locked in my room, trying and failing to do my own hair. It looked awful, and I felt defeated. I didn’t even want to go to prom anymore.
But just when I thought the night was ruined, I heard loud honking outside. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was just a car passing by. But it didn’t stop, so I dragged myself to the window—and my jaw dropped. A sleek black limousine was parked in front of our house. Was this for me?
I ran downstairs just as the driver stepped out and asked for “Miss Emily.” My dad, confused, handed me a small card. Inside, in neat handwriting, it read: To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. Love, Mason.
Mason? My 11-year-old stepbrother had planned all of this! He overheard Carla canceling my hair appointment, so he took matters into his own hands. Using money Carla had stashed away for a fancy necklace she wanted, Mason rented the limo and even arranged for a neighbor’s daughter—who worked as a stylist—to come over and do my hair and makeup.
Twenty minutes later, I went from crying in my room to looking like a princess. I couldn’t believe Mason had done all of this for me. When Carla pulled into the driveway and saw me stepping into the limo, her face turned red with shock. She had no idea how Mason had outsmarted her, and I wished I had a picture of her expression to hang on my mirror!
Prom turned out to be everything I had hoped for. When I arrived at the venue in the limo, heads turned, and I felt like a star. For the first time in a long while, I felt my mom’s presence with me, and the night was pure magic. As for Carla, I hope she learned her lesson—you can’t mess with someone’s happiness and expect to get away with it, especially when their little brother is there to save the day!
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