My Stepmom Wanted Rent—But I Turned the Tables
I was fourteen when my mom died, just months after divorcing my dad. She had been my anchor. After she was gone, Dad buried himself in work, and I drifted. A year later he remarried. Karen swept in with perfume, bright lipstick, and forced smiles. She redecorated, cooked showy dinners, and called my mom’s keepsakes…
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