e all go through rough patches in our relationships, but when the hurt happens within the family, it cuts deeper. The bond we share with our relatives can make betrayal feel like a punch to the soul. While some wounds heal with time, others leave scars that never quite fade. That’s what happened to the girl in this story, whose stepmother crossed a line so bold, karma had no choice but to clap back—with teeth.
They say money can’t buy happiness, but apparently my stepmother thought it could buy her the smile of a Hollywood starlet. The twist? She raided my college savings—money my late mother set aside for my education—to fund her dream veneers. And acted like she was doing me a favor. But don’t worry. Grab a snack and settle in, because you’re about to hear how justice got a front-row seat.
I’m Kristen, 17, with ambitions taller than my stepmom’s designer heels. My mom passed away when I was a kid, but she left me a college fund to help build a future she wouldn’t be here to see.
Dad and I had kept it growing—thanks to my tutoring gigs and weekend babysitting. Every dollar I earned was another brick in the path to my dreams.
Enter Tracy. My dad’s new wife. Imagine a ring light with a driver’s license. Obsessed with herself, allergic to housework, and practically glued to her reflection. She spends more time posing than helping, and less time parenting than her fake nails spend drying.
One afternoon, I come home and there she is, grinning like she’s won a beauty pageant she hosted for herself.
“Kristen, sweetie!” she chirps. “Guess what your fabulous stepmom is doing?”
“Finally figured out how the dishwasher works?” I asked.
She chuckled, unfazed. “No, silly! I’m getting veneers! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Cool… and completely irrelevant to my life,” I muttered.
She twirled her hair and went, “Oh, but it’s all thanks to a little creative budgeting!”
I got that sinking feeling in my gut. “Creative how?”
She beamed. “I just borrowed a teensy bit from your college account. Only five grand!”
I stared at her, stunned. “You WHAT?! That’s my future!”
She shrugged like it was no biggie. “I mean, come on. We’re family. What’s mine is yours… and apparently what’s yours is also mine.”
“And Dad agreed to this?” I asked.
“Of course!” she lied faster than her nails could click a selfie.
Spoiler: Dad did not agree. I called him, furious, and he was just as blindsided.
Tracy got her teeth, though. And oh, did she love them. She strutted around like she was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. Every mirror in the house became her personal catwalk.
“Smile more, Kristen,” she’d coo. “Even if yours isn’t exactly model material.”
I wanted to scream. But I bit my tongue… because karma has better timing than I do.
About a month later, she hosted a neighborhood BBQ to show off her “new look.” It was basically a dental-themed fashion show with hot dogs.
She gave a speech—of course. “Ladies, my life has been transformed,” she said, flashing her veneers like headlights on high beam. “It’s all thanks to the artistry of Dr. Kapoor!”
Then, in her grand finale, she reached for a corn on the cob.
CRACK.
The sound was unforgettable. A sharp snap, followed by gasps. Tracy’s hand shot to her face in horror.
One of her veneers had popped off, taking a chunk of tooth with it. There it was, lying in the buttered corn like a tiny ivory tombstone.
Her friends gasped. Tracy bolted inside, muttering something that sounded like “I need a thithue!” through her lisp.
From then on, it was downhill. Tracy became a recluse, terrified someone would see her gappy grin. She called the dentist in a panic, only to find out fixing it would cost double—because she’d gone for a cut-rate version the first time.
Dad finally confronted her. “You’re going to pay Kristen back,” he said. “Every last cent. Or we’re going to have a very different conversation.”
I think that scared her more than losing another veneer.
Since then, Dad’s been rebuilding my college fund and Tracy’s been a whole lot quieter. She even canceled her weekly blowout appointment. Tragic.
The best part? I caught her looking at an ad for dental implants the other day. I couldn’t resist.
“Hey, Tracy,” I said, flashing a toothy grin. “Want me to help you with your next ‘investment plan’?”
She muttered something and walked away, but I swear Dad was trying not to laugh.
So yeah, my stepmom hijacked my college fund to fund her smile. But in the end? She got a dose of dental justice—and I got a story that’ll live rent-free in my memory forever.
Moral of the story? You can fake a smile, but you can’t fake karma. And when it hits? It bites back hard.
