My Stepmom Mocked My Mom’s Lake House
When my mom passed away, she left me her lake house—a place filled with memories of summer mornings, marshmallow roasts, and Mom’s art on the shore. After her death, it became sacred to me. I vowed to keep it exactly as she left it.
But when my dad remarried Carla less than a year later, everything changed. She mocked Mom, threw out quilts and paintings, and filled the house with sterile, modern décor. Her friends sneered at Mom’s art, cooking, and garden.
At 21, the lake house became mine. I made it clear: no one else was allowed. Carla smirked, calling it Mom’s “little fairy cottage.”
This year, on the fifth anniversary of Mom’s death, I arrived for a quiet day—and found four cars, loud music, and Carla hosting a party inside. Someone even rested their feet on Mom’s embroidered pillow. I felt my heart break—but a plan began forming in my mind.