The Revenge of the Stepmom
From the moment Josh moved in with us, he made it clear—I was the villain in his story.
I was married to David for five years when his 16-year-old son came to live with us. And boy, did Josh hate me.
If I suggested watching a movie, he’d scoff, “Like I’d waste my time on your lame picks.” If I cooked his favorite meal, he’d push it away. “This tastes nothing like Mom’s.”
Every time he said “Mom,” it was like a knife twisting in my chest.
“You’re not my mom,” he’d snap if I so much as asked about his day. “Stop pretending.”
He mocked my age (I was only 12 years older than him), my hobbies (“Who even paints watercolors anymore?”), and my small-town roots (*”Bet Ohio was *real* exciting.”*).
Every word was a barb, and every barb drew blood.
I tried not to cry in front of him, but sometimes, when David found me sobbing in our room, he’d just sigh. “He’ll come around. He’s just hurt.”
Yeah? Well, so was I.
The College Fund That Backfired
When Josh’s senior year rolled around, David started stressing about tuition. Josh had decent grades, but not scholarship-level, and David’s business wasn’t doing great.
That’s when I saw my chance—not to buy his love, but to give him something I never had: a real shot at a future.
One night, I sat them both down.
“I know college is expensive,” I said carefully. “I want to help. I can pay for your tuition.”
Josh looked up from his phone like I’d just offered him a pile of dirt.
“You can’t buy your way into being my mom.”
The words stung. But what hurt worse?
David nodding in agreement. “He’s right.”
Just like that, my kindness was twisted into some pathetic attempt to buy his love.
So I backed off. Completely.
When Josh struggled with community college and part-time jobs, I stayed silent. When David fretted over his son’s future, I kept my mouth shut.
I’d learned my place.
Five Years Later… The Phone Call
Then, out of nowhere—Josh called me.
I nearly dropped my phone. He’d never called me before. Not once.
“I’ve got news,” he said, no hello, no small talk. “I’m marrying Kelsey. Dad must’ve told you.”
“Congratulations,” I said, wary.
“Here’s the thing,” he continued. “Kelsey wants a destination wedding in Costa Rica. It’s expensive, so we’re asking family to chip in.”
I waited.
“We’re only inviting close family,” he added, *”so obviously, you won’t be there. But if you *actually* care about this family, you’ll help.”*
I almost laughed. “Let me get this straight—you want me to pay for a wedding I’m not even invited to?”
Silence. Then—click. He hung up.
When I told David, he looked at me like I was the problem.
“Why wouldn’t you help? This is your chance to fix things!”
“Fix things?” I stared at him. “By paying for a wedding I’m not good enough to attend?”
David’s face darkened. *”You’re being selfish. This is about *family.“
Then, the final blow: “Maybe… maybe I should reconsider our marriage.”
My blood turned to ice.
All those years flashed before me—every insult, every cruel jab, every time David let Josh treat me like dirt.
Family. What a joke.
I smiled coldly. “Fine. Let’s have dinner. You, me, Josh, and Kelsey. I’ll bring a check.”
David grinned, reaching for me. I stepped back.
Oh, they thought they had me cornered?
They had no idea what was coming.
The Dinner That Changed Everything
That Friday, David set the table like we were hosting royalty.
Josh and Kelsey arrived late, strutting in like they owned the place. Josh had grown into a sharper, colder version of David.
“This is so nice!” Kelsey chirped, though her eyes were scanning our house for dollar signs. *”Josh has told me *so* much about you.”*
Doubtful.
Dinner was awkward until Kelsey started gushing about wedding plans—floral arches, custom menus, a beachfront venue.
“We’re looking at around $75,000,” she said, like it was nothing.
I wiped my mouth and stood. “I have something for you.”
I walked to my office, past the watercolors Josh had mocked, past the photos where I was always an outsider.
When I returned, I dropped a folder on the table.
“What’s this?” Josh scowled.
“A contract,” I said. “There’s a check inside—more than enough for your wedding. But first, read the terms.”
Josh snatched it up. His face darkened as he read.
“In exchange for this money,” I said calmly, “you will acknowledge me as your mother. I will be at every family event—your wedding, holidays, everything. You’ll call me Mom. And you’ll treat me with respect.”
Silence.
Kelsey gasped. “This is insane!”
But Josh didn’t push it away. He stared at the check.
Then—he grabbed a pen.
He signed with a furious scribble and glared at me. “Happy now?”
I smiled. *”Very. Because you just proved I *could* buy my way into being your mom. I just had to find the right price.”*
His face went red.
I picked up the contract—and tossed it into the fireplace. The flames swallowed the paper, the check turning to ash.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Josh roared.
From under a decorative bowl, I pulled out another envelope. I slid it to David.
“Divorce papers,” I said. “Turns out, I’ve been reconsidering our marriage too.”
David’s jaw dropped. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be part of a family where my only worth is as an ATM.”
I turned and walked away—past the fancy dishes, past the years of rejection, past the people who never saw me as anything but a wallet.
At the door, I glanced back.
“Good luck with the wedding,” I said. “Hope you find someone else willing to pay for your love.”
Some things can’t be bought.
But the people who try to sell them?
They show you exactly who they really are.
