Part 1: 

My stepmother laughed at the prom dress my little brother made for me from our late mother’s old jeans. By the end of the night, everyone finally saw exactly who she really was.

I’m seventeen. My younger brother Noah is fifteen.

Our mom passed away when I was twelve. Dad remarried Carla two years later, and after Dad died suddenly from a heart attack last year, everything in the house changed overnight.

Carla took control of everything — the bills, the bank accounts, the mail. Mom had left money behind for Noah and me, and Dad always said it was meant for important moments: college, school expenses, milestones.

Apparently, Carla had decided those things no longer mattered.

About a month before prom, I mentioned I needed a dress.

Carla barely looked up from her phone.

“Prom dresses are a stupid waste of money.”

“Mom left money for things like this,” I reminded her.

She gave a cold little laugh.

“That money keeps this house running now. And honestly? Nobody wants to see you parading around in some overpriced princess dress.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“So there’s money for your salon appointments but not this?”

“Watch your attitude.”

“You’re spending our money.”

She slammed her hand against the counter and stood up.

“I’m the one keeping this family afloat. You have no idea how expensive life is.”

“Dad said the money belonged to us.”