16/09/2025
I'm 55F. I've basically been a single mom my whole life. My daughter Rachel's dad bailed when she was three. Years later, I married a man with a little girl, Emily. He died too soon, and I raised her as my own.
Two, sometimes three jobs. No vacations. No new clothes. Every spare cent went to them — private school, cars at 18, college help.
When they moved out, I finally thought about myself. I started tucking cash into a safe hidden in my closet wall. Ten years of birthdays, tax returns, tiny bonuses. Almost $50k. My dream? Retire early, maybe travel.
Then Rachel started visiting more. Coffee in hand. Asking about my retirement plans. Then she dropped it:
"Mom, give me your retirement money for a house. You OWE me. All my life I had to share you, share your money, with someone who's not even your blood. Do you know how that felt? I've earned this. And if you don't give it to me, don't expect me to look after you when you're old. You can rot in a nursing home for all I care."
I said no.
A week later, my safe was EMPTY. I knew who did it.
That night, my stepdaughter Emily found me frozen at the table.
"Mom… what happened?"
"It's gone. Rachel took all my savings."
Emily's face went cold. "Don't cry, please, give me an hour."
An hour later, I gasped as my front door slammed open. ⬇️