Rich Parents Stole Millions from Their Daughter’s Inheritance, but Karma Taught Them a Lesson — Story of the Day

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My parents treated me like Cinderella, giving me nothing while my half-sister got everything. One day, I found out they had stolen my inheritance. This discovery started my plan for revenge. I would make sure they regretted treating me badly.

It was another sad morning. I woke up late in my small, makeshift bedroom in the pantry. Stepping out, I saw the living room was a disaster. Last night, Alice, my half-sister, had thrown a loud party that kept me up. Cups, plates, and decorations were everywhere.

I started cleaning, feeling left out and jealous of Alice. She always got everything: attention, parties, and gifts. On my 16th birthday, I got nothing. It’s always been like that. I’m 18 now, and I’ve gotten used to the lack of love and attention from our parents.

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As I cleaned, I heard Alice’s voice. “Did you just wake up?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, the music kept me up,” I replied, trying to stay calm.

“Are you blaming me? You know what will happen if our parents see this mess once they return from the cruise!” Alice snapped.

“Go to hell,” I said boldly, surprising myself. I had never talked back to her like that before.

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Alice’s face turned red as she tried to hit me, but I pushed her away.

“We’re done, Alice,” I said firmly. “I’m leaving. I’m 18, and I don’t have to stay here and be treated badly.”

Alice looked shocked. “You’ll regret this, Sarah,” she threatened.

Ignoring her, I went to pack my few clothes into a bag. My life’s belongings were so few they all fit into one small bag.

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But I still needed my documents from my parents’ room. It was a neat room I hardly ever entered. In their closet, I found a secret: my grandmother Amanda’s will. It said she had left me 2 million dollars. But my mom was supposed to manage it until I turned 18.

Reading the document, I realized my family had been using my money. My heart sank.

Then, hidden in an envelope, I found a letter from my grandmother and a true copy of her will. It said the money was only mine. My mom and Simon had lied and used my inheritance.

I felt furious. I decided they would face justice. I planned to go to the police and get back what was mine. No more being ignored; it was time for them to answer for their actions.

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Suddenly, Alice grabbed the envelope from my hands. Then, she locked herself in the bathroom. Through the door gap, I watched her tear up the letter and flush it down the toilet.

“What have you done?” I cried out.

“You can leave our house now,” Alice sneered as she stepped out.

I was crushed. My evidence was gone, but I couldn’t give up. I decided to find a lawyer who could help me.

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At the law office, I explained everything to the lawyer. “Without the original will, it’s tough to prove your claim,” he said sadly.

Feeling hopeless, I went to the cafe where my friend Mike worked. I told him everything.

“You should confront your parents,” Mike advised. “Demand what’s yours.”

Feeling empowered, I returned to my parents’ house.

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“I know about the will,” I declared. “I know you changed it.”

“Prove it,” my stepfather, Simon, laughed. “You have nothing that can prove the truth.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

“Get out of my house!” my mother then said. “Don’t show us your face ever again. It was you who chose to run away.”

“I will get back what’s mine,” I vowed as I left. They wouldn’t get away with this.

At the cafe, Mike was wiping the counter when I arrived. He noticed my upset expression. Sitting in my usual corner, I told him everything about my home confrontation. After my dad died, my mother showed her true colors. She married my stepfather, and they lived off my inheritance.

“I can’t believe they did that,” Mike said angrily.

“I want to take everything back,” I whispered. “And I want them to suffer like they did to me.”

Mike was surprised. “What’s your plan?”

“We’ll set up an underground poker club to trap my stepfather,” I explained. “We’ll use hidden cameras to cheat. I’ll guide you with an earpiece.”

“It’s risky, but you seem sure,” Mike said.

“I have nothing to lose,” I replied, and he agreed to help.

“How will we get Simon to come?” Mike asked.

“On my way here, I came up with the plan,” I said, explaining how Mike would lure Simon with fake money and tales of a lucrative poker club.

Mike was hesitant but finally agreed. “Let’s go all in,” he said, committing to the plan.

After selling my late father’s pendant at a pawn shop for $2,500, I got the money for setting up the club. Mike called later, excited.

“Simon took the bait. He’s coming tomorrow,” he said. “And I’ve managed to get some actors as well. But we’ll have to pay them.”

“Great,” I responded, relieved but nervous. “Don’t worry; we’ll get them their share.”

As I hung up the phone, I realized the magnitude of our plan. It was about justice now, not just money or revenge. I was ready.

In the basement of the coffee shop where Mike worked, we set up our trap. The dim room smelled of stale coffee, and we turned it into a secret poker club. We installed a poker table and hidden cameras to capture the card games.

The next night, the basement buzzed with tension. I watched from a small room filled with monitors, each showing a different angle of the poker table.

Simon, my stepfather, arrived confidently, carrying a suitcase full of money. “Mike, scratch your ear if you can hear me,” I whispered into the microphone. He did, signaling everything was ready.

The game began. I instructed the actors through the earpiece, letting Simon win at first to get him hooked.

As the game continued, Simon’s luck seemed to soar. “Today’s my day,” he declared, not knowing the game was rigged.

But soon, his luck changed. I manipulated the game from behind the scenes, guiding the actors to drain Simon’s money. He started betting recklessly — his watch, then his car.

Watching him lose, I felt a mix of power and justice. By the end, Simon had nothing left.

Then, he said he needed more money and left the poker game. “He’s going to lose everything,” I said through the earpiece.

Soon, Simon came back with another $500,000 in a suitcase. The game continued, and Simon’s money kept decreasing. Finally, he was left with nothing, crying over his losses. Despite his past cruelty, I felt unsettled seeing him so broken.

The next day, I visited my old house to get the only photo of me and my late dad. Inside, my mom and Alice were crying because Simon had lost everything in the game and was now in a coma with a brain tumor after suffering a heart attack. They needed money for his treatment but had none.

Feeling a need to help, I secretly left $200,000, the money my mom said Simon needed, under a floorboard in the pantry.

I’d carried a bag with me which had all the money. I was planning on leaving the city after getting my photo with Dad.

In the living room, I hinted to my mom about money hidden in the pantry. I told them I had seen Simon hide some cash in the pantry. She found it and was relieved.

Leaving the house, I knew I had made the right choice to help them, choosing compassion over revenge. It was time to start a new chapter, one where the shadows of the past no longer lingered over me.

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