When my stepmom Trudy turned 45, she threw a birthday bash so over-the-top it looked like a royal affair. I’m Mia—sixteen, broke, and stuck playing servant while she played queen. Her birthday wish? A dishwasher—from me. I said I was saving for prom, and she laughed, telling me I could start by washing the dishes myself.
By the end of the night, I was elbow-deep in suds while her guests clinked glasses behind me. I felt small, embarrassed, and furious. But the next morning, karma showed up early. Trudy’s greasy cooking had clogged the pipes, and when she dumped drain cleaner down the sink, the whole kitchen flooded.
My dad walked into the chaos and completely lost it. Repairs cost thousands, appliances were ruined, and Trudy’s credit cards were cut on the spot. “No more nonsense,” Dad declared. “But I do have $500 saved—for Mia’s prom dress.” Trudy was speechless. She offered to help me shop, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
In the end, karma didn’t just visit—she moved in. The w
