My stepmother was secretly using my little sister’s Christmas money, and I made her regret it.

When Joan settled in for a quiet evening watching movies with her little sister, she expected laughter and bonding, not a shocking confession. Beverly revealed that her stepmother, Sofia, had taken her Christmas money. Joan knew she had to expose that betrayal in the most unforgettable way.

“Let it go! Let it go!” Beverly sang, following the lyrics of Elsa, her small voice rising and falling with excitement. She was curled up next to me on the couch, hugging her favorite blanket.

It was our first moment of calm since I came home for Christmas break, and I was savoring every second.

“Is it still your favorite movie, huh?” I joked, tousling her soft, brown hair.

She laughed joyfully. “Always.”

Beverly was only eight years old, but she had already been through a lot. After mom passed away two years ago, we were left alone for a while. Then came Sofia. She wasn’t cruel, but she was distant. She smiled when dad was around, but when we were alone, her patience was minimal. I left for college a year later, leaving Beverly behind, which broke my heart.

But now we were together watching her favorite movie for the umpteenth time.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” I asked casually.

She nodded excitedly. “Yes! Dad got me a doll. Sofia gave me pencils.”

“Pencils?” I frowned.

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “The kind with weird shapes. They’re nice.”

I felt a pang in my chest. “And grandma and grandpa? Or Aunt Liz? Didn’t they give you anything?”

“They gave me money,” she answered, her voice dropping.

I smiled. “That’s great, Bev! What are you going to buy?”

Her face scrunched up as she fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t have it?” I leaned in closer.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sofia took it. She said she had too many presents. She used it to go shopping because Christmas dinner was too expensive.”

My stomach turned. “Wait… all the money?”

She nodded. “I had three hundred dollars, but Sofia said she didn’t know how to spend it well.”

“Who gave you the money? Are you sure how much you had?” I asked, trying to keep calm.

“Grandma gave me $100, Grandpa gave me $100, and Aunt Liz gave me $100. We counted it all at grandma’s house before we came back,” she said.

“And then Sofia took it?” I pressed.

“She said she’d keep it for me, but she never gave it back,” Beverly whispered, staring at her hands.

My blood was boiling. How could an adult woman take money from an eight-year-old and justify it with “shopping”?

“Are you sure she used it for Christmas dinner?” I asked.

“That’s what she said, but I saw her new purse at the mall,” Beverly whispered.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Bev, thank you for telling me. I’m really sorry, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” she asked, her big eyes fixed on me.

I smiled confidently. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

That night, as I lay on my bed, I planned my next move. Confronting Sofia alone wouldn’t work; she’d deny everything or try to justify herself. I needed witnesses.

The next morning, I sent a message to dad:

“Can we have a family dinner tomorrow before I go back to college? It’d be nice to all get together one last time.”

“Sure! I’ll take care of everything,” he replied.

I smiled. My plan was already in motion.

The night of the dinner, the table sparkled with candlelight. Everyone had finished eating, and the smell of baked ham and apple pie filled the air. Dad was laughing with grandpa’s jokes, and grandma was adjusting her glasses while drinking coffee. Sofia, sitting across from me, seemed relaxed, talking about her “amazing deals” after the holidays.

I waited for the right moment.

“Can I say something before we finish?” I asked, catching everyone’s attention.

Dad nodded. “Of course, go ahead.”

I smiled and looked at Beverly. “Everyone knows how much Beverly loves riding her scooter, right?”

Grandpa laughed. “She’s always running around with that thing!”

“Well, turns out Beverly dreamed of buying a bike for Christmas. You all were so generous in giving her money for that,” I said, letting the words sink in. “But there’s something strange… Beverly doesn’t have that money anymore.”

Sofia’s face tightened.

“What do you mean?” Dad asked, frowning.

“Sofia took it. All three hundred dollars,” I said firmly.

A heavy silence filled the room. Finally, dad broke the silence. “Is this true, Sofia?”

She tried to justify herself, but dad was clearly furious. He promised to return the money to Beverly immediately.

That night, the lost money not only made its way back to my little sister’s hands, but it was also clear that dishonesty would not be tolerated in our family. Beverly smiled as she counted each bill, and I felt proud for standing up for what was right.

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