When I came downstairs for prom in my dream dress, I found my stepmother, Carol, standing in our living room wearing the exact same outfit. She claimed it was to “support” me, but the cruel smirk on her face told a different story. What happened next at prom exposed her true intentions and changed everything between us forever.
You know that feeling when something seems too good to be true? That’s how I should have felt about Carol from the start. But when you’re 14 and missing your mom, you want to believe in fairy tales.
You want to believe that maybe, just maybe, your dad found someone who could love you like a real daughter.
I was wrong.
Two years earlier…
After my mom passed away from cancer, Dad threw himself into work. I think it was his way of dealing with the grief.
That’s where he met Carol. She worked in accounting at his law firm.
She was pretty, I’ll give her that. Blonde hair always perfectly styled, a bright smile, and this sweet voice that made everyone trust her instantly.
“She’s been through a lot too,” Dad told me one evening over takeout pizza. “Her ex-husband left her when she was trying to have kids. She understands what it’s like to lose family.”
I wanted to be happy for him. Really, I did.
Dad deserved love after everything we’d been through. When he proposed to Carol after six months of dating, I even helped him pick out the ring.
“Are you okay with this, sweetheart?” he asked me that night. “I know it’s fast, but Carol makes me feel alive again. And she really wants to be a good stepmother to you.”
“If she makes you happy, Dad, then I’m happy,” I said. And I meant it.
The wedding was small. Just us, Carol’s sister, and a few family friends.
“Jocelyn, I promise to love you like my own daughter. We’re going to be a real family.”
I cried happy tears that day. Finally, things were looking up.
For the first few months, Carol really did try.
She’d pack my lunches with little notes that said “Have a great day!” She helped me with homework and even took me shopping for back-to-school clothes.
“Just us girls,” she’d say with a wink. “We need to stick together.”
But slowly, things started to change.
It was little things at first.
She’d forget to save me dinner when I had late soccer practice. She’d “accidentally” put my favorite sweater in the wrong load of laundry and shrink it.
