My Stepmom Destroyed the Skirt I Made from My Late Dad’s Ties—Karma Knocked on Our Door That Same Night

The first officer paused, looked at me standing there in my tie skirt, then back at Carla.

“Ma’am, I think you’ve got enough regrets to worry about tonight.”

They guided her into the back of the police car. The door shut with a solid thunk that echoed down our quiet street.

For a long moment after they drove away, the only sounds were crickets chirping and the distant hum of traffic. I stood in the doorway, staring at the empty street, the tie-skirt swaying softly around my legs in the night breeze.

Three months have passed since that night.

Carla’s court case is still ongoing, with prosecutors presenting evidence of over $40,000 in fraudulent claims.

Her lawyer keeps asking for continuances, but the judge seems tired of the delays.

Meanwhile, Dad’s mom, my grandmother, who I hadn’t seen much since the wedding, moved in with me. She arrived two days after Carla’s arrest with three suitcases and her cat, Buttons.

“I should have been here sooner,” she said, pulling me into a hug that smelled like lavender and home. “Your father would have wanted us together.”

Now the house feels alive again.

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