My teenage daughter never bought her dream sewing machine after months of saving every dime. My teenage daughter saved for months to purchase her ideal sewing machine, but she never dreamed her stepmother would ruin it in a cruel act. But when I found out, I knew I had to act, and with a great buddy, I gave her stepmother the best taste of karma she’d ever experienced.

After her years of subtle barbs and quiet cruelty to my kid, I never imagined I’d fight my ex-husband’s new wife. When she crossed the line, I knew I had to defend my kid in a manner she’d never forget. Return with me.

At 46, my daughter Mia is 16. She’s smart and artistic and wants to create clothes. She lives with me most weekends but visits her dad. She doesn’t like such weekends.

I broke up with Andrew, Mia’s father, long ago. Now, our relationship? Cordial yet remote. His goal has always been to be a “fun dad” rather than a responsible one. He remarried immediately after our divorce to Tracy, a cruel stepmother.

Tracy treats their home like a military camp with rigid regulations that everyone must follow. The independent, strong-willed Mia has always battled under her hard hand.

Tracy has crazy disciplinary beliefs. Mia must earn all her money and has no pocket money. Unfortunately, Andrew won’t give her money. His justification? “I pay for her schooling and feed her on weekends—isn’t that enough?”

I was pleased when Mia said she wanted to save for her ideal sewing machine. My ambitious kid acquired a part-time fabric shop job and perfectly balanced studies and employment. She worked hard and I promised to match her money to purchase the machine faster. Her happiness when she brought it home was priceless. It was her first true possession.

Mia spent every spare minute stitching, engulfed in her new love. She wanted to make her pastime her job. But Tracy? She hated it.

“You waste too much time on that contraption,” she said Mia, ignoring her love of stitching. “A useless distraction. Focus on housework!”

Every time Mia came home after the weekend, tension rose.

On a Friday night, she phoned me, crying so hard I couldn’t understand her. When she told me what occurred, I was furious.

“She threw it in the pool, Mom,” Mia said, shaking. It was because I didn’t clean the dishes quickly enough. I promised to continue later, but she thought I was fighting and punished me. She snatched it up and hurled it outside.”

My hands trembled. “You serious now?”

“I’ll be there right away, baby,” I murmured, attempting to stay cool while feeling like a volcano.

I grabbed my keys and ran to their home. I wasn’t allowed to pick up Mia because I left her there earlier that day, but it didn’t matter. I must safeguard my daughter.

Mia greeted me at the door with puffy, red eyes from sobbing. “She told me to learn. Dad stood still, Mom, without speaking.

My heart broke when I hugged her. I marched inside to meet the beast.

What broke my heart was that Andrew witnessed Tracy trash something Mia had worked hard for. Tracy’s usual arrogant, mocking grin appeared as she noticed me.

“Why are you here?” She inquired, folding her arms like a castle queen.

I breathed deeply and spoke steadily. I’m getting Mia’s stuff. You had no right to trash her hard work.”

Tracy was unblinking. It was distracting! She neglected her responsibilities to play with that ridiculous gadget. Perhaps she will finally grasp priorities.”

Mia stood behind me, clinched fists, her body trembling with agony and hatred. I saw her eyes and realized I had to do more than shout.

“Tracy,” I replied, approaching, my voice low and deliberate, “you think you’re teaching her responsibility? You’re not. You teach her pettiness and cruelty.”

Andrew eventually emerged from the kitchen, looking like he wanted to be somewhere. I believe you’re exaggerating this. Tracy was simply helping her concentrate on a sewing machine.”

Staring at him, my eyes burned. Andrew, this is why Mia avoids us. You let your wife do what she wants and don’t defend your daughter.”

He shuffled uneasily but said nothing. I looked at Tracy again. “You’re going to regret this,” I said coldly.

“Go pack your things, Mia,” I told my daughter. “I’m taking you home tonight.”

“I’ll bring her back when she’s ready,” I told Andrew and Tracy, who were flabbergasted.

After returning home, I comforted Mia as much as could. I made sure she was secure as we watched ridiculous comedies and ate popcorn on the sofa. I was planning inside. Tracy needs to learn a lasting lesson.

The following morning, I implemented my plan. Actor Sam, one of my best friends, owed me a favor. He could play the part wonderfully in his old police suit.

Tracy worked from home and relied on her laptop for her job, files, and life. It was her prized treasure. I thought she should experience losing something crucial.

I informed Mia about the idea, and to my amazement, my courageous, bold daughter was eager to participate. She was excited about Tracy finally getting her due.

We woke up early Sunday morning. I left Mia off at Andrew’s pretending to leave. I parked around the street and waited with Sam, who was fully dressed in his police gear.

Sam forcefully pounded on the main door. Tracy opened the door, appearing suspicious from my hiding location.

Sam handed her some very authentic-looking documents and stated, “Ma’am, I’m here to confiscate your laptop under an active investigation order.”

Tracy became white as snow. “What? No! There must be a mistake!” she said, worried about losing her laptop.

“I’m afraid not,” Sam said calmly, passing her. I’ll need the gadget now.”

She pleaded desperately, her voice breaking. “You can’t take it! My whole work is there! I don’t cite others!”

Sam shook his head sadly. “I know this is hard, ma’am, but there’s no negotiation.”

Holding her laptop to her chest, her hands shook fiercely and she almost fainted. Just then, Mia emerged from the kitchen, recording with her phone. She stared Tracy in the eye and said, “See how it feels to lose something that means the world to you?”

Tracy gasped and became crimson as she glanced from Mia to Sam. “Is this a twisted joke?”

That was my signal. I entered with a tranquil grin. “No joke. A well-deserved empathy lesson.”

Tracy’s lips quavered. “Not just—”

“Oh, but I can,” I said boldly, crossing my arms. “This is it. You will reimburse Mia for her sewing machine and apologize. If not, we’ll broadcast this video to show everyone—including your coworkers and friends—how you responded to losing something you loved. It will embarrass you beyond repair.”

Tracy searched everywhere, thinking Andrew would help her, but he was fishing. She sighed in despair as her shoulders dropped. “Fine.”

Stomping to get her checkbook, she was still blushing. The cheque was scrawled and pushed into Mia’s hand. “Sorry,” she said, avoiding our gaze.

My eyes saw Mia’s little grin of victory. “We’re done here,” I moved away.

We left, leaving Tracy to wallow in her shame. I told her Mia would live with me full-time for the foreseeable future and visit her dad when she was ready.

Mia laughed as we got in the vehicle. “That was epic, mom!”

Full of love, I gripped her hand. Sweetheart, no one gets away with mistreating my kid. Ever.”

Since then, Mia has only stayed at her father’s home when she wants to. Now they meet for coffee or the park on her schedule. What about Tracy? She’s been great, but I think she’ll never get over that morning.

Mia bought a new sewing machine with the money, and now it’s secure and loved at home.