I’m 22. I lost my mom to breast cancer when I was eight. My dad fell apart, and my grandparents moved into the Boston home they owned to help raise me. It was supposed to be our safe place.
Two years later, my dad met Tracy at a conference. Six months after meeting, they were married, and she moved in with her two kids, Brandon (25) and Sierra (21).
At first, Tracy seemed nice. Then she slowly took over—criticizing my grandparents, changing the house, and pushing me into doing most of the chores while her kids did nothing. My dad paid for everything for them. I worked part-time, took classes, and stayed out of the way.
Weeks ago, Tracy sat me down and said I needed to pay $800 a month in rent plus utilities because it “wasn’t fair” for me to live there for free. When I asked if Brandon and Sierra would also pay, she said, “That’s different. They’re my children.”
Here’s what she didn’t know:
Years ago, my grandparents quietly transferred the house into a trust in my name. The four-bedroom home in one of Boston’s nicest neighborhoods—the one now worth about $1.2 million—legally belongs to me.
So I called everyone into the dining room and let Tracy explain her new “rent policy.” Then I calmly said, “I’m not paying rent. This house is mine.”
They laughed.
Until I put my dad on speaker with the attorney and had the paperwork read aloud.
Long story short: I gave them formal notice. Tracy, Brandon, and Sierra had to leave. My dad is still processing everything.
I didn’t plan for revenge. I just refused to keep being treated like hired help in my own home.