Ryan gets suspicious when his dog races into the church and starts barking at his father’s coffin. Seeing the dog in an alert position, Ryan opens the casket, only to find his father’s body missing.
Ryan climbed out of the car and stood outside the church, knowing he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his father. “We couldn’t even give Dad a proper funeral,” he thought. Suddenly, Bella’s sharp bark distracted him.
Ryan turned to his car, where Bella was more agitated than usual.
“Bella!” He gave her a hand signal to lie down, and she obeyed. He patted her head through the open car window. “Now, stay, Bella.”
Ryan then walked away, ignoring Bella’s whine, and entered the church. His father Arnold’s casket was already in place, closed, and the funeral director had discretely cordoned off the immediate area because Arnold had died of an infectious disease.
Ryan sat beside his mother. Arnold would be cremated, not buried, given the circumstances of his death.
Just as the mass ended and mourners rose to sing the final hymn, Bella’s bark echoed through the church. She jumped on the casket, knocking the flower arrangement to the floor, and began barking loudly.
When Bella sat in her alert position on the floor and stared at him, Ryan sensed something was off.
“Open the casket!” he demanded.
A gasp rang out in the gathering. Ryan didn’t care. He walked over to the casket and opened it, only to find it empty.
“Wh-Where’s my brother?” His uncle stared at the funeral director.
Ryan’s mother couldn’t stand what was happening. Her eyes rolled back in her skull, and her knees gave way. Ryan caught her just in time before her head hit the marble floor. He rushed her to the hospital.
At his mother’s house, Ryan called the police.
“At this point, all we know is that the coroner confirmed the cause of death and released the remains to the funeral home,” Detective Bradshaw told him. “Was your father involved in any activities I should be aware of?”
Ryan hadn’t been involved in his father’s business since he opened his dog training and rehabilitation center. But he knew Arnold would never put his or the company’s reputation at stake.
Since there was no vital lead yet, Detective Bradshaw left, promising to be in touch with updates. But Ryan didn’t want to wait. The hospital was keeping his mom overnight. He left Bella at home and went to the morgue to find answers.
“The coroner resigned? What about the new coroner?” Ryan was baffled when the nurse at the reception informed him there was no new coroner yet. He asked to see his father’s file, but the nurse refused, saying it was against policies.
Ryan knew how to convince her. He set $1000 on the counter, and she turned a blind eye when he slipped inside the coroner’s office. He started searching the shelves for his father’s file, but it was futile. Arnold’s file was missing.
Ryan was frustrated. Suddenly, his buzzing phone distracted him. It was his father’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens. The older man informed Ryan that he was the new CEO of Arnold’s company and wanted to see him urgently.
As Ryan arrived at his father’s office, he opened Arnold’s Gmail on the office computer, only to find the inbox empty. Someone had deleted the messages.
“Ryan! Good to see you,” Mr. Stevens entered the room and shut the door behind him.
“Who’s been using this computer?” Ryan asked him.
“Nobody,” Mr. Stevens replied.
“Wait, where are the dancers?” Ryan noticed two figurines were missing from his father’s office.
“Oh, he took them home. Poor Arnold…he could never get the third figurine in the set. Can you believe the man who owns it won’t accept anything less than half a million?” Mr. Stevens said.
Ryan was sure Arnold hadn’t taken them home. He’d been all through his parents’ house since he arrived for the funeral, and he hadn’t seen those dancers anywhere.
“But anyway, we have more important matters to discuss…” Mr. Stevens informed Ryan that they were in severe debt, and several investors were threatening to pull their investments because Arnold had been missing meetings with them for months before his death.
“…and it all started when his new secretary began working here. With all due respect to Arnold and his family, I believe he was having a romantic relationship with her,” Mr. Stevens revealed.
Ryan lost his cool as the thought of his mother’s sad face crossed his mind. He would’ve confronted his father’s secretary if Mr. Stevens hadn’t stopped him—It would only tarnish Arnold’s reputation.
Ryan spent the day sorting out the debt problem and sent gift baskets to the most vital investors. After work, he followed his father’s secretary, Miss Pearson, and saw her pull into the garage of a modest suburban home. She was his only lead until now, so he waited outside her house in his car.
Sometime later, the whirring noise of her garage door awoke him. He saw her head in the direction of the city in her car and wanted to follow her. But then he had a better idea. He leaped from his car and managed to get inside her garage just in time before the door closed. There, he found a doorway leading into her house.
He found the kitchen first, searched the drawers, and found a flashlight. He didn’t want to turn on the lights in case Miss Pearson came home suddenly. His heart sank when he entered her bedroom and saw a framed photo of her kissing Arnold on the nightstand.
Ryan maintained his composure, reminding himself he was here to find a lead that would help him figure out what happened to his father. He searched Miss Pearson’s house but couldn’t find anything. Dejected, he was about to leave when he noticed a slightly open drawer in the coffee table.
A Manila envelope there interested him. Inside it was Arnold’s life insurance policy for $7 million, and the sole beneficiary was…Miss Pearson! Ryan took the document and drove to the police station.
“This is quite compelling…” Detective Bradshaw said, looking at the document. “Let me see what else I can find out about this Pearson woman.”
Ryan was seated near the front desk when she approached him with a team of officers. Turned out Miss Pearson was booked on a flight to Morocco, which would leave in half an hour.
“Since the US has no extradition treaty with the Moroccan government, it’s vital we bring her in for questioning before she boards the plane!”
Ryan wanted to accompany the officers, but Detective Bradshaw refused because he was a civilian. Ryan didn’t listen to her and followed her.
“Police!” Detective Bradshaw yelled as she and her team approached a boarding gate. “Let us through!”
Ryan slipped past the airport security officers by blending with the group, and they proceeded to the boarding area. The cops immediately spread out and started checking the passengers.
“You there! The dark-haired woman in the white shirt! Step out of the line and raise your hands in the air,” Detective Bradshaw yelled.
Ryan was relieved they’d caught Miss Pearson, but his smile faded when the woman turned around. She was not Miss Pearson. The cops continued the search for hours, but Miss Pearson was gone.
Ryan was back to square one. But somewhere in his heart, he knew Arnold was alive. Ryan knew the figurines weren’t at his mother’s house. Wherever his father was, he must’ve taken the figurines with him. Ryan looked up the collector who had the third figurine online and visited him.
“So…how much will you take for it?” he asked, pointing to the figurine.
“$750,000,” the collector, Mr. Frederick, replied.
“That’s far above the market value for the artist’s work, sir.”
“Then don’t buy it. The price is non-negotiable, young man!”
Ryan had to have it, so he requested time to arrange the money. He returned to his car, dialed Mr. Stevens, and said he wanted to sell $750,000 worth of his shares in the company.
“But then you won’t have a controlling stake in the company, Ryan!” Mr. Stevens said.
“I’m aware, Mr. Stevens, but this is urgent,” Ryan explained. “I need the cash immediately, but if I’m right, I should be able to buy back those shares within the week.”
“Ryan,” Mr. Stevens eventually replied in a measured tone, “as a major stakeholder and legal advisor for the company, I get the feeling it would behoove me not to ask questions about why you need such a large amount of money at such short notice.”
“As a longtime family friend, however,” Mr. Stevens continued, “I must know if this is related to the suspicion I shared with you about Miss Pearson.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Ryan replied.
Mr. Stevens sighed. “She’s also disappeared, you know…didn’t turn up for work today, and her phone number no longer exists. I’ll get you the money…best you not ask me the details…and wire it to you ASAP.”
When Ryan received the message that the money was in his account, he rushed inside to speak to Mr. Frederick. The older man muttered something about how the figurine was worth more than his asking price since it was the only available piece of the set, but Ryan cut him off.
“You asked for $750 000, sir, and that’s what I’m giving you, effective immediately. Are you not a man of your word, Mr. Frederick?”
Mr. Frederick finally agreed to sell the figurine. Ryan was now ready for the next step. He called a few people from his car and made a quick stop before returning to his mother’s house.
“Where on earth have you been, Ryan?” his mother asked. “I return from the hospital to find the house empty, and poor Bella bored out of her mind. Your dog misses you; I really can’t keep her busy enough, and I’ve barely seen you since the funeral…”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he muttered. “Please just trust that what I’ve been doing is very important. It will also be over very soon.”
Ryan stood behind a pillar near the back of the auction house’s main bidding area and studied the crowd. The figurine he’d bought was the next lot up for bid. He glanced toward the podium as it was brought to the front.
As the price climbed, the number of participants whittled down to just two. One was an overweight man with a prominent nose, and the other was a tall, white-haired man in a navy suit. Neither of them was his father.
Ryan had insisted on anonymity and personally paid for several adverts to ensure his father, wherever he might be, would know that the figurine was on auction today.
“$600,000 going once,” the auctioneer declared.
Ryan’s heart sank. He feared that not only would he lose his bait and miss the chance to find his father, but he would also make a huge loss on the figurine.
“…going twice…”
“$1 million!”
Ryan got goosebumps at the sound of his father’s voice. He stared in shock as Arnold rose from a seat near the back of the auction room and removed his wide-brimmed hat.
“$1 million going once…going twice…sold to the man in the beige coat!” The auctioneer banged his gavel.
Immediately, Arnold put his hat back on and headed for the door. Ryan rushed around the edge of the room and blocked his path. Then Detective Bradshaw stepped forward and handcuffed Arnold.
“Ryan?” Arnold frowned at Ryan. “You tricked me! This was a trap!”
“Don’t act like I’ve committed some terrible betrayal, Dad! You’re the one who had an affair and faked your own death so you could run off with your mistress! How could you?”
Arnold hung his head as he confessed that he was tired of his old life and wanted to start a new one with his new love, Miss Pearson.
“So you took out a huge amount in life insurance for your new life, bribed the coroner to falsify your death certificate and cause of death, and had all of us gather around an empty casket to mourn you!” Ryan hissed.
“‘A man should do what is right, not follow his own selfish interests.’ You taught me that, Dad. I’m sorry you couldn’t follow your own principles, but I hope you realize that your failure to do so led to your downfall.”
Detective Bradshaw assured Ryan that Miss Pearson would be caught soon, too. Then Arnold was taken away to the police car.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
My Stepmom Stole $5,000 from My College Fund to Install Veneers for Herself — Karma Hit Her Hard
Who steals from their daughter? My stepmom did. She swiped $5K from my college fund for veneers. For a perfect Hollywood smile. But karma hit faster than a dental drill, leaving her with more regret than glam.
They say money can’t buy happiness, but my stepmom sure thought it could buy a million-dollar smile. The kicker? She stole from my college fund (which was set up by my late mom) to install her veneers and acted like it wasn’t a big deal. But don’t worry! Sit back, relax, and let me tell you about the day karma grew teeth and bit back.
A distressed teenage girl lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
I’m Kristen, your average 17-year-old with dreams bigger than my stepmom’s ego. My mom passed away when I was young, but she left behind a college fund. It wasn’t huge, but it was a start to secure my future.
My dad, Bob, and I had been adding to it ever since, mostly from my part-time gigs tutoring kids who think “Pi” is something you eat with ice cream. And some babysitting, which paid me weekly.
Everything went well until, ta-da — enter Tracy, my stepmother and the human embodiment of a selfie stick.
An elegant senior lady holding a glass of wine | Source: Pexels
This woman spends more time in front of the mirror than a mime pretending to be trapped in a box. I swear, if vanity were an Olympic sport, Tracy would make Narcissus look like an amateur.
She’s so obsessed with appearances. Her clothes, hair, and nails always have to be perfect. It’s like she’s trying to be a real-life Barbie. (Sorry, Barbie!)
She spends hours in front of the mirror but never has time for anything that really matters, like, oh I don’t know, being a decent human. It’s like she’s got a mirror installed in her brain.
A senior woman applying lipstick | Source: Pexels
One fateful day, I came home to find Tracy grinning like she’d just won the lottery.
“Kristen, darling!” she chirped, her voice sweeter than a hummingbird’s diet. “Guess what your amazing stepmom is going to do?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Finally learn how to use the washing machine without flooding the laundry room?”
A young girl crossing her arms | Source: Midjourney
Tracy’s smile faltered for a microsecond before returning full force. “No, silly! I’m getting veneers! Isn’t that fabulous?”
“Uh, congrats?” I muttered, wondering why this warranted a full-blown announcement.
“Oh, don’t look so glum!” she gushed. “This is cause for celebration! And the best part? I found a way to make it happen without breaking the bank.”
That’s when my stomach dropped faster than a skydiver with a faulty parachute. “What do you mean?”
A senior woman sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
Tracy’s smile widened like a Cheshire cat, except her teeth looked more like a set of construction cones dipped in mustard.
“Well, I borrowed a little from your college fund. Just $5,000!”
I stood there, mouth agape, feeling like I’d just been sucker-punched by the Tooth Fairy on steroids. “You did WHAT? You STOLE my college fund?”
Tracy rolled her eyes dramatically. “Stole? I’m family. It’s not a big deal, honey!”
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“You had NO RIGHT! That money’s for my future. My mom set it up for me.”
“Oh, save the theatrics! It’s just money. And your father agreed to it,” Tracy winked.
Now, that was a lie bigger than her future dental bill. Dad wouldn’t agree to this in a million years. He’s more likely to willingly sit through a marathon of Tracy’s favorite reality TV shows.
A furious young girl frowning | Source: Midjourney
I stormed out, slamming my bedroom door hard enough to make the house shake. I immediately called Dad, who was just as shocked as I was.
“I’ll talk to her,” he promised. In Dad’s terms, that meant “I’ll mention it once and hope it magically resolves itself.”
A few weeks later, Tracy got her veneers. She strutted around the house like she was America’s Next Top Model, flashing her new teeth at every opportunity. It was like living with a deranged lighthouse.
A young lady talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, Kristen,” she cooed one evening, “don’t forget to smile at your little tutoring class. Although,” she paused, giving me a once-over, “maybe you should keep your mouth closed. You wouldn’t want to scare those kids away with those ugly alligator teeth of yours!”
I bit my tongue so hard I thought I might need veneers myself. “Right,” I muttered. “Because blowing five grand on fake choppers is totally normal, yeah?”
Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Missy. Remember who puts a roof over your head.”
“Pretty sure that’s still Dad,” I shot back, slamming the door behind me.
A closed door upstairs | Source: Pexels
A month after her “transformation,” Tracy decided to throw a BBQ to show off her new chompers to the entire neighborhood. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion but with more potato salad.
“Ladies, gather ’round!” Tracy announced on the fateful day, clinking her wine glass with a spoon. “I simply must tell you about my transformation!”
Yeah, more like a sci-fi metamorphosis from yellow-stained vampire fangs to a Hollywood smile! I rolled my eyes so hard I could practically see my brain.
A smiling senior woman holding a wine glass and bottle | Source: Pexels
“It’s all thanks to the marvelous Dr. Kapoor,” Tracy gushed. “He’s not just a dentist, he’s an artist! A smile sculptor! A tooth whisperer!”
“Did he whisper to your wallet too?” I muttered under my breath.
Tracy continued, oblivious to my sarcasm. “And of course, some smart investments made it all possible!”
I nearly choked on my lemonade. Smart investments? Is that what we’re calling theft these days?
Two elegantly dressed women laughing | Source: Pexels
Just then, Tracy set her wine glass down and reached for a piece of corn on the cob. “You know, ladies, life is all about taking chances and—”
C-R-A-C-K!
The sound echoed across the backyard like a gunshot. Tracy’s eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth faster than you could say “dental disaster.”
“Oh my God, Tracy! Are you okay?” one of her friends gasped.
But Tracy was far from okay. There, nestled in the butter of her corn on the cob, was one of her precious veneers and whatever was left of her rotten tooth. The gap in her smile was so big, it could swallow a whole lollipop!
Close-up of a shocked woman with a missing tooth | Source: Midjourney
“I… I…” Tracy stammered, suddenly sounding like she was auditioning for the role of Sylvester the Cat. “Ekthcuthe me!”
She bolted into the house, leaving behind a yard full of bewildered guests and one very satisfied stepdaughter trying desperately not to burst into maniacal laughter.
The aftermath was more glorious than I could have imagined. Tracy became a dental hermit, refusing to leave the house. When she finally called Dr. Kapoor, I overheard a conversation that was music to my ears and nails on a chalkboard to hers.
A young lady laughing | Source: Midjourney
“What do you mean it’ll cotht more to fikth?” Tracy shrieked into the phone. “Thith ith your fault! You thaid thethe were top quality!”
Turns out, Tracy had opted for the bargain basement veneers. The cherry on the cake? She would have to pay a hefty chunk to redo the whole veneer! Karma, as they say, is a witch with a capital B, and she had just given Tracy a dental spanking.
Dad, finally growing a backbone (I checked outside for flying pigs), confronted Tracy that evening.
“We need to talk about Kristen’s college fund,” he said, his voice firm (for the first time in a very looooong time! Way to go, Daddy!)
A senior man frowning | Source: Midjourney
Tracy, still hiding her broken smile behind her hand, tried to deflect. “Bob, honey, now’th not the thime. Can’t you thee I’m in a crithith?”
Dad stood his ground. “Crisis? You? No, Tracy. This ends now. You’re going to pay back every cent you took from Kristen’s fund. And if you can’t… well, I think we need to reevaluate this whole situation.”
For the first time since I’d known her, Tracy looked genuinely scared. It was like watching a deer in the headlights (if the deer had really bad dental work and a speech impediment!)
A serious-looking senior woman sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
In the weeks that followed, Tracy became a recluse that would make even the most solitary monk seem like a party animal.
The neighborhood buzzed with gossip about her “dental disaster,” and she couldn’t show her face without someone asking about her “million-dollar thmile.”
As for me? Well, Dad made good on his promise. He’s been working overtime to rebuild my college fund, and Tracy’s been suspiciously quiet about her spending habits.
Close-up of a man holding money | Source: Pexels
I guess it’s hard to argue when you sound like you’re trying to whistle through a mouthful of marbles.
The other day, I caught her staring longingly at a magazine ad for dental implants. I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a little payback.
“Hey, Tracy,” I called out, flashing her my perfectly imperfect “alligator-tooth” smile. “Need thome invethment advithe?”
She scowled and stomped off, but I swear I saw Dad trying to hide a smirk.
A young lady standing in a room | Source: Midjourney
So yeah, my stepmom stole $5,000 from my college fund for a set of fake teeth that made her sound like she was auditioning for the role of the Big Bad Wolf with a speech impediment. But in the end? Karma gave her something to really chew on…
And me? I learned that sometimes, the most valuable things in life aren’t the ones you can buy. They’re the lessons you learn along the way, and the satisfaction of watching justice being served, one broken veneer at a time.
A young lady lying in bed | Source: Midjourney
Plus, I now have enough material to write a bestselling memoir: From Fangs to Fortune: How My Stepmom’s Dental Disaster Saved My College Fund.” How is it?
And who knows? Maybe I’ll even dedicate it to Tracy. After all, without her, I wouldn’t have this toothsome tale to tell.
A young lady laughing | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply