Stepmother Tries to Kick Her Stepson Out, Unaware She Would Soon Be on the Streets Herself

**MY FIERCE STEPMOM KICKED ME OUT OF HOME AND DAD DIDN’T PROTECT ME – ONE CALL MADE HER REGRET IT FOREVER**

I came home after work. Suddenly, my crazy stepmother Karen and my dad stopped me.

Dad: “I don’t know how to say this… but…”
Her: “YOU NEED TO MOVE OUT!”
Me: “WHAT?! Dad, what is she talking about?!”
Her: “My baby is on the way. You’ll just be a burden. We need space for the child!”
Me: “But… Where will I go? I can’t afford rent… I work part-time, and study! And… God, this is my home too! Dad, say something! Please!”

I couldn’t believe it! Was I being thrown out of my own home?! Dad looked at me, then back at Karen, but stayed silent. I was so done.

Me: “You know what? You two can go to hell!”

I stormed off to my room, slamming the door. I had nothing to do. Only one thing could help me… So I dialed the number.

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Grandma, it’s me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Can I come stay with you?”

Grandma didn’t hesitate. “Of course, sweetheart. Come right over.”

Packing my things as quickly as I could, I could hear Karen’s smug laughter echoing through the house. I grabbed my essentials, threw them into my backpack, and left without a second glance at the people who were supposed to be my family.

Grandma welcomed me with open arms. As soon as I told her what had happened, her eyes narrowed with determination. “You leave this to me,” she said, picking up her phone.

The next day, my dad and Karen received an unexpected visitor—Grandma, with a lawyer in tow.

Her: “What are you doing here?”
Grandma: “Protecting my grandchild. This is her home, and you can’t just kick her out.”

The lawyer stepped forward, handing my dad a stack of papers. “These are court orders. You either let her stay, or we’ll take this matter to court.”

Karen’s smug expression faded as she read the documents. My dad looked ashamed, but it was too late for apologies.

Grandma: “And one more thing. You will treat her with respect, or I’ll ensure that neither of you gets a dime from the family inheritance.”

Karen’s face turned red with anger, but she knew she was beaten. They reluctantly agreed, and I moved back home, with Grandma’s protection ensuring I wouldn’t be mistreated again.

Dad: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have stood up for you.”
Me: “It’s too late for that, Dad. But thank you, Grandma.”

Karen never dared to cross me again, and as for my dad, our relationship was never the same. But I knew one thing for sure—thanks to Grandma, I had a place to call home, and no one could ever take that away from me again.

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