Joan settled in to enjoy a quiet movie night with her younger sister, expecting laughter and closeness, not a startling revelation. Beverly shared that their stepmother, Sophia, had taken her Christmas money, and Joan knew she had to reveal the betrayal in an unforgettable manner.
“Just let it go, just let it go!” Beverly sang along with Elsa, her small voice full of happiness. She snuggled against me on the sofa, holding her favorite blanket.
It was our first peaceful moment since I returned home for Christmas break, and I was savoring every second.
“Still your favorite film, huh?” I teased, tousling her soft brown hair.
She giggled. “Always.”
Beverly was only eight, yet she’d already faced so much. After Mom died two years ago, it was just us and Dad for a while. Then Sophia entered our lives. She wasn’t mean or anything, just cold. She’d smile when Dad was around, but when it was just us, her patience wore thin. I left for college a year later, leaving Beverly behind, which broke my heart.
Now, here we were, watching her favorite film once again.
“Did you have a good Christmas?” I asked casually.
She nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh! Daddy got me a doll. Sophia bought me pencils.”
“Pencils?” I frowned.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “They’re the twisty kind. They’re okay.”
A twinge hit me. “What about Grandma and Grandpa? Or Aunt Liz? Did they give you anything?”
“They gave me money,” she said softly.
I grinned. “That’s great, Bev! What are you planning to buy?”
Her face scrunched up, and she played with the edge of her blanket. “I don’t have it anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked leaning closer.
Her voice became a whisper. “Sophia took it. She said I had too many gifts already. She used it for groceries because Christmas dinner cost a lot.”
My stomach twisted. “Wait. All of it?”
She nodded. “I had three hundred dollars, but Sophia said I wouldn’t spend it wisely anyway.”
I looked at her. My little sister. Three hundred dollars. gone.
“Bev, who gave you the money? Did you count it yourself?”
“Grandma gave me $100, Grandpa gave me $100, and Aunt Liz gave me $100. We counted it at Grandma’s before coming home.”
“Then Sophia took it?” I asked calmly.
“She said she’d hold it for me, but I never got it back,” Beverly whispered, her eyes fixed on her hands.
My blood was rushing. How could she? How could a grown woman steal from an eight-year-old and call it “groceries”?
“Are you sure she used it for Christmas dinner?” I pushed.
“She said she did, but I saw her shopping bag from the mall.”
I clenched my fists. My mind swirled with anger and disbelief.
“Beverly, thank you for telling me. I’m sorry this happened. But don’t worry, okay? I’ll handle it.”
“How?” she asked, her big eyes searching mine.
I forced a smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”
That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t just ignore this. If I tried confronting Sophia alone, she’d deny everything or twist it. No, I needed support. I needed witnesses.
In the morning, I texted Dad.
“Hey, can we do a family dinner before I return to school? It’d be nice to gather everyone one last time.”
“Sounds good! I’ll set it up,” he replied.
My plan was already forming. Sophia wouldn’t see this coming.
The dinner table was decorated with soft candlelight. Christmas leftovers—gold ribbons, pinecones, shiny ornaments—decorated the table. Everyone had finished eating; the scent of baked ham and pie filled the air.
Dad sat at the head of the table, laughing at Grandpa’s joke. Grandma sat beside him, adjusting her glasses while sipping coffee. Across from them, Sophia looked confident, chatting casually about her “great holiday sales.” She seemed at ease, as if nothing disturbed her perfect world.
I looked at Beverly sitting nearby. She was swinging her legs and clutching a cookie. Her cheeks were rosy from the warmth.
This was it.
I tapped my fork on my plate. “Everyone,” I started, smiling to get their attention. “Before we finish, I want to say something.”
The room quieted, all eyes fixed on me.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Dad said, leaning in.
A woman standing to speak at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
I reached over and gave Beverly a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “You all know how much Beverly loves riding her scooter, right?”
Grandpa chuckled. “She zips around on that all the time!”
“Well,” I continued, “she’s been wishing for a bicycle. Something faster, maybe with a little basket for her dolls.”
Beverly smiled shyly.
“And guess what? Beverly got quite a bit of money for Christmas to help her buy one. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Liz—you all were so generous.” I paused to let that settle. “But the strange thing is… Beverly doesn’t have the money anymore.”
Sophia’s smile froze. Her fingers clutched her cup tighter.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked, eyebrows raised.
I kept my gaze steady. “She told me Sophia took it. All three hundred dollars.”
Everyone fell silent, except Grandpa setting down his fork quietly.
Sophia gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, Joan, she didn’t understand—”
“She understood perfectly,” I said firmly. “She said she had too many gifts and that she’d use the money for groceries.”
