My stepmother always looked at my late mother’s necklace, thinking it should be hers.

When she took it and wore it to her wedding without my permission, I was devastated. I was furious, so I did something that left everyone gasping.

My name is Olive, and I’m 23. This isn’t a sob story, but it does involve a necklace.

Not just any necklace. It is my late mother’s. Aside from her recollections, this is all that remains of her. I rely solely on my memories.

A sparkling diamond necklace in a jewelry box | Source: Midjourney.

I lost my mother, Poppy, when I was 19. Cancer. The worst type. It was the most terrible loss I had ever experienced. My mother was my favorite person in the world. We were quite close. She was my rock, my confidant, and my everything.

She was right there with me, listening to my ridiculous jokes and laughing with her beautiful, infectious laugh. After she passed away from cancer, I found myself standing in front of her grave, holding her favorite white blooms and fragrant candles.

A young woman mourning over the grave of a loved one | Image: Freepik

The ache was excruciating. I couldn’t believe she was actually gone.

Every morning, I hoped it was simply a horrible dream. But it wasn’t. Her loss had a significant impact on my mental and physical wellbeing. I stopped eating, couldn’t sleep, and our entire home felt empty without her.

I went to therapy, and while it helped, nothing could fill the vacuum she left.

A young woman sitting inside the chapel and mourning | Image: Pexels

I recall sitting in those meetings, trying to express the intensity of my anguish. “She was more than just my Mom,” I’d remark. “She was my best friend.”

The therapist would nod, but no amount of therapy could completely alleviate the anguish. It felt like a piece of me had been taken away, and the wound would not heal.

I gradually improved, but the hollowness persisted.

A sorrowful young woman sitting alone on a wooden pew | Image: Pexels

Every time I saw something Mom loved—a flower, a book, or a recipe she used to make—my heart felt heavy all over again.

But life must carry on, right?

I knew Mom would have wanted me to move forward and find happiness even without her. It wasn’t easy, and some days were more difficult than others, but I kept moving forward, clinging to the memories and love she gave me.

A sad young woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels

Dad crumbled, and I tried to be the strong one for both of us.

I moved back to Dad’s from the apartment I shared with my ex, bringing all my belongings, including Mom’s treasured diamond necklace. This necklace was a family heirloom she had inherited from her late grandma and passed down to me.

Over time, I began to heal. However, things took a turn for the worse when Dad introduced his new fiancée, Magdalene, my soon-to-be stepmom.

Can you believe that? I mean, Dad’s allowed to move on, right? But Mom? She was irreplaceable.

Magdalene had her eyes on Mom’s necklace from day one. Can you imagine the audacity of this woman wanting to wear something that belonged to the woman she was replacing?

“Olive, honey,” Dad started, trying to sound gentle. “Magdalene really admires your mother’s necklace. She says it would look perfect with her wedding dress.”

I was furious. “Dad, that necklace is everything to me. It’s Mom’s.”

Magdalene stepped in, all fake sweetness. “Oh, Olive, darling, I promise I’ll take good care of it. I just think it would be such a beautiful tribute to your Mom.”

Tribute? More like a slap in the face.

“No,” I snapped. “It’s not happening. I won’t give the necklace to anyone.”

Dad sighed. “Olive, please. It’s just for one day.”

One day? Like it’s no big deal?

“No, Dad. It’s a no.”

An upset young woman sitting on the couch | Source: Freepik

With that, I stormed away to my room, leaving Magdalene fuming. I knew I had to hide the necklace. But where? My room was a no-go zone. Magdalene was always snooping around. I needed a safe place, somewhere she’d never look.

Then it hit me. My childhood teddy bear, Buttons. I had him since I was a kid. He had a zipper at the back. Perfect.

I slipped the necklace inside, zipped it up, and placed Buttons on my bed. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

The wedding day finally rolled around, and guess what? I got the boot. Can you believe it? My own Dad’s wedding, and they didn’t even want me there. Magdalene had made sure of that.

While everyone was at the beach resort where Dad and Magdalene were tying the knot, I stayed home. I felt uneasy and decided to check on Mom’s necklace, thinking I should move it to a safer hiding place.

I picked up Buttons and unzipped him, digging into his soft fiber stuffing. My heart practically stopped beating. The necklace was… GONE

I felt a cold dread creep into me. I knew who had taken it. Magdalene. Who else?

I called her immediately. “You took it,” I accused her. “How dare you take my Mom’s necklace without my permission?”

“Olive, darling, calm down,” she cooed. “I saw you hiding it. It belongs with the rest of the family heirlooms now.”

“It’s not yours!” I yelled. “It belonged to Mom! Give it back now!”

“Oh, please, Olive. Get over it. I can’t leave the guests and the wedding. I’ll return it after the honeymoon,” Magdalene said dismissively, “and you better not come here to make a scene.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “No, you won’t. You’re lying.”

“Whatever you say, dear. Enjoy your day alone,” she hung up.

My anger reached a boiling point. How dare she take my late mother’s favorite jewelry and flaunt it as her own at her wedding? My blood boiled. Magdalene needed to be taught a lesson she would never forget.

I immediately called the cops and explained the situation. I told them my stepmom stole my late Mom’s necklace and intended to leave for her honeymoon with it.

I rushed to the wedding venue, and by the time I arrived, the police were already there. I watched from afar as they retrieved the necklace from Magdalene.

The scene was pure chaos, with guests whispering and their jaws dropped. Dad looked like he’d been slapped. Magdalene was a mess, tears streaming down her face. I felt a strange satisfaction. She deserved this… and more for stealing my Mom’s beloved necklace.

My phone blew up with calls from Dad and Magdalene, but I ignored them as I discreetly left the venue.

The police called me shortly after to hand over my Mom’s necklace. I collected it, thanked them, and headed home. When I got there, Dad and Magdalene were already waiting for me, fuming.

“You ruined our wedding!” Magdalene screamed. “How could you call the cops over a crappy piece of jewelry?”

Dad joined in, saying, “That was petty and crazy, Olive. You humiliated us!”

Magdalene glared at me. “You’re a BAD daughter. You deserve to rot in hell for embarrassing me like that.”

I defended myself. “The necklace belonged to my late Mom. It has sentimental value, and you had no right to take it without my permission.”

Dad and Magdalene argued back, saying I could have waited to get it back. Dad’s words cut deep. “You’ve burned all bridges with us, Olive. I consider you dead to me after this.”

Heartbroken but resolute, I knew I had to protect what belonged to my Mom. I packed all my belongings, including Mom’s photos and mementos.

As I packed, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. This house held so many memories, good and bad. But it was time to let go.

I left for my old apartment downtown. Before I walked out, I looked at Dad. “You lost your daughter today, Dad,” I said coldly. “Congrats on your new marriage.”

Back in my old apartment, it was just me and the memories now. And that was okay. I felt a sense of peace knowing Mom’s beloved necklace was safe and where it truly belonged.

I spent the next few days alone and focused on healing. I joined a support group for people who had lost loved ones to cancer.

Talking to others who understood helped me cope. I started painting, something Mom had always encouraged me to do. It was therapeutic, a way to express my emotions.

Slowly but surely, I started to feel like myself again. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming. Life slowly started to settle into a new normal.

My old apartment was cozy, filled with memories of simpler times. Mom’s favorite armchair sat in the corner. I’d often catch myself talking to it, telling her about my day, seeking her advice, as if she were still here.

Work became my anchor. Long hours at the design firm kept my mind occupied. I threw myself into projects, finding solace in the world of colors and shapes. It was a way to escape, to forget.

One evening, while scrolling through social media, a picture popped up. It was Dad and Magdalene, looking blissfully happy on their honeymoon.

A pang of fury shot through me, then a wave of indifference. It was their life now. Mine was here, with Mom’s memories and the necklace.

It was a long journey, filled with tears and laughter, heartache and hope. But through it all, I emerged stronger. And as I look in the mirror even today, I see a reflection of the woman Mom had always believed I could be.