After a long day balancing college and work, I came home exhausted. My stepmom, Karen, immediately snapped, “Why are you late? You were supposed to clean!”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m tired,” I replied.

“That’s not how responsibility works,” she shot back.

Dad intervened. “He’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s leave it at that.”

Relieved, I headed to my room, but later, at dinner, Dad and Karen dropped a bombshell.

“We’re pregnant!” they announced.

Before I could react, Karen added, “You need to move out.”

“What?!” I turned to Dad, but he said nothing.

Karen continued coldly, “We need space for the baby. You have three days.”

Feeling betrayed, I called Grandma Rose. After hearing everything, she simply said, “Do nothing. I’ll be there soon.”

The next day, Rose arrived, fury in her eyes. “How dare you throw a child out of his home?”

Karen scoffed. “Marcus isn’t a child.”

Rose smirked. “He is until he finishes school. But it doesn’t matter—this house is his. My late sister left it to him when he turned eighteen.”

Karen paled.

Rose delivered the final blow. “By the way, how’s that wine you were drinking this morning?”

Karen’s face went white. “What? How do you know about that?”

“There is no baby!” she blurted.

Dad turned to her, stunned. “You lied?”

Karen fled. Dad whispered, “I’m sorry, son.”

Finally, I felt safe. Finally, I was home.