Just weeks before my wedding, my stepmother Sandra shattered my late mother’s cherished crystal set—her only heirloom to me. She claimed it was an accident, but the smug look on her face told the truth.

My mother, Alice, passed when I was 16. Her crystal glasses, polished every Sunday, sparkled like sunlight—“Only for moments that matter,” she’d say. My engagement was one of those moments.

Sandra never liked Mom’s memory. After I refused to wear her outdated wedding dress, her hostility grew. That day, I found the crystal in shards—and Sandra feigning shock.

What she didn’t know? My Aunt Marlene had swapped the real set days earlier and caught everything on a hidden camera.

At my wedding, I played the video. Sandra’s voice rang out: “Getting rid of Alice’s precious memories.” The crowd fell silent.

Then Marlene entered, carrying the real crystal set. Applause thundered. My dad turned to Sandra and said, “We’re done.”

That night, we toasted with my mother’s glasses. Sandra tried to erase her—but instead, I honored her.

Justice, like sunlight through crystal, shone through.