My Girlfriend’s Mom Damaged My $7,000 Prosthetic Leg Because Her Daughter Was Upset I Didn’t Take Her on a Trip – Big Mistake

When Chad planned a simple guys-only getaway, he never thought it would destroy the trust he had in the people closest to him.

What started as hurt feelings turned into a betrayal that cut deeper than any wound he had ever faced. And in the wreckage, one question burned in his mind:

What does love look like when respect is gone?


You never really understand how fragile freedom is until someone steals it—not with fists or screaming, but with a smile and the smug belief that they’re “doing you a favor.”

Two years ago, my life changed forever. I lost my left leg while hiking a mountain trail outside Flagstaff. One careless step on a wet boulder, one brutal twist of fate, and I woke up in a hospital bed missing a part of myself I could never get back.

The space where my leg used to be felt heavier than stone, like grief itself had moved in and refused to leave.

Recovery was hell. Not just the sharp physical pain, but the humiliation of learning how to exist all over again. There were days I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Days I couldn’t look anyone in the eye without tears burning through.

There were mornings when lifting a spoon felt like climbing Everest. Every little task reminded me of everything I had lost.

But I fought.

I forced myself through physical therapy and the endless psychological counseling. I pushed through setbacks, through the aching silences in rooms where people didn’t know what to say to me anymore.

Finally, I was fitted with a custom prosthetic—the best on the market. Seven thousand dollars of carbon fiber, engineered for movement and survival. With it, I could run again. Hike again. Stand tall without needing to explain myself to strangers.

That prosthetic wasn’t a gadget. It was a piece of my life I’d earned back. My second chance.

So when Linda—my girlfriend Emily’s mother—took it from me, she didn’t just damage a piece of equipment. She tried to strip away everything I had rebuilt with blood, sweat, and pain.

And the worst part? She acted like it meant nothing.


My friends and I had been planning a guys-only RV trip through Colorado for months. Just four of us—me, Dean, Marcus, and Trevor—three days in the mountains with a cooler full of beer, playlists we pretended not to like, and no responsibilities.

No wives. No girlfriends. Just brotherhood.

When I told Emily, my girlfriend of a year and a half, over dinner, I thought she’d understand. Maybe roll her eyes, but move on.

“We’re heading out Friday morning,” I said while slicing into my chicken. “Just the four of us. It’s kind of a standing tradition.”

Emily didn’t look at me. She just poked her fries with her fork.

“I could really use a break too, Chad,” she whispered.

I looked up, surprised. “I get that. But it’s just us this time. I already promised we’d do something together when I get back.”

She shrugged, but her silence was louder than any argument. I tried talking about her day, but every answer was clipped. She even started feeding her chicken to her dog, Jellybean, instead of eating.

Later that night, when I kissed her goodnight, she turned her cheek.

“Safe travels, Chad,” she muttered. “I’ll probably still be asleep when you leave.”

I thought that was the end of it. I thought wrong.


We were staying at her mom’s house temporarily, since my apartment was being fumigated. Linda, a retired woman who treated micromanaging like a full-time job, loved inserting herself into everything.

That night, I packed my duffel bag, set my prosthesis on its stand like I always did, and went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, the leg was gone. And so was Emily.

At first, I thought I’d knocked it over. My hand reached out, desperate, but touched only the cold floor. I searched the whole room. Nothing.

A hollow panic bloomed in my chest.

I grabbed my crutches, sweating, and hobbled down the hallway. The house was too quiet.

In the living room, Linda was calmly dusting porcelain figurines.

“Linda,” I asked, trying to stay calm, “have you seen my prosthesis? It was right next to the bed last night.”

Without even turning, she said, “Maybe you misplaced your little gadget, Chad.”

That one word—gadget—hit me like a slap.

I didn’t argue. I just searched the whole house, opening closets, crawling under beds, my arms aching from the crutches.

Finally, I opened the garage. The air was cold, metallic. And there it was—shoved under rusted car parts, brake rotors, greasy wrenches.

Cracked.

The carbon-fiber socket split down the joint. Irreparable.

I picked it up with trembling hands, staring at the damage. One wrong step, and it could’ve collapsed under me. I could’ve fallen. Broken bones. Worse.

I limped back inside, holding it like a broken promise.

“You hid it,” I said, voice shaking. “You damaged it. What the hell, Linda?”

She sighed like I was a child. “Because my daughter cried all night. She’s devastated you’re leaving her. Maybe if you cared more about her feelings than that stupid leg, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That leg is how I walk,” I snapped.

“You walk fine with those crutches,” she said smugly. “Look at you. You’re fine.”

“That’s not the point! This is a medical device. You destroyed something that lets me live my life.”

“I didn’t destroy it,” she shrugged. “I moved it. If it’s that fragile, maybe you shouldn’t rely on it so much.”

“You owe me $7,000,” I growled.

“I’m not paying a dime,” she smirked. “You should be grateful my daughter even wants to be with you. The way you play the victim—it’s pathetic.”

That’s when I realized. It wasn’t about the trip. It was about control. Humiliation.


I canceled the trip. I couldn’t go.

When Dean called, worried, I told him everything.

“No way,” he whispered. “She broke it on purpose?”

“She denied it. But yeah,” I said.

“You want me to cancel the trip too?” he asked.

“No. You guys go. Send me pictures when you hit Estes.”

But inside, I was breaking.

Emily didn’t apologize. She stayed in her mom’s room, hiding. Later, she finally sat by me.

“She just didn’t want me to feel left out,” Emily said softly. “My mother cares about me.”

“And I don’t?” I asked. “It was just one trip, Emily. She had no right to sabotage my body.”

She said nothing.

The next morning, I set my phone to record and confronted Linda in the kitchen.

“Do you really think damaging someone’s leg is justified?” I asked casually.

Linda smirked. “You think you’re some hero walking around on that thing? Please. Yes, I hid it. Yes, I damaged it. And I’ll do it again if it means my daughter isn’t crying over some selfish man.”

That was it. Proof.


I contacted a lawyer. When I explained everything—and played the recording—the attorney said, “This isn’t petty. This is winnable, Chad.”

Within six weeks, the judgment came down. Linda had to pay the full $7,000 plus legal fees. Watching her smugness vanish in court was a moment I’ll never forget.

I moved back into my apartment as soon as it was ready. I couldn’t breathe the same air as her anymore.

Emily showed up the next day, mascara smudged.

“You ruined her life,” she said. “You took from her retirement. You embarrassed her.”

“No,” I said firmly. “She ruined her own life when she tried to sabotage mine.”

“You could’ve handled it privately.”

“Privately?” I almost laughed. “She broke a part of me, Emily. And you stayed silent.”

“She’s my mom, Chad!” Emily shouted.

“And you’re my girlfriend. But when you stayed quiet, you chose her side.”

She folded her arms. “I didn’t want to pick sides. I hoped it would just stop.”

“Peace without truth isn’t peace,” I said. “It’s a prison.”

Emily whispered, “I’m sorry. But I can’t undo this.”

“Neither can I,” I answered.

She left. And I let her.


My new prosthetic is stronger, lighter, better. The first time I wore it, I walked to the lake near my apartment. Each step felt like reclaiming everything they tried to take.

Love without respect isn’t love.

And when some people are pushed, they fall.

Me? I learned how to stand taller—on whatever leg I’ve got.

Allison Lewis

Allison Lewis joined the Newsgems24 team in 2022, but she’s been a writer for as long as she can remember. Obsessed with using words and stories as a way to help others, and herself, feel less alone, she’s incorporated this interest into just about every facet of her professional and personal life. When she’s not writing, you’ll probably find her listening to Taylor Swift, enjoying an audiobook, or playing a video game quite badly.

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