The next morning, I transferred $25,000 — nearly every penny I’d made from the flower shop sale. It wasn’t a small sum. But I told myself if the tables were turned, Lisa would do the same for me.
I tried not to think about it. For six months, I said nothing. I didn’t want to be the sister who hounds her family over money. After all, they said they just needed a year.
But one year came and went. Then two.
And the only thing I received in that time were excuses.
“It’s been a rough quarter,” Rick would say, shrugging.
“Tuition came due for the kids,” Lisa added. “We’re stretched thin.”
Yet social media told a different story.
They posted about weekend getaways, new handbags, lavish birthday brunches. And one day, Rick pulled into their driveway in a shiny new SUV.
That was the moment I started saving screenshots. Not out of spite, but because I knew — deep down — I was being taken advantage of.
