I love my sister-in-law, Melissa, but she’s exhausting. High-maintenance, demanding, and always finding a way to get her own way. For my brother Brandon’s sake, I try to tolerate it, but some days, it feels impossible.
Melissa has always been a master manipulator. She’s been married to Brandon for ten years, and he hasn’t noticed how she leeches off everyone. She wants the world to bend to her, and she expects it to happen without effort.
Last month, she invited me on a grocery shopping trip to that overpriced boutique store she adores.
“Oh, come on, Hannah,” she said, batting her eyelashes like she was doing me a favor. “It’ll be fun! Just us, a little sister time.”
I thought, okay, maybe it would be nice. It was right before her birthday, so I even hoped I might sneak in some gift shopping for her. Little did I know, it was a trap.
The moment we got out of her car, she started criticizing.
“Your shoes are definitely not made for hours of walking,” she said, eyeing my sneakers with disdain.
“I’ll survive,” I laughed, trying to brush it off.
Hours passed as we wandered the aisles. Melissa tossed items into her cart as though she were on a game show.
“Do you really need six of these candles?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes!” she said, grinning. “You can never have enough.”
By the time we reached the checkout, my jaw nearly hit the floor—the total was $1,470.
I thought, okay, she’s happy, so whatever. But then she looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.
“Oh no! Hannah! I think I left my wallet at home. Can you cover this? I’ll pay you back as soon as we get home!”
I blinked. “Sure… but this is insane. Are you sure you need all of this?”
“Yes! It’s all for my birthday. I’m planning big!”
Reluctantly, I paid. I didn’t want to cause a scene, and my brother would have freaked if he knew. She didn’t even thank me properly—she jumped into her car and drove off.
A week later, at our family brunch, I casually brought it up.
“So… about that $1,470?”
Melissa laughed, sipped her mimosa, and said, “Oh, come on! Why are you being so greedy? Consider it a birthday gift. You can afford it.”
I couldn’t believe it. A birthday gift? From me? To her? The audacity. That was when I decided it was time to teach Melissa a lesson she’d never forget.
Melissa had been bragging about buying a new luxury car, one she planned to get with Brandon co-signing because her credit was terrible.
“It’s luxurious, Hannah! The seats are like they were made for me! And Brandon’s co-signing—he’s amazing, right?”
“Why not just do it yourself?” I asked innocently.
“Uh… my credit… it’s shot,” she said sheepishly. “But that’s why I have a husband!”
I smiled to myself. Time to stir the pot. I anonymously called the dealership, posing as someone checking a loan. I mentioned Melissa’s name and some “issues” with her credit.
Soon, Melissa was fuming.
“Why is this taking forever?” she complained one evening over dinner.
“They need more paperwork,” Brandon said, confused. “I don’t know why, but be patient.”
“Stupid formalities,” she muttered under her breath, slamming her fork down.
Next, I called a friend at the bakery where Melissa had pre-ordered an absurdly expensive birthday cake.
“Jess, she’s a nightmare. Can you make her pay upfront?” I asked.
“Of course,” my friend said. “It’s business.”
Melissa was furious: “What do you mean they need payment NOW? They never asked before!”
Brandon asked cautiously, “You have the money, right?”
“Of course! But it’s principle!” Melissa snapped.
Then it was time for online chaos. She loved shopping on Amazon, so I asked Brandon if I could use his account.
“Sure,” he said, smiling.
I logged in and changed the password. Melissa, sitting in the living room, tried to buy things, only to find herself locked out. Hours of customer service calls followed.
“Amazon customer service is useless!” she yelled at Brandon.
“Maybe take a break?” he suggested, half-joking.
“Not funny! It’s my birthday! I deserve things!”
I hid behind my wine glass, trying not to laugh. Her sense of entitlement was growing faster than her frustration.
Finally, the birthday arrived. Melissa’s party was a disaster. I had subtly told family and mutual friends about the grocery fiasco. Few guests showed up.
“Where is everyone?” she cried, looking around at the nearly empty room.
“The party started an hour ago,” I shrugged innocently.
Her birthday gift from me? A small card with $14.70 in a gift card.
“Here’s something for your next shopping trip,” I said sweetly. “Happy Birthday, Melissa!”
Humiliation washed over her face.
Days later, my brother called me, sounding exhausted.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, already knowing.
“It’s Mel… she’s acting so strange. And now, with everything you told everyone, I’m finally starting to see the truth.”
“I’m sorry, Brandon,” I said softly. “But you deserve to know. She can’t manipulate people forever.”
“We’ll have a serious talk. If she doesn’t change… well, divorce may be the only option.”
I left him to it, feeling a quiet satisfaction. Finally, Brandon’s eyes were open, and Melissa was getting a taste of her own medicine.