I learned the hard way why mixing family and business is often a recipe for heartbreak. I trusted my stepsister to honor her word, but instead, she treated me like I should be grateful to serve her. What she didn’t realize was that her actions would come back to haunt her.
I’m 25 and spend most weekends freelancing as a hair and makeup artist. It’s not a huge source of income, but it helps cover bills, and more importantly, I truly love it. Watching women light up when they see themselves transformed makes all the hours worth it.
My stepsister Claire, who’s 28, has always been the center of attention—the “golden one.” I grew up being the mediator, the calm one, the responsible one, while she basked in the spotlight. She knew she was favored, and she leveraged it whenever she could.
This wasn’t the first time she’d taken advantage. When I was just starting out, she told a friend of hers that I’d do their birthday glam completely free, claiming it was a “sister perk.” I only found out when her friend looked shocked at my actual rates. That awkward situation caused a big rift between us.
So when Claire called me months before her wedding, I assumed maybe this was her attempt to make amends.
Her voice dripped with sweetness: “Sooo, you’ll do my hair and makeup, right? And also my six bridesmaids? You’re sooo talented.”
I hesitated. “That’s a lot of people. I’d need an assistant.”
She didn’t flinch. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay. Just give me the family discount.”
For once, she wasn’t asking me to work for free. Against my better judgment, I agreed. I quoted $500 for all seven looks—an extremely low price for that amount of work. Claire accepted instantly. No written contract, of course. I thought family could be trusted.
The Wedding Day
When I arrived with my assistant, the bridal suite was in chaos—dresses tossed everywhere, tension crackling in the air.
Claire spotted me and crossed her arms. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
I glanced at my watch. “I’m here on time, Claire. We should get started.”
She smirked. “Just don’t try to overcharge me. Remember, it’s family.”
I kept my tone professional. “We agreed on the price. Let’s keep it simple today.”
For hours, my assistant and I worked nonstop. The bridesmaids glowed when they saw their finished looks. The photographer even commented on how polished they looked.
Claire, however, was impossible. She had me redo her eyeliner three separate times, criticizing my technique each time. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” she sneered.
I forced a steady voice. “Claire, I’m doing my best, but if you keep moving, it won’t look right.”
Eventually, she gasped at her reflection: “I look like a celebrity!”
The bridesmaids cheered, and the photographer snapped away. Claire basked in the compliments as if I hadn’t been standing there covered in setting powder and sweat.
The Fallout
After the wedding wrapped up, I went home exhausted but satisfied with my work. The next day, I sent a message asking about the payment. No answer. Days later, she finally texted back:
“Lol, I’m not paying. Family doesn’t charge family. And you’ll get plenty of exposure from the photos anyway.”
I reminded her of our agreement, of the discount, of the fact that I’d even brought help. She ignored me.
I was crushed—but karma was already circling.
Her “Emergency”
A few days later, Claire called in tears. “You HAVE to help me! It’s a total disaster!”
I asked bluntly, “Who messed it up?”
Her words tumbled out. “The stylists I went to for another event after the wedding. They fried my hair, it’s uneven, and my makeup looked blotchy in every picture. People are laughing at me!”
She begged me: “Please, Abby. I need you. I know I said I wouldn’t pay before, but this is different. You can fix it. You’re the only one I trust.”
I steadied my voice. “Claire, I gave you flawless work on your wedding day. You promised to pay, then you ghosted me. And now you want me to fix someone else’s mistakes for free?”
Her tone shifted to guilt-tripping. “But you’re my sister. Isn’t that what family is for?”
I didn’t flinch. “I was your sister when I woke up at dawn to do seven looks for half my normal price. I was your sister when I gave you hours of work and made you feel like a celebrity. You treated me like I was nothing. Not this time, Claire.”
Her sobbing filled the silence, but I didn’t bend. I ended the call. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt free.
The Aftermath
The next day, my mother called. Her voice was sharp. “Abby, I spoke to Claire. She’s devastated. She says you refused to help when she needed you. Can’t you just let this go?”
I stayed calm. “Mom, I already helped her. I worked for hours, practically for free, and she refused to pay. That wasn’t a mistake—it was a choice. I’m done letting her take advantage of me.”
Silence followed. For once, I didn’t cave.
That was the moment I realized something had shifted. I was finished mixing family with business. Claire had made her choices, and now she could deal with the results.
I didn’t just walk away from a client that day—I walked away from years of being her doormat. And honestly? It felt like the best payment I could have received.