I learned the hard way that mixing business with family almost always backfires. I thought I could trust my half-sister to keep her word, but instead she acted like I should be grateful for even working with her, as if she was doing me a favor. The truth? I was the one giving everything. And in the end, she was the one who faced the consequences.
I’m Abby, 25 years old. I work as a freelance hair and makeup artist, mostly on weekends. It’s not a huge income, but it pays my bills and, honestly, I love what I do. Helping women look in the mirror and feel confident—that’s priceless for me.
Then there’s my stepsister, Claire. She’s 28, and ever since we were kids, she has always been the favorite. Everyone in the family babies her, excuses her, and puts her on this pedestal she doesn’t deserve.
I was the one who picked up responsibilities, kept the peace, and did everything I could to keep things smooth between us.
But our relationship? Always rocky. Claire has a habit of taking advantage. She knows people will back her up no matter what, and she uses that to get what she wants.
We’d even had a big fallout years ago. Back then, I was just starting out in makeup. Claire told one of her friends that I would do her hair and makeup for her birthday—full glam. The kind of thing that normally costs a lot of money. But Claire told her it would be free because, hey, I was her stepsister.
She never mentioned this arrangement to me.
When I finally spoke to her friend and explained my actual prices, her face went pale. She looked embarrassed and said, “Wait, I thought this was a favor. Claire told me it was free.”
That whole situation was so awkward. It left me looking greedy and unkind, when in reality it was Claire lying that set us up. That incident put a huge crack in my relationship with her.
So when she called me months before her wedding, I thought maybe—just maybe—this was her way of making amends.
Her voice was sweet and sugary. “Sooo, you’ll do my hair and makeup, right? And the bridesmaids too. There are six of them. You’re sooo talented.”
I hesitated. “That’s a lot of people, Claire. I’ll need to bring help.”
She quickly cut me off. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay. Just give me the family discount.”
For once, she wasn’t expecting me to work for free. That felt like progress. I agreed, giving her a massively discounted price—$500 for seven full looks with hair. That was practically nothing in the beauty industry, but I told myself, She’s family. Maybe this is a fresh start.
I should have known better.
The morning of the wedding, I showed up with my assistant. The bridal suite was chaos. Dresses draped over chairs, bouquets tossed in corners, and a nervous energy filled the air.
Claire spotted me the second I walked in. She crossed her arms and said coldly, “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
I stayed calm. “I’m here on time, Claire. We should start soon if you want everyone ready.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t overcharge me for this. Remember, it’s family.”
I met her gaze. “We agreed on the price, Claire. Let’s keep it professional today.”
She didn’t like that. Her lips curled, and she muttered, “Fine. Just do your job and don’t mess up.”
I turned to my assistant and unpacked our kits, refusing to let her rattle me.
We worked for hours straight. Bridesmaids squealed when they saw themselves in the mirror, whispering things like, “Oh my God, I love it!” Even the photographer complimented our work.
But Claire? She was impossible.
She had me redo her eyeliner three times.
“Ugh, it’s still not even. Do you even know what you’re doing?” she snapped.
I put the brush down and looked her in the mirror. “Claire, this is the third time. I’m doing my best, but makeup isn’t magic.”
She laughed mockingly. “Funny, I thought you were supposed to be a professional.”
My hands trembled, but my voice stayed steady. “I am. You asked me to do this because you know I’m good. But if you keep moving every few seconds, it won’t come out right.”
She leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Whatever. Just fix it. I need to look perfect.”
I bit back my frustration and kept going. Finally, when I finished, she gasped at her reflection. “I look like a celebrity.”
The bridesmaids buzzed around her, fussing with their dresses and bouquets. Claire twirled in front of the mirror, soaking up compliments. The photographer snapped photo after photo.
But when she rushed out of the room, all she said was a whisper to one bridesmaid: “Good thing she finally got it right.”
The ceremony was beautiful. From my seat, I could see guests admiring her flawless hair and makeup—every detail I had worked so hard on.
At the reception, the bridesmaids quietly thanked me. “We loved our looks. Thank you again.” But Claire? She didn’t even acknowledge me. No “thank you,” no introduction to others. Nothing. She laughed, danced, and posed for photos, as if all my effort didn’t exist.
By the time the night ended, I was exhausted but proud. I went home certain I’d be paid soon. After all, she had promised.
The next day, I sent her a message about the payment. No reply. I waited. A few days later, she finally texted back:
“Lol, I’m not paying. Family shouldn’t charge family. Plus, think of all the exposure you’ll get from the photos.”
I was speechless. I reminded her of our deal, the hours of work, and that I even brought an assistant. She ignored me completely after that.
I felt betrayed. Hurt. But I had no idea that karma was already on its way.
Just a few days later, my phone rang. Claire’s voice was hysterical.
“You MUST help me! What they did is a total disaster!”
I blinked. “Who’s they?”
Her words came out in a flood. “The stylists I went to for another event after the wedding. They ruined my hair! It’s uneven, it’s fried, it’s literally falling out! And the makeup—they made me look blotchy! I look hideous in every single picture!”
I let her panic fill the silence. She begged again, “Please, Abby. I need you. I know I said I wouldn’t pay, but this is different. Everyone saw me like this. People are laughing at me. I can’t live with these photos.”
I steadied my breath. “Claire, I gave you my best work on your wedding day. You looked perfect. You promised to pay me and then refused. You ghosted me when I reminded you. And now, after choosing someone else, you want me to fix their mistakes?”
She stammered, “But… you’re my sister. You’re supposed to help me. Isn’t that what family is for?”
My grip on the phone tightened, but my voice stayed calm. “I was your sister when I woke up at dawn to do your hair and makeup. I was your sister when I charged almost nothing for hours of work. I was your sister when I made you feel like a celebrity. And you still walked all over me. No, Claire. Not this time.”
Her sobs grew louder. “Abby, please. I’m begging you. I can’t go out like this again.”
I shook my head. “Then find someone else. Because the truth is, I don’t need this anymore.”
I hung up before she could say another word.
For the first time in years, I felt no guilt—only relief.
But of course, Claire couldn’t stop there.
The next day, my mother called. Her voice was sharp. “Abigail, I just spoke with Claire. She’s upset. She said you refused to help her when she really needed you. Can’t you just let this go and fix things for her?”
I gripped the phone, my patience thin. “Mom, I already showed up for her. I worked for hours on her wedding day, practically for free. I did everything she asked, and she still refused to pay me. That wasn’t a mistake. That was a choice.”
Mom sighed. “Still, she’s your sister. Family should be there for each other.”
This time, I didn’t falter. “I’ve always been the one to keep the peace. I’ve taken the blame, stayed quiet, and sacrificed more than I should have. But not anymore. Claire broke her word. I won’t fix her mess again.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. For once, I didn’t bend.
When I hung up, I knew something had shifted. I was finally free from the guilt, from the cycle of being used.
And I promised myself one thing: I would never, ever mix business with family again.