I learned the hard way that mixing business with family is dangerous. I trusted my half-sister, and she treated me like I should be grateful for doing her a favor—when in reality, I gave everything. In the end, though, she had to face the consequences.
I’m 25, and I work as a freelance hair and makeup artist during weekends. The money isn’t huge, but it pays the bills. More importantly, I love what I do—making women feel beautiful gives me joy.
My stepsister Claire is 28. She’s always been the favorite. The princess. I, on the other hand, was the one who kept the peace, smoothed things over, and took responsibility whenever something went wrong. Claire knew she could get away with things, and she did.
We’ve had tension between us for years. Claire has a habit of using people, and I wasn’t immune. One of our biggest fights happened when I was just starting out in makeup. Without even asking me, Claire promised one of her friends that I would do her birthday makeup and hair—for free.
Her friend expected a full glam look, the kind that normally costs a lot. When I told her my actual rate, she blinked in shock and said, “Wait… Claire told me it would be free. She said you owed her.”
That moment was so awkward, I wanted the floor to swallow me. Claire never apologized, of course. Instead, she acted like I was being dramatic. That memory stayed with me, and from then on, I knew I had to be careful.
So when she called me months before her wedding, her voice sugary sweet, I was shocked.
“Sooo, you’ll do my hair and makeup, right? And the bridesmaids too. Six of them. You’re sooo talented.”
I hesitated. “That’s a lot of people, Claire. I’ll need to bring someone to help.”
She quickly cut me off. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay. Just give me the family discount.”
For once, she wasn’t demanding it for free. Against my better judgment, I agreed. I told her I’d do the whole bridal party—including her—for $500. That was ridiculously cheap for seven full looks with hair. She said yes immediately. No contract. No deposit. She was family, after all.
The wedding day came. I arrived on time with my assistant, walking into a chaotic scene—dresses draped over chairs, perfume in the air, bridesmaids buzzing nervously.
Claire spotted me and crossed her arms. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
I glanced at the clock. “I’m here on time, Claire. We should start right away if you want everyone ready.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t overcharge me for this. Remember, it’s family.”
I held my ground. “We agreed on the price. Let’s keep this professional.”
She huffed but didn’t argue further. “Fine. Just do your job and don’t mess up.”
I ignored her attitude and got to work.
Hours flew by. My assistant and I transformed the bridesmaids—soft curls, glowing skin, elegant eyes. When they saw themselves in the mirror, they squealed with delight. Even the photographer said, “Wow, this looks amazing.”
But Claire was another story. She demanded perfection, asking me to redo her eyeliner three times.
“Ugh, it’s still not even. Do you even know what you’re doing?” she snapped.
I set my brush down, staring at her reflection. “Claire, this is the third time. I’m doing my best, but makeup isn’t magic. You keep moving, and that makes it harder.”
She gave a short, mocking laugh. “Funny, I thought you were supposed to be a professional.”
My voice stayed steady, even though my hands trembled slightly. “I am. You asked me for a reason. Let me do my job.”
She sighed dramatically. “Whatever. Just fix it. I need to look perfect.”
Finally, after what felt like hours, she looked at herself and gasped. “I look like a celebrity.”
The bridesmaids gathered around her, gushing, “Claire, you look gorgeous!” The photographer snapped pictures nonstop. Claire twirled, soaking up the praise, pretending as if she hadn’t insulted me all morning.
When they all rushed out to the ceremony, Claire whispered to one bridesmaid, “Good thing she finally got it right.”
I bit my tongue.
From the back of the ceremony, I watched her walk down the aisle. Her hair shimmered under the lights, her makeup flawless. Heads turned. Guests whispered compliments. Everything I had done was on display.
At the reception, bridesmaids slipped over to me. “Thank you again. We loved our looks,” one said. I smiled politely. Claire, however, didn’t acknowledge me once. She danced, laughed, posed for photos—acting as if I didn’t exist.
I went home exhausted but proud, expecting her to send payment soon.
The next day, I sent her a reminder. No reply. I sent another. Silence. Days later, she finally answered.
Her message left me stunned: “Lol, I’m not paying. Family shouldn’t charge family. Plus, think of all the exposure you’ll get from the photos.”
I reminded her she promised. That I’d given her a huge discount. That I brought help. She ghosted me.
I felt betrayed. But karma wasn’t done.
A few days later, my phone buzzed. Claire’s voice on the other end was hysterical. “You MUST help me! What they did is a total disaster!”
I frowned. “Who’s they?”
Her words spilled out. “The stylists I went to for another event—they ruined my hair! It’s uneven, it’s fried, it’s falling out! And the makeup—it’s blotchy! I look horrible in every picture!”
I stayed quiet, listening to her panic.
“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. I can’t live with these photos.”
I took a breath. “Claire, I gave you my best work on your wedding day. You looked perfect. You promised to pay me, and then you refused. And now, after you hired someone else, you want me to fix their mistakes?”
She whimpered. “But… you’re my sister. Isn’t that what family is for?”
My voice stayed calm, even as my chest tightened. “I was your sister when I worked for hours at dawn to make you shine. I was your sister when I charged you almost nothing. And you still decided to walk all over me. No, Claire. Not this time.”
Her sobs grew louder. “Abby, please. I’m begging you. I need you.”
I shook my head. “Then find someone else. Because I don’t need this anymore.”
There was only her crying on the other end. I hung up. For the first time, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt free.
But it wasn’t over.
The next day, Mom called. Her tone was sharp. “Abigail, I just spoke with Claire. She said you refused to help her when she really needed you. Can’t you let this go and fix things for her?”
I closed my eyes. “Mom, I already showed up for her. I worked for hours, charged almost nothing, and she still refused to pay me. That’s not a mistake. That’s a choice.”
Mom sighed. “Still, she’s your sister. Family should be there for each other.”
I stayed firm. “I’ve always been the one to keep peace. I’ve always sacrificed. But not anymore. Claire broke her word. I’m not fixing her mess again.”
The line went quiet. For once, I didn’t back down.
When I hung up, I knew something inside me had changed. I was finally done being used.
And from that day on, I promised myself: I’d never mix business with family again.