My wife Rachel asked me to bail out her sister, Lana, whose reckless spending and new car had buried her in debt. I said no — we had savings goals. Then $2,000 disappeared from our account. Rachel had taken it behind my back. That was just the beginning.
I’d been reading a feel-good update from Rachel’s animal rescue when she walked in, stressed. Lana and her husband had maxed out credit cards, sold their car, and now needed help. That evening, Rachel asked if we could give them up to $5,000. I offered to chip in from our personal budgets — she scoffed. She wanted to dip into retirement savings. I refused.
Days later, I found $2,000 missing from our savings. Rachel admitted she took it — to help Lana buy things for a new car. She didn’t ask; she just did it. I was stunned. We fought. She claimed it was “our” money. I told her trust had a price, and she’d just spent it.
The next day, I moved our funds to a new account to protect what was left. Rachel exploded, calling it financial abuse. I said they were consequences. She left.
Then Lana called me — full of contempt, demanding more money, saying Rachel deserved better. I hung up.
Three days passed in silence. On the fourth, Rachel called. She sounded broken. She said Lana wanted me to send more money. I asked if she still thought I was the bad guy.
“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered.
“When you figure it out, call me,” I said. Then I hung up — unsure if I’d done the right thing.
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