My stepsister, Jade, was getting married and couldn’t find bridesmaid dresses that worked on all six girls. She was panicked, crying that her vision was ruined. I used to be a seamstress before maternity leave, so she asked me to make them.
I was hesitant because I have a newborn, but she was desperate. “I’ll pay you as soon as they’re done,” she promised.
I trusted her. She’s family. I wanted her day to be perfect. I worked through midnight feeds, a crying baby, sheer exhaustion. My sewing machine was humming at 3 AM while my son slept in a bassinet next to me. No upfront payment – so I dipped into our baby fund for fabric. I spent over $800 of our own savings, believing I’d get it back instantly.
Two days before the wedding, I delivered six custom-fitted olive dresses. They were perfect. Silk lining, hand-stitched hems—easily worth $300 each.
Jade looked at them while scrolling on her phone. She barely looked up. “Meh. They’ll do. Thanks.”
I stood there, stunned by her ingratitude. But I needed the money. I asked, “So… when can I get reimbursed? I used some of our baby money for fabric and I’ll need it back soon. Max needs a winter coat.”
Jade laughed—a cold, harsh sound. “Reimbursed? Don’t be tacky. Consider it your wedding gift to me. I already spent the dress budget on the open bar, anyway. Family helps family, right?”
I saw red. “My baby’s winter coat isn’t your wedding gift,” I said, my voice shaking. “You promised to pay.”
“Well, I changed my mind,” she shrugged, turning her back to me. “Just leave them on the rack.”
I didn’t leave them.
While she walked into the other room to show off her veil, I quietly gathered all six dresses from the rack. I walked out to my car, loaded them into the trunk, and drove home.
Jade called me an hour later, screaming. “WHERE ARE THE DRESSES?! The bridesmaids are here for the fitting!”
“They’re at my house,” I said calmly. “The price is $1,500 for labor and materials. Cash or Venmo. If I don’t see the notification in ten minutes, I’m selling them to the consignment shop downtown.”
“You wouldn’t dare! You’ll ruin my wedding!” she shrieked.
“You ruined my trust,” I replied.
She didn’t pay. She thought I was bluffing. I wasn’t. I sold the set to a local bridal boutique the next morning for $1,200. I bought Max the warmest, highest-quality winter coat on the market and put the rest back into our savings.
Jade’s bridesmaids ended up walking down the aisle in mismatched, off-the-rack dresses from a department store that didn’t fit right. We haven’t spoken since, but at least my son is warm.
