After I refused to fund my sister’s $50,000 dream wedding, she invited me to a birthday dinner. Instead, three lawyers sat waiting with papers. She smirked, saying, “Just sign or this gets messy.” I calmly said, “Meet my husband.” What he pulled out next changed everything.

My name is Sarah Martinez, and this is the story of how my younger sister, Jessica Williams, tried to legally rob me blind— and how it spectacularly backfired.

To understand how we got here, I need to go back six months.

Jessica had always been the golden child in our family. While I worked my way through college and law school— taking on student loans and working nights at a diner— Jessica floated through life expecting everything to be handed to her. Our parents, bless their hearts, enabled this behavior completely.

When Jessica got engaged to her boyfriend Brad, a nice enough guy who worked in middle management at some insurance company, she immediately started planning what she called her “dream wedding.” I’m talking full fairy‑tale princess mode— designer dress, luxury venue, open bar for two hundred guests, destination bachelor and bachelorette parties—the works.

The problem? Neither Jessica nor Brad had the money for this fantasy. Jessica worked part‑time at a clothing boutique and spent most of her paycheck on clothes and makeup. Brad was drowning in credit‑card debt from trying to keep up with her expensive tastes.

That’s when Jessica came to me.

“Sarah, you’re my big sister,” she said, sitting in my kitchen with those big puppy‑dog eyes she’d perfected since childhood. “I need your help with the wedding.”

I should mention that I’m a corporate attorney at a midsized firm in Chicago. I work long hours, I’m good at my job, and yes, I make decent money. My husband, Marcus, and I live comfortably, but we’re not millionaires. We have a nice house in the suburbs, reliable cars, and we’re trying to save for our own future— maybe kids someday, definitely retirement.

“What kind of help?” I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling.

“Well,” Jessica began, pulling out her phone with a detailed spreadsheet, “I calculated that I need about $50,000 to make this wedding perfect. And since you and Marcus are doing so well financially—”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “$50,000? Jessica, that’s more than most people make in a year.”

“But it’s my wedding,” she whined. “This is supposed to be the most important day of my life. You only get married once, Sarah. Well, hopefully,” she added with a nervous laugh.

I tried to be diplomatic. “Jess, that’s a huge amount of money. Marcus and I have our own financial goals, and we’re not in a position to just give away $50,000.”

Her face immediately darkened. “Give away? Who said anything about giving? I’ll pay you back.”

“When? With what income? You work part‑time at a clothing boutique.”

“I’ll get a better job after the wedding. Brad’s up for a promotion. We’ll figure it out.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. If you want to have an expensive wedding, you need to save for it yourselves or scale back your plans.”

That’s when Jessica’s true colors started showing. She called me selfish. She said I was jealous because I had a small courthouse wedding— which, by the way, was exactly what Marcus and I wanted. She accused me of not caring about her happiness.

The conversation ended with her storming out of my house, shouting that I would regret this decision.

Over the next few weeks, Jessica launched a full‑scale guilt campaign. She got our parents involved, telling them I was ruining her special day out of spite. Mom called me crying, begging me to reconsider. Dad gave me lectures about family loyalty. Extended family members who barely knew the situation started chiming in on social media about how important it is to support family.

But I stood firm. $50,000 wasn’t pocket change, and I wasn’t about to go into debt or drain our savings for Jessica’s party.

Things got worse when Jessica started telling people I had promised to pay for the wedding and then backed out at the last minute. Suddenly, family gatherings became uncomfortable. Cousins made passive‑aggressive comments. Aunts asked pointed questions about my priorities. Through it all, Marcus supported my decision completely.

“You’re absolutely right,” he would tell me. “If we had that kind of money sitting around doing nothing, it would be different. But we don’t.”

Marcus is a forensic accountant, which becomes important later in this story. He works for a firm that specializes in financial investigations— tracking down hidden assets, analyzing suspicious transactions— that sort of thing. He’s incredibly detail‑oriented and has an almost supernatural ability to spot financial irregularities.

For a few months, things were tense but manageable. Jessica and I barely spoke. Family events were awkward, but I figured she would eventually get over it, plan a more modest wedding, and we could repair our relationship.

I was wrong.

The first sign that something was off came when Jessica suddenly started being friendly again. She called me out of the blue in early November, acting like nothing had happened.

“Sarah, I’ve missed you so much. I know things got weird between us, but I want to fix that. Brad and I have been talking, and we realized we got carried away with the wedding planning. We’ve scaled everything back and we’re planning something much more reasonable.”

I was relieved. “That’s great, Jess. I’m so glad you’re being practical about this.”

“I was actually hoping we could get together and talk things through properly. I owe you an apology for how I acted.”

This seemed like a positive development, so I agreed to meet her for coffee. During our conversation, she was the picture of contrition. She apologized for pressuring me, admitted she had been unrealistic, and said she understood why I couldn’t help financially.

“I just got caught up in all the wedding magazines and Pinterest boards,” she said with a self‑deprecating laugh. “You know how I get about things.”

I did know how she got about things, which is why I was surprised by this sudden maturity. But people can change, right? I wanted to believe my little sister was finally growing up.

Over the next few weeks, Jessica kept reaching out. She invited Marcus and me to dinner with her and Brad. She asked for my advice on wedding planning within a budget. She even suggested we take a sisters’ trip together to reconnect.

I was cautiously optimistic that we were rebuilding our relationship.

Marcus was more skeptical. “It just seems sudden,” he said one evening while we were watching TV. “People don’t usually do complete personality reversals overnight. Maybe I should look into this a bit.”

“You think she’s up to something?”

“I think it’s worth being cautious. Let me do some basic checking, just to be safe.”

I agreed, thinking he’d maybe look at her social media or ask around. I had no idea he was conducting a full forensic investigation.

The invitation came in early December. It was a beautiful card with elegant script: “You’re invited to celebrate Sarah’s birthday with dinner at Chez Laurent. December 15th, 7:00 p.m. Dress code: Business attire.”

I was touched that Jessica was planning something for my birthday— even though my actual birthday wasn’t until January. When I called to thank her, she explained that she wanted to celebrate early since the holidays got so busy.

“I booked us a private dining room at Chez Laurent,” she said excitedly. “It’s going to be perfect. Just family— you, me, Marcus, Brad, Mom, and Dad.”

Chez Laurent was one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

“Jess, this must be costing you a fortune. Are you sure you can afford it?”

“Don’t worry about that. I want to do this for you. It’s my way of saying thank you for being such a good sister, even when I was being impossible.”

The night of the dinner, Marcus and I dressed in business attire as requested. I wore a black dress suit and Marcus wore one of his best navy suits. As we drove to the restaurant, I was genuinely looking forward to the evening.

“Maybe this is Jessica’s way of showing she’s really changed,” I said to Marcus.

He squeezed my hand. “I hope you’re right.”

Chez Laurent was as elegant as its reputation suggested. The hostess led us to a private dining room in the back of the restaurant. But when we walked through the door, I immediately knew something was wrong.

Yes, Jessica and Brad were there along with my parents. But there were also three men in expensive suits sitting at the table. The table was set for ten people, not six. And instead of birthday decorations or a festive atmosphere, the mood was formal and tense.

Jessica stood up as we entered, and for a split second I saw something cold and calculating in her eyes before she masked it with a smile.

“Sarah, Marcus, you made it. I have a little surprise for you.”

The three men in suits stood as well. The oldest one— a distinguished‑looking man in his sixties with silver hair— stepped forward.

“Ms. Martinez, Mr. Martinez— thank you for joining us this evening. My name is Robert Thornton, and I’m an attorney with Thornton, Blake & Associates. These are my colleagues, David Blake and Jennifer Hayes.”

My stomach dropped. As a lawyer myself, I immediately recognized that this wasn’t a birthday dinner. This was an ambush.

“What’s going on, Jessica?” I asked, my voice steady despite the alarm bells going off in my head.

Jessica’s mask slipped completely, and she smiled in a way I’d never seen before. It was triumphant and cruel.

“Well, Sarah, you made it very clear that you won’t help me willingly, so I found another way to get what I need.”

Attorney Thornton gestured to the chairs. “Perhaps we should all sit down and discuss this like civilized people.”

“I think I’ll stand,” I said. Marcus moved closer to my side.

Jennifer Hayes opened a briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of papers.

“Ms. Martinez, we represent your sister, Jessica Williams, in a matter concerning a significant debt you owe her.”

“I don’t owe Jessica any money,” I replied immediately.

Brad looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to be anywhere else. My parents looked confused and worried.

Robert Thornton smiled in that predatory way— that expensive‑lawyer’s perfect. “According to our research, Ms. Martinez, you do indeed owe your sister a substantial sum. We have documentation showing that over the past fifteen years, Jessica has provided you with numerous loans, financial assistance, and services that have never been repaid.”

He nodded to Jennifer Hayes, who began reading from the papers.

“December 2008: Jessica provided you with $1,200 for law‑school textbooks. March 2010: Jessica loaned you $800 for car repairs. July 2012: Jessica paid $2,100 for your bar‑exam preparation course. September 2014: Jessica provided child‑care services valued at $50 per day for three weeks while you were studying for a major case— totaling $1,050. The list goes on.”

I stared at Jessica in disbelief. “This is insane. Half of these things never happened, and the ones that did were gifts.”

“Actually,” said David Blake, speaking for the first time, “we have documentation proving these were intended as loans, including signed IOUs.”

Jennifer Hayes pulled out what appeared to be handwritten notes. Even from across the table, I could see they were supposedly in my handwriting, acknowledging various debts to Jessica.

“These are forgeries,” I said flatly.

“That’s a serious accusation,” Robert Thornton replied smoothly. “Are you prepared to prove that in court? Because that’s where this is headed if we can’t resolve this tonight.”

Jessica was practically glowing with satisfaction. “Sarah, I really don’t want this to get ugly. All I’m asking for is what you already owe me. With interest and emotional‑distress damages, it comes to exactly $50,000.”

The audacity was breathtaking. My little sister had fabricated an entire debt, hired expensive lawyers, and was trying to extort money from me using forged documents.

“And if I refuse to pay this fictional debt?” I asked.

“Then we file a lawsuit first thing Monday morning,” Robert Thornton said. “We’ll seek damages, court costs, and attorney fees. We’ll put liens on your house, garnish your wages, and make your life very difficult until this matter is resolved.”

“We might also have to notify your employer about the legal proceedings,” Jennifer Hayes added helpfully. “Law firms don’t like it when their attorneys are involved in messy financial disputes.”

I felt my parents’ eyes on me. Dad looked like he was about to say something, but Mom put a hand on his arm to stop him.

Jessica leaned forward, her voice dripping with false concern. “Sarah, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my sister. Just sign the papers agreeing to pay what you owe, and we can all go back to being a family.”

“Papers that would essentially confess to owing you $50,000 for fictional debts.”

“The debts are real, Sarah. I have documentation.”

I looked around the room: three high‑powered attorneys, forged documents, my family watching the drama unfold, and Jessica sitting there like a cat that ate the canary. That’s when I remembered Marcus was standing right beside me.

“Jessica,” I said calmly, “before I consider signing anything, I’d like you to meet my husband properly.”

Jessica looked confused. “I know Marcus.”

“You know Marcus the person. But you don’t know Marcus the forensic accountant who specializes in financial‑fraud investigations.”

For the first time since we’d entered the room, Jessica’s confidence wavered slightly.

I turned to Marcus. “Honey, could you please show everyone what you brought?”

Marcus had been quiet throughout this entire confrontation, but I had noticed him taking notes on his phone. He reached into his briefcase— I hadn’t even realized he brought it— and pulled out his own stack of papers.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Marcus said in his calm, professional voice, “my name is Marcus Martinez, and I’m a forensic accountant with Whitman Financial Investigations. When my wife mentioned that her sister had suddenly become friendly again after months of hostility, I became suspicious and began conducting some preliminary research.”

Robert Thornton was starting to look less confident.

“So I did a more thorough investigation,” Marcus continued. “Jessica Williams, you’ve made several critical errors in your attempt to defraud my wife.” He opened his folder and pulled out the first document.

“First: the handwriting analysis. I had a friend at the FBI lab take a look at these supposed IOUs. Not only is the handwriting inconsistent with my wife’s actual signature, but the ink used in several of these documents wasn’t even manufactured until 2018. Yet you’re claiming some of these debts date back to 2008.”

Jessica’s face went white.

“Second: the financial records. I pulled bank statements, credit‑card records, and transaction histories for the relevant time periods. On the date you claim my wife borrowed $800 for car repairs, our bank records show that we paid for those repairs ourselves using our joint checking account. I have the canceled check right here.” He held up a copy of the check.

“Third: the law‑school textbook ‘loan.’ My wife’s law school has confirmed that she received a full scholarship that included textbook vouchers. She never needed to borrow money for books because they were provided free of charge.”

Robert Thornton was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“But my personal favorite,” Marcus continued, “is the child‑care claim. You’re asserting that you provided child care for my wife in September 2014. According to your own social‑media posts— which I’ve printed out here— you were in Europe on a month‑long backpacking trip during that entire time.” He fanned out a series of Instagram and Facebook screenshots showing Jessica at various European landmarks throughout September 2014. “So either you provided child‑care services while traveling through Europe, which would be impressive— or you’re lying about this debt, too.”

The room was dead silent, except for the sound of papers rustling as Marcus organized his evidence.

“Now,” he continued, “let’s talk about what we discovered when we dug deeper into the financial aspects of this situation.” He pulled out another set of documents. “It seems Jessica has been quite busy lately. Three weeks ago, she hired Thornton, Blake & Associates and paid them a $15,000 retainer. That’s interesting considering she claimed to be broke and unable to afford her own wedding.”

Robert Thornton shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Where did that money come from, Jessica? Well, it turns out you’ve been running a profitable online resale business for the past eight months that you haven’t told your family about. You’ve been buying designer clothes and accessories at outlet stores and estate sales, then reselling them online at significant markups by claiming they were from exclusive boutiques.”

Jessica was now visibly sweating.

“But the really interesting part is the pattern of purchases over the last three months. You’ve been specifically targeting items that you can quickly flip for cash— and all of that cash has been going toward this elaborate scheme to extort money from my wife.”

Marcus turned to address the lawyers directly. “Gentlemen and madam, I should inform you that my company has been retained by several law‑enforcement agencies to investigate financial crimes. What we have here is a clear case of fraud, forgery, and extortion. The forged documents alone are enough for criminal charges.”

Jennifer Hayes looked like she wanted to disappear under the table.

“Furthermore,” Marcus continued, “I took the liberty of researching Thornton, Blake & Associates. You specialize in civil litigation— not criminal defense— which means you’re probably not prepared for the criminal charges that are about to be filed against your client.”

Robert Thornton finally found his voice. “Mr. Martinez, if there are irregularities in the documentation, I’m sure we can—”

“There are no irregularities,” Marcus interrupted. “There are crimes. Multiple felonies, in fact.” He turned back to Jessica, who looked like she was about to be sick. “But wait— there’s more. Jessica, did you know that attempting to extort money using forged documents in the presence of lawyers makes those lawyers potential witnesses against you? And did you know that since this fake debt exceeds $10,000, it qualifies as felony fraud?”

My parents were staring at Jessica in horror. Dad actually pushed his chair back from the table as if he didn’t want to be associated with what was happening.

“Furthermore,” Marcus continued, “I should mention that I’ve been taking detailed notes during this meeting for documentation purposes. In Illinois, only one party needs to consent to documentation of conversations— and as a participant, I consent.”

The three lawyers were whispering urgently among themselves. Robert Thornton stood up abruptly.

“Ms. Williams, based on new information that has come to light, Thornton, Blake & Associates needs to reassess our representation. We’ll be in touch regarding next steps.”

“You can’t just leave me here,” Jessica shouted.

“Ms. Williams, I strongly advise you to contact a criminal‑defense attorney immediately. We specialize in civil matters, not criminal defense. You’re going to need someone who knows how to handle fraud charges.”

The three lawyers packed up their papers with remarkable speed and headed for the door. Robert Thornton paused on his way out.

“For what it’s worth, Ms. Williams— you might also want to consider the fact that your brother‑in‑law has enough evidence to ruin your life. I’d suggest apologizing and hoping they don’t press charges.”

And then they were gone, leaving Jessica, Brad, my parents, Marcus, and me sitting in stunned silence.

Jessica looked around the room desperately. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“How was it supposed to go?” I asked. “You were going to blackmail me into giving you $50,000 using forged documents— and then what? We’d all just pretend this never happened?”

“You wouldn’t help me!” she screamed. “You have money and you wouldn’t help your own sister!”

“So you decided to steal it from me instead.”

Brad finally spoke up. “Jessica, what the hell did you do? You told me your sister owed you money from years ago.”

“She should have just helped me with the wedding,” Jessica muttered, not looking at anyone.

My dad cleared his throat. “Jessica Marie Williams, I’m ashamed of you. What you attempted to do here tonight is inexcusable.”

Mom was crying quietly. “How could you do this to your sister? How could you do this to our family?”

I looked at Jessica, who was slumped in her chair, looking defeated and angry.

“Jess, you could have had a beautiful, modest wedding that you could actually afford. You could have started your marriage without debt and stress. Instead, you chose to try to commit fraud against your own sister.”

“I just wanted one perfect day,” she whispered.

“At my expense. Literally.”

Marcus was putting his papers back in his briefcase. “Sarah, we should go. We need to decide what we want to do about pressing charges.”

The mention of charges seemed to snap Jessica out of her self‑pity. “You can’t press charges. I’m your sister.”

“You tried to extort $50,000 from me using forged documents,” I replied. “The fact that you’re my sister makes it worse, not better.”

We stood to leave. My parents looked devastated, and Brad looked like he was reconsidering his entire relationship.

“Sarah, wait,” my dad called out as we reached the door. “What happens now?”

I turned back to look at my family. “I don’t know, Dad. I really don’t know.”

Marcus and I left the restaurant and drove home in relative silence. When we got to our house, we sat in the living room, both of us still processing what had just happened.

“I can’t believe she actually tried to pull that off,” I said finally.

“I can’t believe she thought it would work,” Marcus replied. “The forgeries were amateur at best, and the ‘documentation’ was so obviously fabricated.”

“Thank God you’re naturally suspicious and incredibly thorough.”

Marcus smiled for the first time that evening. “It’s what you pay me for.”

“I don’t pay you. You’re my husband.”

“Details.”

We spent the next hour going through all of Marcus’s evidence and discussing our options. We could press criminal charges, which would likely result in Jessica facing serious jail time. Or we could use the threat of charges as leverage to make sure she never tried anything like this again.

“What do you want to do?” Marcus asked.

I thought about it for a long time. Jessica had tried to destroy my life over a wedding. She had forged documents, hired lawyers, and attempted to extort money from me. She had brought our parents into her scheme and traumatized them in the process. But she was still my sister.

“I want to make sure she can never do this to anyone else,” I said finally. “But I don’t necessarily want to send her to prison.”

Over the next few days, Marcus and I consulted with our own attorney— a criminal‑defense lawyer who specialized in white‑collar crime. He confirmed that Jessica had committed multiple felonies and that we had more than enough evidence for a conviction.

“The question is whether you want justice or revenge,” he told us. “Justice would be pressing charges and letting the legal system handle it. Revenge would be using this evidence to make her life miserable without involving the courts.”

“I want option three,” I said. “I want consequences that actually teach her something and protect other people— but I don’t want to destroy her life completely.”

That’s when we came up with our plan.

The following week, I called Jessica and asked her to meet me for coffee— just the two of us. She agreed, probably hoping she could convince me not to press charges.

When she arrived at the coffee shop, she looked terrible. She hadn’t been sleeping, and she had clearly been crying recently.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” she began as soon as she sat down. “I know what I did was wrong. I was just so desperate, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get the money.”

“So you decided to forge documents and try to extort it from me?”

“I know it sounds bad when you put it like that, but I was just trying to make you understand how important this was to me.”

“Jessica, do you understand that what you did was illegal? Like, ‘go to prison’ illegal?”

She nodded miserably. “Brad broke up with me. He said he couldn’t marry someone who would try to steal from her own family.”

I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said, pulling out a folder. “You have two choices. Choice one: Marcus and I press criminal charges. You get arrested, you go to trial, and you probably go to prison for two to five years. You’ll have a permanent criminal record, and you’ll never be able to work in finance, education, healthcare, or most other professional fields.”

Jessica’s face went white again.

“Choice two: You agree to the terms I’m about to outline, and we don’t press charges.”

“What terms?”

I opened the folder and pulled out a document that Marcus and I had drafted with our lawyer.

“First, you will attend financial counseling and anger‑management therapy for a minimum of one year. You’ll provide us with documentation of your attendance and progress.”

Jessica nodded eagerly.

“Second, you will write letters of apology to me, Marcus, Mom, Dad, and anyone else who was affected by your actions. These letters will acknowledge exactly what you did wrong and take full responsibility for your choices.”

“Okay. Yes, I can do that.”

“Third, you will pay restitution for the costs we incurred dealing with your fraud attempt. This includes our attorney fees, the cost of Marcus’s investigation time, handwriting analysis, and other expenses. The total comes to $12,800.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “I don’t have that kind of money right now.”

“Then you’ll get a second job and pay it off over time. We’ll work out a payment plan.”

“What else?”

“Fourth, you will perform two hundred hours of community service at a nonprofit organization that helps people with financial literacy.”

“And if I do all of this, you won’t press charges?”

“That’s correct. But Jessica— if you ever try anything like this again, if you ever attempt to defraud anyone, not just us, we will immediately turn over all of this evidence to the police and the district attorney’s office.”

She signed the agreement that same day.

Over the next year, Jessica actually followed through on her commitments. She got a full‑time job at a bank, started taking evening classes in financial planning, and completed her community‑service hours. The therapy seemed to help her understand why she had felt so entitled to other people’s money.

She never did have her dream wedding. She and Brad were over for good— turns out attempted fraud was a deal‑breaker for him. But about two years later, she met a guy named Kevin who worked as a high‑school math teacher. They had a small, lovely wedding in our parents’ backyard that cost less than $5,000 and was infinitely more meaningful than the extravaganza she had originally planned.

As for our relationship, it took time to rebuild trust, but the therapy really did help Jessica understand how toxic her behavior had been, and she worked hard to make amends. We’re not as close as we used to be, but we’re family— and we found a way to move forward.

The real turning point came about six months after the coffee‑shop meeting. Jessica called me crying to tell me that one of her friends had asked her to co‑sign a credit‑card application.

“Sarah, I almost said yes because I felt bad for her,” she said. “But then I remembered everything we talked about, and I realized she was trying to manipulate me the same way I tried to manipulate you.”

“What did you do?”

“I told her no— and I explained why co‑signing would be bad for both of us. She got mad and stopped talking to me, but I realized that meant she was never really my friend anyway.”

That’s when I knew the therapy was actually working.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Marcus hadn’t been so suspicious and thorough. Would I have been pressured into signing those papers? Would Jessica have gotten away with her scheme?

But I also think about the larger lesson here. Jessica had spent her entire life believing that she deserved whatever she wanted, regardless of the cost to other people. Our parents had enabled that mindset by always bailing her out and making excuses for her behavior. The attempted fraud was just the logical extreme of a pattern that had been building for years.

In a way, I’m glad it happened when it did— before she tried something like this on someone with fewer resources to fight back.

These days, Jessica and Kevin live in a modest apartment and stick to a strict budget. She still loves pretty things, but she’s learned to appreciate what she can afford rather than obsessing over what she can’t. She’s become genuinely good at helping other people understand personal finance, and she volunteers at a nonprofit that teaches financial literacy to teenagers.

As for Marcus and me, the whole experience actually brought us closer together. Seeing him calmly dismantle Jessica’s scheme with such precision and professionalism reminded me why I fell in love with him in the first place. He’s the kind of person who prepares for problems before they happen and handles crisis with grace and competence. We still laugh sometimes about the look on those lawyers’ faces when Marcus started pulling out his evidence. Robert Thornton, in particular, looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.

We never did find out what happened to Thornton, Blake & Associates after they realized they had been hired to commit extortion. I imagine they had some uncomfortable conversations with their malpractice‑insurance company.

The strangest part of the whole experience was realizing how far Jessica was willing to go to avoid simply accepting “no” for an answer. If she had put half as much energy into saving money for her wedding as she did into trying to steal it from me, she could have had a perfectly lovely celebration. But some people have to learn the hard way that actions have consequences. I’m just grateful that Jessica learned her lesson before she did something that would have landed her in prison or destroyed someone else’s life.

And for the record— Marcus and I did eventually have our own dream celebration. For our fifth wedding anniversary, we took a trip to Italy and renewed our vows in a tiny chapel in Tuscany. It cost about $3,000 total. It was absolutely perfect, and most importantly, we paid for it ourselves.

Sometimes the best revenge is just living well and making smart choices. But sometimes, when your sister tries to extort $50,000 from you, the best revenge is being married to a forensic accountant who’s very, very good at his job.