My sister called my adopted daughter a mistake and expected me to pay for her wedding—so I cut her off and showed her what a mistake really is. (Posted by Epic Fail Whale.)

I (32F) am the eldest of five siblings, and I’ve taken on the role of family caretaker for as long as I can remember. I helped our parents until their passing, and frankly, it’s exhausting. Dad died of brain cancer three years ago, and it was heartbreaking to watch him deteriorate over time. Mom passed peacefully overnight after a long, hard battle with breast cancer earlier this year. Suffice it to say, I hate cancer.

As the oldest, I just sort of became the de facto parent. I don’t mind, because I love my siblings, and it’s kind of my thing to big-sister friends and family a lot. I’m sort of the ship’s counselor, and I financially help out my family. I don’t mind, as I work in tech, have a side gig doing art, and inherited land and money from Mom and Dad.

A few years ago, I adopted my cousin Charlie (45M)’s child—I’ll call her by her nickname, Decker—after my cousin went to prison for killing Decker’s mother in an intoxicated, substance‑fueled rage. It was a chaotic year of mourning, paperwork, and court hearings, but the adoption was finalized when Decker was five. Now she’s a happy, healthy thirteen‑year‑old who calls me Mom. She’s been in therapy since I was legally able to send her, as she witnessed her mother’s death. I couldn’t be prouder of how resilient she is. She’s my girl, my rock, my whole heart—and I literally call her that: my Heart.

Fast‑forward to my sister Clara’s (30F) upcoming wedding. I was thrilled for her at first, and she asked me to be her maid of honor. I cried with joy and offered—for my wife, Honey, and me—to pay for it, with Honey’s approval of course. But during a bachelorette dinner I set up, Clara made a hurtful comment about my daughter, calling her “a mistake” and saying I shouldn’t have taken her in.

I stared at her.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She shrugged. “It’s not like you were supposed to even have kids—you’re married to another woman.” Then she added, “No hate or anything,” laughed, and doubled down: “Decker is likely damaged and a handful.”

I didn’t understand where this was coming from. Decker is the sweetest child alive. I mean, she’s a teen, so yeah, sometimes she can be challenging or rebellious here and there—but when I say she is my whole heart, I mean it. She made us a family and turned our house into a home. She smiles easily, cries openly, and has the emotional intelligence I wish I had. She always asks, “How are you doing?”—and really means it, willing to listen to people. But to Clara, she’s a “damaged mistake.”

I didn’t laugh it off with my sister and her friends. I just stared at her in pure disbelief. I think she knew I was hurt, because she quickly changed the subject. I said I’d better get home, paid for everything—including three more rounds—and went home to my family.

My sister came over the next day to yell at me for leaving and “cutting them off” after the three rounds I paid for. She said I owed her a do‑over for “ruining the whole weekend” because I “can’t take a joke.”

Honey—who I had, of course, told what happened—asked my sister to repeat exactly what she said about our daughter. My sister refused and kept calling Decker “Charlie’s child.” I was holding back so many tears. I told my sister that I wouldn’t contribute a dime to her wedding expenses, and even though I’m helping her with rent until she moves in with her husband, I won’t be in—or pay for—the wedding of someone who sees my child as a mistake.

Honestly, I was ready to go off on her, but Honey helped me temper myself. My sister lost it, threw the can of soda water we gave her at me, screamed, “How am I supposed to pay for this?” and I said, “You have over a year—you can save up.”

She left, shoving Honey out of the way in the process, and blew up our sibling group chat. My other siblings are split—some think I’m overreacting by cutting off funds for the wedding, while others agree that my sister crossed a line and needed the wake‑up call. I love my sister and she’s distressed by this, but I can’t help feeling that standing up for my daughter is more important.

Edit:

I was trying to reply to everyone, but I honestly ran out of steam. I sent this post to my wife, and I’m bracing myself to talk to Decker tonight. We want to ask her if her aunt has done or said anything cruel to her, or about her. I’m wishing hard that she’s just confused by our questions and remains oblivious to this crap storm. I love my Heart. I want her always to remain the bright, fun‑loving, encouraging person she is. I don’t want her to know anything about what her aunt has said.

I texted my sister to ask if she meant it—if she really sees me, my wife, and our daughter that way—or if she was just drunk and stupid and doubled down in embarrassment. That said, I don’t want her near Decker anytime soon. I feel so lost. I wasn’t prepared for being a parent, and there is no manual for this. What do I even do? Wish me luck for tonight. I will need it—because if Decker tells us her aunt has been cruel to her face, I will have to hold my wife back from swinging on my sister.

Update — four days later:

Honey and I took Decker out to the local Oktoberfest celebrations. She had a blast—did crafts, danced to music, drank a “beer” (it wasn’t actually beer) in a pint glass, and generally had a great time. On the ride home, my wife broached the long‑awaited topic. We asked Decker how she felt about Grandma’s passing, then talked about how everyone handles things differently. We asked if Mama (me) or Mommy (Honey) had ever been hurtful.

She mentioned a couple of moments when we’d been snappy or wouldn’t let her do things, like going to a party really late at night, but beyond that she said nothing. Then we asked about Clara, and she got quiet. Honey looked at me. Since I was driving, I said, “You can tell us anything—you know that.”

She clammed up. When we got home, I hugged Decker and went to the den. About two hours later, my wife came downstairs and said, “Decker’s in bed but not asleep. You should talk to her.”

“Why?” I asked.

She simply said, “Decker is willing to talk about it.”

So I went up. Decker was ready for bed in her PJs, reading. I sat down on the side of the bed and asked how she was.

She sighed. “Mom told you, huh?”

“I don’t know anything,” I said. “Tell me.”

Decker said that Clara makes her uncomfortable and had said hurtful things when my wife and I weren’t around. Clara called her “the lost puppy” or “the stray” and once told her to her face, “You’re not real family.” She also said that once Honey and I had a “real child,” we’d dump her.

I can’t explain the rage—the absolute, total, and complete red—I saw as my daughter broke down, telling me she behaves so well and is so obsessed with grades to prove she’s worth loving, worth keeping. I called my wife, and we sat Decker down to tell her she is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. We told her that even if we have more children, she is our firstborn and our love.

I cried and held her, telling her she was my whole heart and that nothing will ever change that. She saved us, and I’m so proud of her and of us and all we’ve grown to become. I told her I can never stop loving her, and neither can her mom. We love her more than air, and that will never change. Then I explained that Auntie was wrong—Auntie is jealous of her, jealous of how much we love her. Auntie needs help, but we can’t give that help, so she won’t be around for a while.

Decker asked us to stop talking to her like a child, so I was blunt.

“She’s my sister, and I love her. You’re my daughter, and I love you more,” I said. “My sister was wrong and hateful.” I apologized that she didn’t feel she could come to her mom or me sooner, but I assured her she can—every time, anytime. “We will always choose you. Always.”

Decker asked if it was her fault that I hate Clara. I told her that hate is a choice. I don’t hate Clara—I do love her—but sometimes loving someone means you correct them. Actions have consequences.

My daughter got quiet and handed me her phone. Clara had been texting her awful things since she left my home. I can’t even type them because they make me want to throw things, but one stood out: Clara texted my teenage daughter, “Go tell your so‑called mom like a snitch and prove me right.”

I took a screenshot and sent it to myself. Decker fell asleep around midnight, and my wife and I went to bed. I texted my sister the screenshot and wrote:

“You come into my home as my sister and treat my child like this? Mom and Dad would be ashamed of you. This is not how you treat any child, let alone your own niece. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I know you were not raised to treat children so terribly—but as of now, you are not welcome in my home. You will not speak to or contact me, my wife, or my child. I will give you the money for October, Clara, but starting November, that’s your responsibility. I am no longer going to help. I’m sorry—this breaks my heart, but you crossed a serious and unforgivable line. Decker is my daughter, and I am her mom. Do not doubt me here. And let me be clear: if you ever come sideways at my family again or contact my daughter at all, I will take legal action. From today on, we are low contact. If you try to make this into a bigger issue, it will become no contact. If you don’t understand, here are resources to help spell it out. I love you. —D.”

Second Update:

Two days later—I kept my promise to my wife to wait before reacting. She knows me best and knew I was prepared to go nuclear. Turns out I needn’t have bothered.

Let me clear up a couple of small details and misconceptions I’ve read. I am the eldest of the siblings. Mom and Dad had been sick for years, on and off, so to those who think I’ve just started taking over as some weird power trip—no. I managed their finances, maintained their properties, and took care of their affairs long before either of them passed. Dad simply wasn’t mentally able after a while, and Mom never had a head for that sort of thing.

Yes, I was mostly left in charge of my siblings growing up. Both my parents had businesses and worked often seven‑day weeks. I cooked dinner and helped with homework and whatnot. I’m aware that’s not very normal, and I already know some of you will call my parents terrible for this—but they simply didn’t know better. I won’t hate them for any of it, and as much as it caused me some negative effects, it also made my siblings feel safe. I’m proud of being able to protect them and be there for them when they were young, so they didn’t feel how I felt. And yes, I am also in therapy.

I was the sole caretaker of my parents when they passed. The reasons are complicated, but the short of it is that Dad became verbally abusive toward the end, and Mom became severely depressed and blunt. They were a challenge to deal with on the best of days. I hold no ill will toward them, but there it is—my siblings didn’t want to be around them. Dad was hurt and changed his will. Mom followed suit.

For those telling me I am “rewarding” Clara by paying for literally this month—and that I’m not a real mom or a bad mom for loving my daughter’s tormentor—I’m envious your world is so black‑and‑white. Rent is literally due today, and the money was already in transfer to her via auto‑banking. Clara isn’t being rewarded; she is remaining housed. But from now on, she’s on her own.

Clara and I used to be pretty close, but she got distant around the time Decker was adopted. I didn’t know exactly why—just that the new dynamic was a challenge for her. I know she hates Charlie and considers him evil and irredeemable. She had a really hard time losing our cousin‑in‑law—Decker’s biological mother—as they were very close, so I assume her issues stem from this.

I inherited the majority of everything, though my siblings got sizable sums. Three got all but one of the businesses my parents owned, and everyone got trusts. Clara spiraled after Mom passed and had a mental‑health crisis before we got her help. She traveled, drank, and gambled away her entire inheritance—long story for another time.

I had a moment to cool down and waited until today to make a level‑headed decision regarding my sister. Clara has spun the tale that I am jealous she found a loving man, and that I’m withholding Mom and Dad’s money from her. She gave the perception that I was the one abusing Decker—putting her down and telling her she isn’t my real daughter. That rumor shut down when I sent my text a couple of days ago.

Yesterday, Clara was on my doorstep. She was crying and begging me to let her in, but my wife and her friends were inside, and I made it clear I don’t want her near my family, as she emotionally abused my daughter and physically harmed my wife. I told her to leave or I would call the police to have her removed. I was going to call the police anyway, because I’d told her never to come to our home again—and there she was. There’s a reason I said this in text: so I could, in an event like this, show them clear as day that she knew she was not welcome.

Clara started to beg, saying she would apologize to Decker, that she was drunk and upset and “made mistakes.” I could tell she was drunk, or high, or something. I told her it’s not a simple mistake to bully a traumatized teen girl and make her feel unloved and unwanted by her own family—and to text her that she is worthless and expendable. What the—

I got angry and started to raise my voice. I don’t know when I started to yell, but I did. I told her she is a cold‑hearted, awful, self‑serving brat—spoiled beyond belief—to think this all would just go away. That she’s entitled to the money my wife and I make, and the money our parents gave us, after all she did. She needs help. And I am done being The Giving Tree. You don’t ever hurt my child. She’s lucky I have the self‑control to keep my hands to myself—and luckier still that Honey isn’t out here, because she certainly would not. “So go the hell home.”

Clara slapped me across the face and called me a b***h and a traitor—saying I chose “that demon‑spawn of a child” over her, that I love Decker more than my “own real family” and turned my back on her. Honey must have been right by the door, because before I could make a very bad choice, she yanked me inside, told my sister she had sixty seconds to get off our property, and slammed the door. Clara left quickly, but we still called the police and handed over the footage from our property cameras of what happened, as well as the texts from our phones.

Clara went ballistic over text, telling me awful things—ending with her hoping I take my own life so she could celebrate. Absolutely unhinged, awful stuff. I blocked her, sent every piece of footage in a Google Drive, and dropped the link in the sibling group chat—and to Kevin, her fiancé.

Then I sat down and cried myself into a fit before Decker came home from practice. I put on my mom face for her and made sure she did her homework. Then I went to the den and called my aunt—Decker’s biological grandmother—and told her what happened. My aunt told me Clara is renewing her conspiracy that I’m harming Decker and that I need to be careful because she suspects Clara is having some sort of mental break and might do something crazy.

Honey and I have spent this whole day working on a request for a protective order against Clara, making sure Decker’s school knows no one is to pick her up but us, and getting a lawyer because I think legal action is needed here. I told my eldest brother that Clara needs help and asked if he could check on her because she might be as much a danger to herself as she is to me and my family. He got quiet and said, “Can you handle this? This drama is too much. I’m busy.”

I was so stunned I just blurted, “Are you kidding me right now?” and hung up. My other sister is now over helping me deal with this. My other brother has gone to check on Clara but says he will only make sure she hasn’t hurt herself—beyond that, “she can get what she gets” for what she’s done.

Kevin called me and said he went through the Google Drive and begged me not to call the police on Clara. He said she has been having a really bad time, has struggled with drinking, and has been stealing his medications. He’s trying to get her help, but if she gets arrested, he doesn’t have the funds for bail or any legal help. I told him it’s too late—the police have been called—and he needs to get her into some sort of rehab or something. He asked for our help to pay for a facility he was thinking of, and I told him to keep her away from me and my family.

He started to cry and told me I’m an awful sister, that I don’t care about Clara and her struggles, and that she’s just lost while he’s underwater trying to keep her from going off the deep end. I didn’t reply after that and have just been sitting around the house waiting for the police to call back. I feel wretched and terrible, because no matter what I do now, it will never feel right. I was supposed to look after them all—and now my sister is this lunatic hell‑bent on burning my life down while my brother is alarmingly indifferent to it all. I’m used to being the one that holds the family together and handles things, but I don’t feel like I can handle anything anymore. What is my life?

Third Update — two months later:

Too tired to do the song and dance, so if you want the rundown, it’s on my account. I think I just desperately need to write this out.

We went no contact with my entire side of the family about a month and a half ago, except for my other sister (not Clara). Decker has been in therapy, and frankly—so have I, and Honey too, both individually and in bi‑weekly couples therapy sessions. A lot has changed.

I didn’t realize how much the abuse I suffered at the hands of my uncle—Decker’s biological grandfather—really affected me. His reaction to Decker never bothered me or really impacted my emotional or mental state, but my mother forcing me to forgive him and be polite when he was around did. It’s always been that way: I was the eldest, so I turned the other cheek until I had no cheeks left—then I turned the old ones. I was never really permitted to have negative emotions or to get angry. This situation with Clara stirred up a lot of dust, and Honey and I started to have issues. She noted how reserved I tend to be, and even with her I struggle with asking for what I want or expressing displeasure. I shut down or deflect. It sucks to learn this about yourself when the rest of your world is falling apart.

Clara was arrested for my assault and ended up doing a mental‑health program for a month rather than getting a conviction. As such, her record is clean of that from what I understand. It was hard cutting her and the others off. My other sister was the one keeping me up to date on everything. Clara got out a while ago. She’s been trying to get in touch every way she can—new number, email, Facebook, even TikTok. She’s written and mailed numerous letters.

I’m exhausted, because I hate cutting everyone off. It’s isolating—always having my siblings around and now suddenly only really having one sister. I’m really lonely. I focus on Decker and Honey. Honey seems happier overall—she’s dancing in the kitchen again, more affectionate with me, more excited to go out and do things. And Decker is also happier: we focus less on her grades and more on praising her kindness, her determination, and more. She’s more open with me in particular; she talks about crushes and friends more now, shares about the intricate life of a teen (LOL). It’s really very cute. I’m not so okay, but my family is safe and happy, which is what matters.

Clara’s fiancé, Kevin, reached out to me two days ago. Clara has been released—and has been out for a week or so, it sounds like—but she still has outpatient rehab to do. It’s encouraged for her to have family support, he says, and she isn’t doing well. She started talking about self‑harm, and she confided in him that the same uncle who abused me abused her. He’s begging me to talk to her and help her through this. He keeps reminding me of how she was before all this and how close we were. Calling what we were “close” may be incorrect, because based on what I’m learning, our relationship was toxic from the start: I was an enabling sister to a manipulative, narcissistic one.

I held my ground and spoke to Honey, who agrees I should keep no contact and block Kevin, and simply rely on my other sister for updates. But I can’t help feeling guilty. I wish Clara well, but I can’t risk cracking the door open and endangering the well‑being of my family. I think I just feel alone. I know I can’t have her in my life anymore. It just hurts.

Sorry for the delay in the update. And to those who have been gentle—or at least firm but fair—with me in my messages, thank you. There was never a manual on how to be a good wife or mother, and I have lived an existence of feeling so out of my depth. I appreciate the support.