Hi, I’m Sarah. Today I’m going to read you the story of Betsy titled like this:

“My sister took the money from my room and spent it on herself. She thought I was going to cry, but I smiled. Then Dad came in shouting at me: ‘Where are the \$15,000 we prepared for your sister’s college?’ She burst into tears. Well, let’s go.”

My name is Betsy, and I’m twenty-four years old. I still live with my parents even though I graduated from college two years ago and have a decent job at an insurance company. It’s not that I can’t afford my own place; I just never felt the rush to move out. My parents are good people, and honestly, living at home helps me save money.

My younger sister, Christina, is twenty and in her second year of college. She lives in the next town over, about an hour’s drive from our family home. Unlike me, she only comes back during holidays and breaks.

Christina has it pretty easy. Our parents pay for everything—her tuition, her rent, her food, her spending money. Everything gets handed to her on a silver platter. When I was in college, things were different. I had to work part-time jobs to pay for my own food and rent. I was lucky enough to get a partial scholarship that covered seventy percent of my tuition, so my parents only had to pay thirty. But I still remember those late nights working at the campus bookstore and weekend shifts at a local diner just to make ends meet. It wasn’t fun, but it taught me the value of money.

My parents—Mom and Dad—are both hardworking people. Dad works at a construction company as a supervisor, and Mom is a secretary at a law firm. They’re not rich, but they’ve always managed to provide for our family. They own our house and have a small country house by the river that’s been in the family for years.

This year, though, money got tight. Dad had some health issues that kept him out of work for a few weeks, and Mom’s hours got cut back. They started worrying about how they’d pay for Christina’s education next year. I could see the stress on their faces when they thought nobody was looking.

“We need to figure something out,” I heard Mom tell Dad one evening, when they thought I was upstairs. “Christina’s tuition is due in three months and we just don’t have the money saved up like we usually do.”

Dad rubbed his forehead the way he always does when he’s thinking hard. “What about the country house? There’s so much old stuff there that we never use anymore.”

That’s when they came up with their plan. They decided to clean out the country house and sell everything they could. Over the next two months, they worked every weekend, going through decades of accumulated belongings. There was an old fishing boat that hadn’t been used in years. Furniture from when my grandparents were alive. Old appliances, tools, and boxes of random household items.

They sold the boat to our neighbor, Mr. Peterson, for \$3,000. The old dining room set went to another neighbor for \$800. Dad’s collection of tools that he’d replaced over the years brought in another \$1,200. Some of the furniture was in good enough condition to sell online, while other stuff they just sold for scrap metal. By the end of two months, they’d managed to sell almost everything. The total came to exactly \$15,000 in cash. They kept it all in twenties, fifties, and hundreds, in a large envelope.

Christina had no idea this was happening since she was away at college the whole time.

Last Tuesday morning, Dad called me into the kitchen before I left for work. He was holding that thick envelope, and I could tell he was nervous about something.

“Betsy, I need you to do me a favor,” he said, placing the envelope on the table between us. “This is all the money from selling the stuff at the country house. Fifteen thousand dollars. I need you to deposit it in our family account at the bank today.”

I picked up the envelope and felt the weight of all that cash. “Dad, this is a lot of money to be carrying around. Are you sure you want me to take it to work with me?”

“I would do it myself, but I have back-to-back meetings all day, and your mother has that important client presentation. You’re the only one who can get to the bank during business hours.”

I looked at my watch. I had about ten minutes before I needed to leave for work, and the bank didn’t open until after I’d already be at the office.

“Actually, Dad, I can’t make it to the bank today. I’ve got that big project deadline, and my boss specifically said he needs me there all day. But tomorrow’s my day off, so I can go to the bank first thing in the morning.”

Dad nodded. “That’s fine. Just keep it somewhere safe tonight.”

When I got to my room, I looked around for a good place to put the money. My dresser seemed too obvious, and I didn’t want to leave it just lying around. I settled on the top drawer of my desk. It had a bunch of old college papers and notebooks in it, so the envelope would be hidden underneath everything.

When I got home from work that evening, I walked through the front door and immediately froze. There was Christina, strutting around our living room like she owned the place. But something was different. She was wearing clothes I’d never seen before—expensive-looking jeans, a designer sweater, and boots that probably cost more than I make in a week. In her hands was a brand-new phone, one of those latest models that cost over a thousand dollars.

“Christina,” I said, dropping my work bag by the door. “When did you get home? And where did you get all that stuff? Did you actually get a job or something?”

Christina laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. “Me? Work? Are you crazy? I’m not insane enough to get some crappy part-time job like you did in college.”

My stomach started to twist with a bad feeling. “Then how did you pay for all this?”

“Oh, I just borrowed some money from a secret location,” she said with that same grin, waving her new phone around. “Found myself a little treasure chest, you could say.”

Something clicked in my head. A cold, horrible realization washed over me. Without saying another word, I ran to my room, my heart pounding. I yanked open the desk drawer and frantically pushed aside all the papers and notebooks. The envelope was gone. The drawer was completely empty except for my old college stuff.

I stared at the empty drawer for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few seconds. My hands were shaking as I searched through every single paper, hoping maybe the envelope had somehow slipped behind something. Nothing. It was really gone.

I ran back to the living room, where Christina was still admiring herself in the mirror, posing with her new phone. She was completely absorbed in taking selfies, acting like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Christina!” I shouted.

She looked up, startled by my tone. “What’s your problem?” she asked—but I could see something flicker in her eyes.

Before I could answer, she got a call and picked up the phone. “Yeah, baby. Did you get it? I sent you ten thousand today like I promised.” Her voice went sugary-sweet, one I’d never heard from her before. “I know, I know—you really needed it for those debts. Don’t worry about paying it back right away. Just take care of what you need to.”

Ten thousand dollars. She’d sent someone ten thousand dollars of my parents’ money.

I grabbed the phone right out of her hand and hung up. “Why did you take the money from my room?”

Christina rolled her eyes like I was being ridiculous. “Oh, please, Betsy. I went to your room to borrow a phone charger because mine broke. I couldn’t find one, but I did find that envelope full of cash just sitting there in your drawer.”

“So you just took it? You just took fifteen thousand that wasn’t yours?”

“Look, if money is just lying around the house, that means it’s family money, right? And I’m family. I found a good use for it instead of just letting it sit there collecting dust.” She shrugged like it was the most logical thing in the world.

I was so shocked I couldn’t even speak for a moment. Then Christina did something that made my blood boil: she held up her new phone and took a picture of my face.

“You should see how crazy you look right now,” she laughed. “This is hilarious. Maybe next time don’t leave money scattered around the house if you don’t want people to use it.”

That’s when I heard the front door open. Mom and Dad were home from work.

“What’s going on here?” Dad asked as he walked into the living room. He could probably tell from the tension that something was wrong.

“Christina took the money from my room and spent it all,” I said, my voice coming out higher than I intended.

Mom’s face went white. “What? Betsy, that’s not funny. Don’t joke about something like that.”

“I’m not joking, Mom. Look at all the stuff she bought. And I just heard her on the phone talking about sending ten thousand to someone.”

Christina’s face had gone pale, too, but she was still trying to play it off. “Whose money was it anyway?” she asked, but her voice wasn’t as confident anymore.

Dad’s face was getting red, which was never a good sign. “We sold everything from the country house to get that money. It was for your college tuition next year. That was fifteen thousand dollars, Christina.”

Now Christina looked genuinely scared. “Wait—what? You sold stuff from the country house?”

“We sold the boat, all the old furniture, Dad’s tools—everything we could get rid of,” Mom said, her voice shaking. “We’ve been working on this for two months because we couldn’t afford your tuition otherwise.”

That’s when Christina completely lost it. She started screaming and pointing at me. “I didn’t take anything! Betsy spent the money herself and now she’s trying to blame me. She’s lying!”

I turned to my parents. “How much money do you think she could have spent just on the clothes she’s wearing right now? And look at those shopping bags on the couch. They’re full of new clothes with the tags still on them.”

Dad walked over to the bags and started pulling out items—designer jeans, expensive tops, a leather jacket that probably cost more than his weekly paycheck.

“There’s more,” I continued. “I heard her on the phone telling someone she’d sent them ten thousand today.”

“That’s a lie!” Christina screamed. “She’s making it all up!”

I pulled out my phone. “Fine. I’m calling the police right now. I’ll tell them about the theft of fifteen thousand. They can track all your purchases on store security cameras and check all your bank transactions to see where the money went.”

Christina’s face crumpled and she burst into tears. “Okay! Okay, I took it. But I thought it was Bets’s savings. I thought it was money she had saved up from her job.”

I stared at her in complete disbelief. “So you thought my money was just free for you to take? You thought you could steal from me and there wouldn’t be any consequences?”

Even Mom and Dad looked shocked by what she’d just admitted. Dad’s voice was scary-quiet. “Christina, that was money for your college education. We don’t have any other money saved up for you. What were you thinking?”

Christina was crying harder now. “I can return the clothes to the stores. Most of them still have tags.”

“What about the ten thousand you sent to someone?” Dad asked. “Who did you give our money to?”

Through her sobs, Christina managed to say, “I sent it to my boyfriend, Derek. He had gambling debts and people were threatening him. He promised he’d pay it back someday.”

“Someday?” Mom’s voice was getting louder. “Someday? And what else did you spend?”

“I took my friends out to that expensive restaurant downtown. We spent about fifteen hundred there.”

“That money is definitely gone,” Mom said, sitting down heavily on the couch. “I have always defended you, Christina. Always. When Betsy complained about you taking her things, I told her to share. When you got in trouble at school, I made excuses for you. But today, you have crossed every line possible.”

Christina ran out of the room crying, and I heard her bedroom door slam.

Dinner that evening was the most uncomfortable meal our family had ever shared. Christina came down from her room with red, puffy eyes, but she didn’t say a word. She just sat there, picking at her food while the rest of us ate in silence.

Finally, Dad put down his fork and looked directly at Christina. “Your mother and I have made a decision. We’re not going to demand that you pay back the money you stole.”

Christina looked up with hope in her eyes, but Dad wasn’t finished. “However, you’re going to take a gap year from college starting next semester. You’ll get a job and earn your own tuition money from now on. We won’t be giving you another cent for education or anything else.”

“But, Dad, I can’t make that much money,” Christina protested. “College is expensive.”

“You should have thought about that before you gave away fifteen thousand dollars,” Dad said firmly. “This decision is final and not open for discussion.”

Christina started crying again, but I couldn’t help feeling satisfied. Finally, she was going to face some real consequences for her actions.

That night, around midnight, I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. It was Christina, and she looked desperate.

“Betsy, please, I need to ask you something,” she whispered, glancing back toward our parents’ room.

“What do you want?”

“Could you lend me the fifteen thousand? I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I graduate and get a real job. Please—you know how important college is to me.”

I stared at her in amazement. “Are you seriously asking me to give you money after what you did today? After you stole from our parents and ruined their plans?”

“Come on, Betsy. We’re sisters. Family helps family, right?”

“No, Christina. Absolutely not. You made your choice today.”

She stood there for a moment looking hurt, then turned and ran back to her room. I heard her door slam again.

As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I started thinking about all the other times Christina had done stuff like this. When we were kids, she used to take my toys without asking. In high school, she’d borrow my clothes and sometimes return them damaged—or not at all. She even used to steal money from my piggy bank when I was saving up for something special. Every time I complained to Mom and Dad, they’d say the same thing:

“She’s your little sister, Betsy. She doesn’t mean any harm. You need to learn to share. She probably needed it for something important.”

It made me wonder: would my parents be this upset if Christina had stolen my savings instead of their money, or would they still be making excuses for her?

The next morning at breakfast, Christina tried a different approach. She came downstairs looking remorseful and spoke in a small, apologetic voice.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday. I know what I did was wrong. And I promise I’ll never do anything like that again.”

Dad didn’t even look up from his coffee. “Sorry doesn’t change our decision, Christina. You’re not getting another penny from us for school or rent.”

“But I can’t possibly make enough money to pay for everything myself.”

“That’s something you should have considered before you spent our money,” Dad replied coldly. “This conversation is over.”

Later that morning, Christina made a big show of packing her bags. She threw her clothes into suitcases loudly, making sure everyone could hear her stomping around upstairs. Then she dragged everything to the front door.

“Fine,” she announced dramatically. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go live somewhere else where people actually care about me.” And with that, she left.

We didn’t hear from her for an entire day. The next afternoon, the phone rang. It was Grandma, and she sounded upset.

“Betsy, what happened over there? Christina called me crying, saying you all kicked her out of the house and won’t let her finish college properly. She says you’re the one who got her in trouble with your parents.”

I handed the phone to Dad, who explained the whole situation to Grandma. When he was finished, there was a long silence on the other end.

“Oh my goodness,” Grandma finally said. “I had no idea. Christina made it sound like you were all being unfair to her. She asked me to lend her money for school.”

“What did you tell her?” Dad asked.

“I told her I’d think about it, but after hearing this story, there’s no way I’m giving her a dime. In fact, I’m going to check my house right now to make sure she didn’t take anything when she visited last month.”

Over the next few days, our phone kept ringing. Aunt Sarah called, asking why Christina was begging her for money. Uncle Mike called because Christina had shown up at his house with some story about needing help with college expenses. Cousin Jennifer called because Christina had asked her to co-sign for a student loan. Each time, my parents had to explain the real story. Each time, the relatives were shocked—and refused to help Christina.

A week later, Christina came back home on her own. She looked defeated and exhausted.

“I went to everyone,” she admitted, slumping into a chair in our living room. “All the relatives, my college friends, even some of Derek’s friends. Nobody would help me.”

“Are you surprised?” Mom asked.

“Look, I’ll do what Dad wants. I’ll take the gap year and work, but can I at least stay here so I don’t have to pay rent? If I have to pay for my own apartment, too, I’ll never save enough for college.”

Mom and Dad looked at each other, having one of their silent conversations that married couples do.

“You can stay,” Dad finally said. “But you follow our rules, and you don’t ask us for money for anything.”

Two months after all this drama, I finally decided it was time to move out of my parents’ house. I found a nice one-bedroom apartment about twenty minutes away and got all my stuff moved in over a weekend. It felt good to finally have my own space, especially after everything that had happened.

Mom called me a few weeks later with an update on Christina. “She got a job as a waitress at that family restaurant. She’s actually working really hard. She gives us her entire paycheck every week and only keeps her tips for spending money.”

I was surprised to hear that Christina was actually following through on working, but I was glad she was finally learning some responsibility.

Two months later, I went back to visit my parents on a Sunday afternoon. I was curious to see how things were going with Christina and her new job. When I walked into the house, I barely recognized my sister. The girl who used to strut around in expensive clothes and full makeup now looked completely different. Christina was sitting at the kitchen table in plain jeans and a simple T-shirt—no makeup, no fancy manicured nails. She looked tired, really tired, but also somehow more real than I’d seen her in years.

“Hey, Christina,” I said, sitting down across from her. “How’s the job going?”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s hard work. My feet hurt all the time and some customers are really rude, but I’m getting better at it.”

Mom came into the kitchen and gave me a hug. “Betsy, perfect timing. I was just about to tell Christina about the new account we opened for her.”

“What account?” I asked.

Dad joined us in the kitchen, carrying his coffee mug. “We opened a special savings account for Christina. Every week when she brings us her paycheck, we deposit the entire amount into that account. She only keeps her tips for daily expenses.”

“The tips aren’t much,” Christina added. “Maybe forty or fifty a week. I had to sell my new phone and get a cheap one just to have enough money for basic stuff.”

I noticed she was holding an old flip phone, the kind people used ten years ago. It was quite a change from that expensive smartphone she’d bought with our parents’ money.

“We told Christina that she can’t touch the money in that account for a full year,” Mom explained. “After twelve months, we’ll give her access to it, and then she can decide what she wants to do.”

“What do you mean, ‘decide what to do’?” I asked.

Dad’s expression got serious. “She can either use the money to go back to college, or she can give it to that boyfriend of hers. But if she chooses the boyfriend, she’s out of this house permanently.”

I looked at Christina to see her reaction, but she just nodded like she understood.

“Speaking of Derek,” Mom said, lowering her voice even though it was just family in the room, “I overheard Christina talking to him on the phone last week. He was asking her for money again.”

“What did you tell him?” I asked Christina.

“I told him I don’t have any money to give him. He got really angry and said I was being selfish.” Her voice was quiet. “He keeps saying that if I really loved him, I’d find a way to help him with his debts.”

“And what do you think about that?” I asked.

Christina was quiet for a long moment. “I think maybe Derek only likes me when I can give him things.”

Four months later, I found out that Christina had broken up with Derek. Mom called to tell me the news. She said he kept pressuring her for money even after she explained that she didn’t have access to her savings account. When she refused to ask us for money, he started getting mean with her.

“Good for her,” I said, and I meant it. “Did he ever pay back that ten thousand?”

Mom laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “Of course not. Christina finally realized he never intended to pay it back. He told her that money between couples should be freely shared, and that asking for it back showed she didn’t trust him.”

I was angry all over again thinking about that money, but I was also proud of Christina for finally seeing Derek for what he was.

When Christina’s twenty-first birthday came around in December, I went to the bank and withdrew five hundred in cash. I put it in a birthday card and gave it to her when we had her birthday dinner at my parents’ house. Christina opened the card and stared at the money for a long time without saying anything.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered, and I could see tears in her eyes. But then she did something that shocked me. Instead of keeping the money, she handed it to Dad.

“Can you put this in my account, too?” she asked. “I want to save every penny I can.”

Dad looked as surprised as I felt, but he nodded and took the money.

After Christina left the room, my parents and I sat around the table talking. It was the first really honest conversation we’d had in years.

“You know, we messed up with Christina,” Mom admitted. “We spoiled her terribly. We always made excuses for her behavior and never made her face consequences.”

“Remember when she used to take money from Bets’s piggy bank?” Dad asked. “We told Betsy to stop complaining because Christina was just a little kid. We taught Christina that she could take whatever she wanted.”

“I’m glad you finally see it,” I said. “But I’m also glad you’re fixing it now—even if it took something this big to wake everyone up.”

All this time, my parents had been working on fixing up the country house. They’d been going there on weekends, painting and making repairs. In July, they invited me and Christina to spend a week there for a family vacation. It was the first time we’d all been at the country house together since they had sold everything. The place looked completely different—cleaner, brighter, with new furniture they’d bought to replace what they’d sold.

On the third night of our vacation, Christina and I were sitting on the porch looking out at the river. The sun was setting and everything was peaceful.

“You know, I never really understood about money before,” Christina said suddenly. “But now I know how hard it is to earn even fifty dollars. When I see something that costs a hundred, I think about how that’s two days of work for me.”

“That’s a good way to think about it,” I said.

“I keep thinking about that fifteen thousand and how many hours Mom and Dad worked to earn it. And I just gave it away like it was nothing.” Her voice was getting shaky. “That was probably months and months of work for them.”

“It was,” I confirmed. “They worked extra hours and weekends to save up that money.”

“I wish I could take it back,” she said. “All of it—the money, the way I treated you, everything.”

“You can’t take it back,” I told her. “But you can make sure you never do anything like that again.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly. “I swear I won’t.”

Looking at my sister in the fading sunlight, I believed her. She looked different now—not just because of the plain clothes and lack of makeup, but because something had changed in her eyes. She looked like someone who finally understood that actions have consequences.

“Christina,” I said, “I’m proud of how hard you’ve been working.”

She smiled, and it was the first genuine smile I’d seen from her in months. “Thanks, Betsy. That actually means a lot coming from you.”

As we sat there watching the river flow by, I realized that maybe this whole terrible situation had been exactly what our family needed. It had forced all of us to face some hard truths and make some difficult changes. And maybe—just maybe—we were all going to be better people because of it.