I’ve worked tirelessly to build my freelance design career from the ground up. Every penny I earned went toward tools that helped me grow — including a $2,200 iPad Pro that became the core of my business. So, when my sister’s children broke it during a holiday visit — after she gave it to them without asking — I was devastated. Her response? Laughter and a dismissive, “You can afford another one.” There was no apology, no offer to replace it — just entitlement.
This wasn’t the first time Josie had taken advantage of me. Over the years, she’s borrowed money under false pretenses and never repaid it, expecting my unconditional support simply because we’re family. I’ve always stayed silent, letting her off the hook. But this time was different. That iPad wasn’t just a gadget — it was my livelihood. And watching her treat it like a toy finally pushed me to take a stand.
When I calmly asked her to pay for the damage, she laughed again. She called me dramatic and heartless, saying family should forgive and forget. But forgiveness doesn’t mean accepting repeated disrespect. I made it clear: I wouldn’t be covering for her irresponsibility anymore. I left the house that evening without saying goodbye to her and filed a small claims case the next day.
She called days later, furious that I was “suing family.” But I told her the truth: I wasn’t suing over a broken tablet — I was holding someone accountable who had never been told “no.” Sometimes, the lesson isn’t just about money. It’s about finally setting the boundary that should’ve been there all along.