My Sister Took My Husband When I Was Pregnant. After 5 Years, She Wants A $6,000 Gift For The Baby

It was a stark contrast to the leased Mercedes SUV parked in Hannah’s driveway. When we finally pulled up to the house, the villa itself was a monument to trying too hard.

It had columns that didn’t support anything and a fountain that wasn’t running. It was a stage set designed to impress people who didn’t know any better.

I stepped out of the car, smoothing my linen trousers. I wasn’t wearing jewelry, just my wedding band.

Hannah, by contrast, opened the front door looking like a walking billboard for a fast fashion brand’s idea of wealth.

“You made it,” she said, her voice pitched high and tight.

She didn’t hug me. She air-kissed near my cheek, careful not to smudge her heavy makeup.

“I was worried you’d get lost,” she said.

“It’s quite a maze in here for people who aren’t used to this level of security,” she added.

“We found it just fine,” Jason said smoothly.

He shook her hand, and I saw his eyes do a quick, terrifying scan of the room. He wasn’t looking at the decor; he was looking at the assets, or the lack thereof.

We walked into the living room. It was furnished in white leather and glass: cold, impractical, and expensive.

But as I sat down on the sofa, I noticed the tag tucked discreetly under the cushion. It was a rental barcode, the kind used by high-end staging companies.

Jason noticed it, too. Then Joshua walked in.

If Hannah was the manic energy of the delusion, Joshua was the cost. He looked 10 years older than 32.

His shoulders were slumped, and his skin was gray and pasty. He wore a polo shirt that was too tight, straining against a stomach that spoke of stress eating and cheap alcohol.

He didn’t look at me. He looked at the floor, muttering a hello that sounded more like an apology.

“So,” Hannah said, clapping her hands together as she perched on the edge of an armchair.

“What do you think we wanted plenty of space for the little prince he’s going to be the heir to the architectural legacy after all,” she continued.

She patted her stomach just as she had 5 years ago.

“Joshua’s family is so thrilled we need everything to be perfect,” she said.

She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my plain blouse.

“I see you’re still economical with your style Emily that’s good it’s smart to save money when you need to,” she remarked.

The insult was so blunt it was almost funny. 5 years ago it would have stung; now it just felt like watching a child play dress up in clothes that didn’t fit.

She had no idea that the linen I was wearing cost more than her entire outfit. She couldn’t see quality; she could only see logos.

“We try to be practical,” I said, my voice steady.

“Well practicality is fine,” she sniffed.

“But family is about generosity speaking of which,” she added.

She extended a manicured hand, palm up, her eyes gleaming with naked greed.

“Did you bring the contribution the decorator is coming tomorrow and we need the deposit,” she asked.

Joshua flinched. He actually closed his eyes as if the shame was physically painful.

Jason stood up. He didn’t reach for his wallet; he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick, heavy envelope made of cream-colored card stock.

It looked important. It looked expensive.

“We brought something better than a check,” Jason said.

Hannah’s eyes lit up. She practically snatched the envelope from Jason’s hand, her fingers digging into the expensive card stock.

I watched her weigh it in her palm, her mind racing with calculations. It was thick and heavy.

To someone like Hannah, weight meant cash. It meant piles of bills that could be spent on appearances, on silencing the creditors for another month, on maintaining the delusion that she was better than everyone else.

“Oh Jason,” she cooed.

Her entire demeanor shifted from hottie to saccharine in a nanosecond.

“You really didn’t have to go all out but I suppose when you’re successful generosity just comes naturally,” she said.

“It does,” Jason agreed, his voice dangerously level.

“Go ahead open it we want to make sure you see exactly what we’re contributing,” he urged.

Joshua leaned forward, a flicker of hope in his dull eyes. He probably thought this was his lifeline.

He probably thought this envelope was going to save him from the crushing pressure of living a lie he couldn’t afford.

Hannah tore the seal. The sound was loud in the quiet room, a sharp rip that echoed like a gunshot.

She reached inside, expecting the crisp friction of currency. Instead, her fingers met the smooth, glossy surface of stapled documents.

She pulled them out, a stack of papers dense with columns, numbers, and red ink. For a moment there was silence.

Hannah stared at the top page, her brow furrowing. She flipped to the second page, then the third.

Her smile faltered, then vanished. Her face went from confused to pale to a sickly shade of gray.

“What is this?” she whispered.

The paper shook in her hand.

“It’s a statement,” Jason said.

He crossed his legs, looking perfectly at ease in the center of their collapsing world.

“A comprehensive financial statement you see Hannah when you applied for that platinum line of credit 3 weeks ago you authorized a full forensic audit of your assets and liabilities most people don’t read the fine print i do,” he explained.

Hannah dropped the papers onto the glass coffee table as if they were burning her skin. They fanned out, revealing the truth she had been hiding for years.

“That isn’t money,” she choked out.

“No,” Jason replied.

“It’s reality,” he said.

He leaned forward and tapped the summary line at the bottom of the first page.

“Total outstanding unsecured debt $248,000 you have six maxed out credit cards three personal loans in default and a lean on this luxury furniture that you haven’t paid for in 4 months,” he detailed.

Joshua made a sound, a strangled gasp of air. He grabbed the papers from the table, his eyes scanning the columns frantically.

“200 hannah what is this you said the investments were paying out you said we were liquid,” he demanded.

“We are,” she shrieked, her voice cracking.

“This is a mistake he’s lying he’s just trying to humiliate us because he’s jealous,” she shouted.

“I’m not jealous Hannah,” Jason said, his voice cutting through her hysteria like a scalpel.

“And I’m not lying i’m the director of the division that denied your application you’ve been living on a credit line that expired 90 days ago you aren’t solvent you are technically insolvent,” he stated.

He stood up then, and the room seemed to shrink around him. He wasn’t the polite brother-in-law anymore; he was the institution.

He was the consequences she had been running from.

“You asked for a contribution,” Jason said coldly.

“This is it i’m not here to give you money for a nursery you can’t afford i’m here to collect the collateral on the life you stole,” he declared.

“That’s a lie,” Hannah screamed, her voice cracking into a desperate, jagged sound.

She tried to swipe the papers off the table, but they scattered across the floor face up, like an accusation that refused to be silenced.

“Those are old cards i paid them off years ago this is This is privacy infringement i’ll sue you,” she threatened.

Jason didn’t even blink. He didn’t raise his voice.