What I got instead made my skin crawl.
“If you don’t give me the money, maybe your precious house won’t be standing much longer. Accidents happen, you know,” she threatened.
“Did you just threaten to burn my house down?!” I asked.
“Call it a prediction,” she said, and hung up.
Two weeks later, around 3 a.m., I woke up coughing. My bedroom was filled with smoke!
I grabbed Jasper, now seven, and sprinted outside. Flames were licking up the living room curtains. By the time the fire trucks arrived, the place was gone!
The fire department later confirmed it was arson—set intentionally.
The investigation didn’t find hard proof, but I knew who it was.
No one else had a motive. Marissa didn’t even bother pretending to be surprised. She sent one text after the fire: “I hope someone will be willing to help you, the way you were so keen to help me.”
I was livid!
Everything we had, from photos to furniture to memories, was all gone!
The loss was devastating, and the betrayal felt endless.
I called the police, and they investigated, but didn’t find anything solid. There was no evidence and no confession. My sister never openly admitted what she did to anyone—not family or the police.
That was the final straw.
I cut all ties and blocked her.
I told our mom and relatives that she’s toxic, and I would not have her threatening our lives or safety. She was clearly DANGEROUS!
With nowhere to go, Jasper and I moved into a tiny apartment. The trauma was unbearable.
My mom, who had been living in the house she shared with Dad, now in the company of a professional caretaker, asked to stay with us to help. Though my new place was barely big enough for the three of us.
That’s when I learned another truth: Marissa had taken out a massive loan and used Mom’s house as collateral!
My sister had forged her name on the paperwork! When I confronted Mom, she cried in the kitchen for hours.
Marissa had told her it was just temporary, then defaulted on the loan!
Having lost the house, Mom had no choice but to stay with us. She didn’t complain once, but I saw the way she folded the same towel over and over, and how she stared at the door as if waiting for her life to return.
Marissa’s wedding did go on. Some of it was paid for by Brent’s parents.
And Mom, desperate not to see her youngest daughter disgraced and failing to learn her lesson, emptied her savings.
I didn’t go, nor did Jasper. I heard there were fireworks and an ice sculpture shaped like a peacock.
A few months later, Mom passed away suddenly. They said it was a stroke.
She had always been fragile, but I think the loss of Dad, her home, and her faith in Marissa was too much.
At the reading of her will, there was almost nothing left. My poor mother had drained most of her accounts to help fund Marissa’s life over the years. My sister didn’t even bother attending.
She probably knew the truth would finally come out, and I wouldn’t be too pleased.
For a while, I thought that was the end. I worked long hours and raised Jasper. I kept my head down until I got a shocking voicemail.
“Hello, this is Susan from Crescent Credit Recovery.
We’re trying to locate Marissa. She has large outstanding balances from gambling accounts. Please do contact us if you can help.”
“Gambling,” I whispered, confused.
That’s how I found out that Marissa and Brent had been on a casino tour and online poker sites. They blew through Mom’s money, whatever wedding gifts they had left, and even Brent’s retirement fund.
I hadn’t seen my estranged sister in over a year when I ran into her outside a gas station.
It was raining, and she was standing under the awning in a hoodie that barely fit, hair soaked, mascara bleeding down her cheeks.
She was clutching a soggy paper cup that held a few coins.
“Liza?” she croaked.
I didn’t recognize her at first. Her eyes were hollow, and her hands trembled.
Surprised, I pulled her aside into the gas station store.
She collapsed into sobs and told me everything.
Brent left her; she was homeless and owed over $80,000, with creditors hounding her. She had been sleeping in shelters and panhandling. She cried harder when she said she missed Mom; we all know why.
“I lost everything else gambling.
I messed it all up, and now I’m alone. I’m sorry, Liza. I really am.”
I stared at her, shaking with rage.
“You burned my house down.
You threatened my child. You made Mom homeless. Why should I help you?” was what I wanted to say.
I wanted her to know the trauma she caused, but instead, I said quietly:
“I’ll forgive you. But only if you change. No more lies, gambling, and fake lives.
If you’re serious, you’ll prove it.”
She agreed. “I’ll do anything,” she said.
So I gave her a chance. I offered her a job at the company where I worked in the human resources department.
It was an entry-level, temporary position with no handouts. It was a one-month probation position; one mistake, and she was out.
I know that was a huge risk on my part, especially after all she’d done.
But my sister surprised me, maybe it took her hitting rock bottom for things to change. However, she showed up every day and was never late.
She also didn’t post anything online: no fake brunches, no luxury hashtags, just quiet, consistent effort.
Marissa, who stayed with Jasper and me, also took care of my son after school sometimes. He slowly warmed to her as they rebuilt their relationship.
Three months in, she made a down payment to reclaim our parents’ house. It was my suggestion, and I helped her set up a payment plan.
I was shocked when she made it work!
Six months later, she signed it over to Mom’s estate. Then, on my birthday, she handed me an envelope with a letter.
“I can never undo what I did. But I hope I can start to make it right.
I’ve arranged for you and Jasper to move into our parents’ house. Consider it a small repayment for the home I took from you.”
Now, two years later, she’s grounded, responsible, and married to a sweet man named Kyle. They didn’t have a lavish wedding, just a backyard ceremony with paper lanterns and barbecue.
They had a daughter last spring!
I still don’t trust her completely; I probably never will. But as I watch her cradle her baby and laugh with Jasper, I feel something loosen inside me. Maybe some people can change.
And maybe Dad would be proud of me for standing my ground, and of her, for finally becoming the sister I always wanted.
