My Crazy Sister-in-law

Ariella, my sister-in-law, sold our family home behind our backs just to meet her favorite celebrity.

And if that wasn't enough, she even tried to set me up on a blind date with a sleazy, middle-aged divorcé- just to get a front-row ticket to her favorite singer's concert.

When the truth came out, she showed no remorse.

Instead, she had the audacity to threaten our entire family with divorce, demanding our support.

1.

In the living room, my parents and I sat on the couch, faces grim, waiting until the early hours of the morning.

Finally, my brother, Kory, walked in with Ariella.

The moment she saw me, her face twisted in rage. She grabbed her purse and flung it at me, cursing. "Cecelia, you little brat! How dare you get Jonathan arrested! Are you trying to ruin me?"

Jonathan, the man she had set me up with, was a notorious creep in the entertainment industry-a sleazy director with a terrible reputation.

And yet, Ariella had the nerve to trick me into meeting him for a blind date!

She described him as a successful, charming gentleman and insisted we were a perfect match.

I hadn't wanted to go, but she kept pushing, and out of respect for my brother, I reluctantly agreed to meet him.

The moment I arrived, Jonathan wasted no time getting handsy.

He grabbed me, whispered disgusting things in my ear, and tried to drag me into a hotel, claiming he had already booked a room.

I fought back, beat him up, and had him sent straight to the police.

During the investigation, I learned that Ariella had orchestrated the entire thing.

She was willing to throw me under the bus-all for a concert ticket that would let her stand closer to her idol.

I was nothing but a stepping stone in her obsessive fan-girling.

My well-being? My dignity? She didn't care in the slightest.

The most infuriating part?

Kory knew all about it.

2.

As I sat there in silence, Ariella grew bolder.

She grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me outside, shouting that I had to apologize to Jonathan at the hotel.

I laughed bitterly.

Then I slapped her across the face.

Kory immediately panicked, rushing to hold her and glaring at me with pure rage. He raised his fist, ready to strike me-

Only for my father to kick him to the ground.

"Kory! Are you even her brother? Your wife tried to sell your own sister, and you can't even see that?"

But Kory, lying on the floor, had no remorse.

"Sell?" He scoffed.

"Jonathan is wealthy and well-connected. Plenty of women would kill for a chance with him. Cecelia should feel lucky he even noticed her! And another thing-Ariella is her sister-in-law. What's wrong with making a small sacrifice for family?"

The moment those vile words left his mouth, my father lost it.

He grabbed a bat and started beating Kory with it.

Ariella, furious, threw a tantrum and shouted, "I've had enough! I didn't marry into this family to be treated like this! So what if I'm a dedicated fan? Is that a crime? If you don't like it, fine! I'll divorce Kory! Let's see how he likes being single for the rest of his life!"

With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Kory shoved my father aside and ran after her without hesitation.

In his rush, my father lost his balance, hit the back of his head against the floor, and immediately lost consciousness.

But my heartless brother?

He barely spared us a glance.

Then, he turned and left without a second thought.

As my mother and I screamed in panic, I even heard him mutter under his breath- "Wouldn't be so bad if he died. At least then Ariella wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense anymore..."

The hospital results came in quickly.

My father had suffered a brain hemorrhage from the impact.

My mother and I stayed by his side through the night, barely closing our eyes.

Thankfully, after a long surgery, the doctor said he had a good chance of full recovery with proper rest and care.

During those months in the hospital, my mother and I never left his side. Even with a hired caregiver, we couldn't bring ourselves to trust anyone else.

And by some miracle, my father pulled through.

He woke up. He was stable. No major complications.

3.

But what truly disgusted me?

From the moment my father collapsed, through his surgery and recovery, a full two months passed.

Kory never called. Never asked about my father's condition.

Never visited.

I wanted to press charges, to make him pay for what he had done. But my mother stopped me.

She said it would only bring shame to the family, that we needed to focus on my father's recovery first.

We could deal with Kory later.

And so, we endured.

On the day my father was discharged, my brother still didn't show up. My mother urged me to stay calm and not act rashly.

But all that patience, all that restraint-

Shattered the moment we got home.

Our house was gone.

A neighbor spotted us standing in shock and hesitated before speaking. "Oh... you came back for one last look, huh? Bad timing-the new owners just changed the locks. You won't be able to get in now."

No wonder my key didn't work.

Panicked, we confirmed the worst- The house had been sold.

And the one who sold it? Ariella.

While my father lay unconscious in the hospital, she had hired a real estate agent, emptied the house, and sold it off.

She took everything of value and threw the rest into the trash.

She told everyone in the neighborhood that we had bought a new place and wouldn't be coming back.

The neighbors had no reason to doubt her.

The most enraging part?

Legally, there was nothing we could do. Last year, my father had transferred the house into Kory's name, thinking it would help with school zoning for his child.

The plan was to transfer it back once they were done.

But now? Since Kory was the legal owner, Ariella had full rights to sell it-with his approval.

We had no home to return to.

With no other choice, we went to Kory's house to confront them.

Ironically, it was our first time stepping foot in his home.

My parents had bought that house for him when he got married- paid in full. They had furnished it, decorated it, made it a true home.

But after Ariella moved in, she changed the locks and passwords.

It was clear she didn't want my parents around.

And my parents, being kind and understanding, had let it go. Because back then, they still had their own home.

Now?

Thanks to Kory and Ariella-That home was gone.

4.

The doorbell rang for a long time before Kory finally opened the door.

When he saw us standing there, his expression soured instantly. "What are you doing here? Great, just great. Ariella was finally in a good mood, and now you're here to ruin it again."

His words, full of disdain and irritation, cut deep.

Dad was still weak from his surgery, and the stress of it all made him clutch his chest, struggling to stay upright.

"Kory, you put Dad in the hospital, and you didn't even bother to check on him once! And now you're standing here, spewing this heartless garbage? Do you even have a soul?" I didn't wait for an answer.

Rage boiled over, and before I knew it, my palm cracked against his face.

Ariella, hearing the commotion, came rushing out-only to get her own taste of it. I grabbed her hair and landed two sharp slaps across her face.

With that, I stormed inside, heading straight for the kitchen. I pulled out a knife, then turned back to face them, my eyes cold and steady.

"You two," I said, lifting the blade slightly. "Who wants to go first?"

They both froze, their faces draining of color.

Step by step, they backed away, terrified that I might actually lose it.

I knew how to fight. I had trained in self-defense when I was younger due to my poor health, and even without a weapon, neither of them could take me. Now, with a knife in my hand, they were completely at my mercy.

Under the weight of my stare, Ariella finally cracked. Tears spilled down her face as she stammered out the truth.

After Jonathan got arrested, her chance at getting those coveted concert tickets was gone.

But she wasn't about to accept defeat.

She spent weeks trying to get her hands on a front-row seat, finally tracking one down through a reseller. The price?

$100, 000.

An absurd, unattainable amount-unless she found a way to steal it. So, she turned to the easiest source-my parents' home.

As long as she sold the house, she would have what she wanted.

She needed Kory's help, but that wasn't hard to get. A few tantrums, a couple of threats about divorce, and he caved completely.

Not only did he sign off on selling the house, but he also told her exactly where my parents kept their valuables.

The house was gone. The money was spent.

There was no way to undo it now.

Ariella was still sniffling, hiding behind Kory, as if that could save her from the consequences.

5.

But before I could press her further, Dad suddenly stepped between us.

He asked me to put the knife down.

I hesitated.

Why should I?

After everything they had done, why should I let this go?

Mom grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

Her eyes pleaded with me.

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, jaw clenched, I slammed the knife back onto the counter.

And as soon as my dad took their side, Kory and Ariella immediately regained their confidence.

Gone was their earlier fear and hesitation.

Especially Ariella- she looked like she wanted to slap me right then and there, but she didn't dare push me too far.

Instead, she resorted to mocking and insulting me, spewing the nastiest words she could think of. And she didn't stop at me- my parents weren't spared either.

It wasn't until everyone finally calmed down that my dad slowly spoke up, "We're not going to dwell on the past. The house is gone, and there's no getting it back."

Kory and Ariella exchanged a glance, their mouths twitching into satisfied smirks. But before they could celebrate, Dad continued. "That means your mother and I have nowhere else to go. So, we'll be living with you from now on. I'm not in great health, so all my medical expenses, treatments, and living costs are on you now. We'll be one big happy family."

Ariella's face darkened instantly. "Oh, hell no," she snapped. "If you don't have a house, go live in some cheap apartment or-better yet-move back to wherever you came from. Why should we take care of you? Blame Cecelia if you want! If she had just agreed to entertain Jonathan, would I have had to sell your house to get the money?"

Kory stayed silent, but the way he nodded in agreement said enough.

My dad clearly hadn't expected this. Kory sold the house, took the money, and now he wouldn't even take responsibility.

Dad's hands trembled with rage as he pointed a finger at Kory and cursed them.

However, Kory cut him off with a cold chuckle. "Oh, please. I don't owe you anything. I'm not even your real son."

6.

The room fell into stunned silence.

"What?" I asked.

I had always noticed how distant Kory was. Even as a child, he never seemed particularly attached to our family.

After he got married, he barely visited, as if we were nothing more than an afterthought.

But I had always chalked it up to his personality-cold, distant, detached.

Not this.

My dad was so enraged that he stopped holding back and spilled the entire truth.

It turned out that my brother wasn't biologically my parents' son.

He was actually my dad's nephew-my uncle's child.

Years ago, my uncle and his wife died in a car accident, leaving Kory orphaned at just six years old.

My grandmother, devastated by the loss of her son, insisted that my dad and mom take him in.

She begged, cried, and forced them to raise him as their own, promising that he would always be treated as part of the family.

At the time, my parents had just gotten married.

They weren't ready to take on such a huge responsibility, but my grandmother's relentless pressure and emotional blackmail left them with no choice.

So, they adopted him.

And for all these years, they truly treated him as their own. My mom poured her heart and soul into raising him, dedicating years of her life to caring for him.

They even delayed having their own child for five years to focus on him.

Later, they supported him through school, helped him buy a house and a car, and covered countless expenses-never once treating him any differently.

However, everything they gave him, every sacrifice they made, was for nothing.

They had raised an ungrateful traitor.

And the most ridiculous part?

When Kory heard the truth, he didn't feel even a shred of guilt or shame.

Instead, he had the audacity to scoff and say, "I'm your nephew-it was your duty to raise me.

Grandma told me that when you two die, everything you have will be mine anyway. So really, I was just getting a head start by selling the house."

And then, as if this whole nightmare hadn't been enough, Kory and Ariella pulled out a stack of paperwork-an official petition to terminate the adoption.

Their signatures were already there, dated the day after they sold the house.

It was obvious. The second my parents were no longer useful, they had decided to kick them to the curb.

"If you know what's good for you, just sign it. Let's cut ties cleanly."

To my shock, Dad agreed.

Without hesitation, without argument-before I could even process what was happening-he picked up the pen and signed his name.

"Tomorrow, we'll finalize everything in court," Dad said, standing up and heading for the door.

I stood there, frozen.

Mom grabbed my arm before I could say anything else, dragging me out of the house before I could even think to protest.

She didn't explain.

She didn't say a single word. All she did was squeeze my hand and tell me that everything would be better tomorrow.

7.

The next day.

The legal process to terminate the adoption went through quickly and smoothly.

From that moment on, we were no longer family.

Kory and Ariella looked smug the entire time, practically giddy with how easy it all was.

By the time we walked out of the courthouse, Ariella smirked at me, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Wow, Cecelia, you're really screwed now. Still in college, and now you're stuck taking care of two old, broke deadweights? Good luck getting married. Hell, good luck even finding a job."

But before I could respond-

A sleek, black Rolls-Royce limousine pulled up to the curb in front of us.

A chauffeur in a crisp suit stepped out and rushed to open the door. He bowed slightly before speaking, "Mr. Dobson, Mrs. Dobson, Miss Dobson, your car is ready."