I’d been a high-end seafood purveyor for years, cornering the market on wholesale distribution for most of the major restaurants and catering halls in the city. My sister-in-law, Bree’s, event venue was one of my biggest accounts. But every time it came time to settle a bill, she’d send me one of those infuriating, low-value digital "good luck" payments—a random Venmo for sixty-six dollars, maybe less. For my parents’ sake, I’d always swallowed the insult. Until one family dinner, when my brother, Travis, had a little too much to drink and lashed out. "Samantha, how do you sleep at night, knowing you're fleecing your own family?" he’d slurred, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Bree is decent and trusts you when you quote a price, but I checked the books! Other wholesale suppliers charge way less!" Bree had just sat there, pretending she hadn't heard a word. My parents piled on, accusing me of exploiting my own brother. I just smiled, saying nothing. But a few months later, when Bree’s venue landed the biggest wedding of the year—catering for the local magnate, the Van Der Zee family—my luck changed. I saw the $66.00 Venmo pop up. That night, I called my driver. The Van Der Zee wedding would receive the foulest, rotten-to-the-core fish and shrimp I had in stock. 1 I was still busy taking inventory of a new shipment when my sister-in-law, Bree Allen, called. “Samantha, I need the absolute top-tier seafood for this Saturday,” she practically shrieked into the phone. “The Van Der Zees are throwing their son’s wedding reception at my venue, and they booked out every single seat. I cannot mess this up!” She rattled off a list of impossible demands. “It has to be the freshest, the most exclusive. Australian Blue Lobster, Hokkaido Uni, Alaskan King Crab, and I need the French Oysters with the numbered tags, original packaging only!” I managed a chilly laugh. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure it’s delivered right on time.” “Oh, that’s great! I’m sending the payment now. Consider this settled, okay?” My heart sank. I already knew what was coming. Sure enough, it was a random digital payment. I clicked on the notification: $66.00. I stared at the screen, letting out a long, slow sigh before accepting it. It wasn't worth the fight. Bree’s text immediately followed: “Girl, that was $66.00! You’re going to get rich! Six-six is for good fortune, so you better make this delivery perfect for me!” I’d spent three years biting my tongue for Travis’s sake. But this time, the line was crossed. I wasn't going to let this slide. Saturday arrived quickly. I had my driver load up the small truck early and send the delivery over. The Van Der Zee family’s event was colossal. Luxury cars snaked down the block to the Sapphire Ballroom. Bree was out front, playing the perfect hostess, her face strained into a smile that looked painful. She barely glanced at the truck pulling up. With a dismissive wave, she directed a server to take the boxes directly to the back kitchen. When the boxes were opened, the entire kitchen staff froze. The Australian lobster was already rotten. The sea urchins were reeking, weeping sludge. When Bree saw it, she nearly passed out. But the clock was ticking. Dinner was less than two hours away, and the guests were already arriving. There was no time to pull an emergency shipment from another supplier. The sheer power of the Van Der Zee name sent a shiver of terror down her spine. “Cook it!” she hissed, snapping out of her daze. “Cover it up! Use heavy oil, use strong spices—just get it on the plates. We’ll figure the rest out later.” The chefs tried their best, desperately using heavy seasonings to mask the overwhelming stench. The results, as expected, were catastrophic. The faces of the Van Der Zee guests were thunderous. When I got the news, I had to lean against a counter, laughing until my stomach ached. Just then, the door to my wholesale warehouse was kicked open with a sickening thud. I looked up. Travis and Bree stood there, seething, ready to tear me apart. “Samantha Richard! You absolute bitch! You’ve ruined me!” Travis bellowed. I faked innocence, walking toward them with a smile. “What’s wrong? You both look terrible.” Bree lunged at me, her finger jabbing the air inches from my eye. “What did I ever do to you, Samantha? Why did you sabotage me like this? I’m going to lose everything! I'm going to be bankrupt!” She dissolved into loud, theatrical sobs. My parents shuffled in behind them, their eyes full of condemnation. “Samantha, they are your own brother and sister-in-law. You're family! How could you use spite and jealousy to give them rotting food you couldn't sell? Does your conscience not bother you?” 2 My father chimed in, his jaw clenched. “Travis and Bree work day and night to keep that venue running. For three years, they haven’t had a single bad review! You just destroyed their reputation—it's over!” I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. A good reputation? Repeat business? That was my doing. For three years, I’d held the line on quality, never charging them for the hidden costs I absorbed—the five-star chefs I’d flown in, the tight control I kept over the supply chain. I was the one silently covering all their expenses, allowing them to make a killing in just three years. But these leeches saw it as an entitlement, constantly pushing my boundaries. I looked at them calmly, letting the smile drop. “You get what you pay for. They deserved the rotten fish.” "You!" Bree's face turned a mottled shade of purple, her entire body shaking with rage. "Samantha Richard, you’ve hated me since the day I married your brother! And after all I’ve done—giving the Richard family a grandson! I must have been blind to ever trust you!” Hearing this, my parents panicked and rushed to comfort Bree. I rolled my eyes, ready to unleash a fresh wave of sarcasm, when I heard a crash. Travis had grabbed a heavy-duty hammer and swung it at a massive, seven-foot-tall fish tank. Water instantly erupted, showering the floor with glass shards. Several priceless, crimson-finned Platinum Arowana were on the ground, sliced and bleeding. Travis was breathing heavily. “You’re sick, Samantha! I treat you like my favorite sister, and you stab me in the back! If you don’t cut them a check right now, I swear I’ll smash this entire place into rubble!” “Three years, we paid whatever you asked, no questions asked, and this is how you repay us!” I ignored his outburst and focused on Bree. “But, Bree only gave me sixty-six dollars. That’s all sixty-six dollars buys—and honestly, for the sheer volume she asked for, I think I even threw in a few extra rotting scallops.” The injured indignation on Bree’s face wavered, but she quickly ratcheted up her volume. “Samantha, that is a disgusting lie! The $66.00 wasn't the payment! We always pay our vendors monthly. That Venmo was just a customary bonus—a little something extra for good luck before the delivery.” She pivoted to my parents, her voice cracking with apparent sincerity. “Mom, Dad, if Samantha thought the bonus was too small, she could have just said so! I would have sent a bigger one, or even given her a cut of my profit! But she can’t just destroy my business. The Van Der Zees will never let me recover...” My parents were immediately flooded with sympathy for Bree. In their eyes, I was the greedy, evil woman preying on my hard-working sister-in-law. Bree slumped into Travis’s arms, adopting a martyr's tone. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t talk like that. We’re family. I want Samantha to be happy and successful, too. I just… I underestimated how dark someone’s heart could be.” The sheer audacity of her performance made me want to vomit. “If those $66.00 payments weren’t for the goods, then fine. Let's see the monthly wire transfers for the last three years. Pull them up.” Bree’s body stiffened. Her eyes darted around, suddenly unable to meet mine. 3 “Who are you ordering around?” Travis stepped forward, gripping the hammer like a weapon. “I clear every month’s payment. She transferred the money, I know exactly what she paid!” Bree grabbed his arm. “Stop it, honey! Just drop it. I’ll take the loss. I’ll work another job to pay off the Van Der Zee catering hall.” “Not a chance!” I slammed my hand on the counter. “If you can produce evidence—concrete, bank-verified proof that you paid me every cent—I will personally take care of the entire Van Der Zee lawsuit. And, I will publicly kneel before you and apologize for ruining your reputation.” My firm stance made the panic in Bree’s eyes impossible to hide. “We’re family, Samantha. Making a scene like this is embarrassing. I’ve vented my anger. Let’s just call it even.” “No way!” Travis violently shook off her hand. “I won't let her slander my wife! Even if it means ending our relationship, she will grovel to you today!” Seeing his resolve, Bree reluctantly opened her phone. She had clearly prepared for this, pulling up a dedicated folder of screenshots. Travis snatched the phone, zoomed in on the figures, and read the amounts loudly. “Listen up! January 2025: $330,000 paid in full!” “February: $290,000, paid in full!” “March: $410,000, paid in full!” “Well? Should I keep going? What do you have to say now?” A cold dread settled in my gut. “That’s impossible. I never received those payments!” I tried to grab the phone to examine the screenshots, but Travis gripped it tightly, hiding it behind his back. “Stop acting! You just want to destroy the proof that we paid! You made a promise, Samantha. Get on your knees.” I glanced at the smug, victorious look on Bree’s face. “I have every right to question the authenticity of those screenshots! I need to verify them.” Bree spoke with a cutting, wounded voice. “See? I knew it. My sister-in-law is such a fast talker, even with proof, she’ll find another excuse.” Her gaze flickered with a sudden, greedy light. “You know what? You're the older one. Skip the kneeling. Just pay me eight million dollars in damages. Then, we can still be a family.” “A family?” I laughed, the sound brittle. “Fine. You won’t let me see your proof? I have something I want everyone to see, too.” I pulled out my phone. Just as my thumb hit the screen, I heard another massive CRASH. Travis had raised the hammer again, slamming it down on the next fish tank, which held several rare Silver Arowana. Once. Twice. A third time. He looked insane, aiming specifically for the most expensive displays. The hundred-thousand-dollar blood-red coral displays shattered into fragments. “Travis, stop it!” A wave of cold sweat washed over me. I rushed forward to stop him. The tanks he was smashing held pre-ordered ingredients for my top clients, due out tomorrow. If I lost that stock, I’d owe double the cost and my reputation would be ruined. But Travis was seeing red. He lifted the hammer high and swung it at me. It whistled past my ear, grazing my arm before it came down, demolishing another piece of equipment. I clutched my bleeding arm and watched the Silver Arowana flopping uselessly on the wet, glass-covered floor. The last, frayed thread of kinship snapped. “Fine. If you want to talk business, not family, let’s talk business.” I took a deep, steadying breath, pulled up a photo album on my phone, and tossed it to Travis. Bree, who had been looking arrogant just moments before, caught a glimpse of the screen, and her body suddenly swayed.
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