My SIL Promised to Pay Me for Her New Roof – I Never Got a Dime Out of the $18,800 She Owed, but She Got What Was Coming to Her

When I agreed to fix my sister-in-law's storm-damaged house, I thought I was just helping out family. I didn't expect to be left nearly 20 grand in the hole or to watch karma catch up with her in the most unexpected way.

I'm a 35-year-old dad from Michigan. My wife Sarah and I have two kids, ages six and three. I recently took a risk and started my own contracting business. Little did I know that my sister-in-law (SIL) would take advantage of my services and then refuse to pay me.

My job was honest work, decent hours, and something I could eventually hand off to my boys one day; that was the dream. But I won't lie, starting out has been brutal, and it's not all it's made out to be.

Things are really tight.

I've been juggling credit cards, bills, material costs, and crew payroll, all while undercharging just to stay competitive. My family has been living modestly—not to save money, but because there just wasn't enough to go around.

I'm not ashamed to say that I've even skipped meals to pay my workers on time, because part of being a good person and boss is ensuring your employees are taken care of.

For weeks, my oldest child needed new sneakers, and we put it off until a few invoices were paid. That's the reality.

Enter my SIL, Tanya, my wife's sister.

Let's just say she believes in... different things.

If you've ever met someone who somehow always needed help but never had a cent to offer, you know the type. Compared to Sarah and me, Tanya is single, has no kids, and no mortgage. She's one of those lucky people who inherit things.

Her late grandmother gave her a two-bedroom house years ago.

She constantly posted on Facebook about how "some people forget who was there for them" right after showing off about eating the latest trendy sandwich, while a homeless person starved in the background of her shot.

She's one of those people who always play the victim or post vaguely about how "some people should learn about loyalty" while wearing a brand-new outfit and sipping a $7 coffee. You'll understand the irony of this post as we go along.

So when a spring hailstorm shredded a bunch of houses in our neighborhood, Tanya was the first one to call.

"My roof is leaking! I'm seriously about to have a panic attack! The garage door won't close, and my siding looks like a raccoon went full psycho on it! I can't live like this!" she cried over the phone.

I was tired that day. I'd just wrapped a small patio job and was hoping to spend that Saturday with the kids. But, without promising too much, I told her I'd swing by and take a look. Family is family, right?

She looked wrecked when I got there, pacing the yard with her phone in hand like she was waiting on lottery numbers. The woman wasn't lying; the damage was real and quite extensive.

I climbed up onto the roof and saw cracked shingles, water pooling in spots that shouldn't exist, and pieces of siding flapping like loose flags.

"Can you fix it?" she asked, gripping my arm desperately. "Please, I'll pay you back the minute the insurance check clears. I promise."

I hesitated. I knew the job would be big, but I also knew I was probably the only contractor she wouldn't need to beg for a quote.

"Alright," I said, "I'll help you out."

She nearly cried with relief, called me a "lifesaver," kissed my cheek, and once even brought my kids cookies while I worked.

Over the next three weeks, I practically lived at her house.

My crew and I did a full roof replacement. I ordered premium shingles because I didn't want her ending up in the same spot after the next storm. We replaced her busted garage door, patched and repainted the siding, redid the window frames, and even installed custom gutters. The gutters alone cost me more than I'd ever admit to Sarah!

But Tanya had promised to pay me back, and I believed her.

We worked in 90-degree heat, hustling to beat the forecast of more storms.

Whenever my SIL was around while we worked, she'd tell anyone interested that I was her "hero."

I trusted her so much that I paid for everything, materials and my crew, out of pocket. She gave me no deposit, and there was no contract. Just a verbal agreement between us, which saw me pouring my savings into everything.

I worked late and even missed dinners with my wife and bedtime with my children while pushing this job.

The final bill came up to a solid $18,800. All of it was charged to my cards and paid out of my already thin bank account. But I kept telling myself it'd come back as soon as her check cleared.

She signed off on everything, and the work was completed on June 6th. I sent her the invoice that same evening.

"Just waiting on the check," she texted. "The insurance check still hasn't arrived."

Fine. I gave her time.

But then July passed, and then August. Still no payment.

"It's the paperwork," she claimed when I called her. "I am still waiting on it to arrive from the adjuster."

By the time September rolled around, I was sweating bullets trying to keep my business afloat!

The pressure was also coming from Sarah, who asked, "Why didn't you get her to sign a contract?"

Stressed by the situation, I called Tanya again, and she said, "They sent it to the wrong address. Don't stress, relax. I'll let you know."

I no longer believed her.

Then, one evening, someone showed up in our driveway.

The person pulled up in a brand-new SUV. I'm talking leather seats, chrome trim, moonroof, the whole thing. My son watched from the porch while eating canned ravioli because that's what we could afford that week.

I walked out and leaned on the railing, wondering who it could be. I didn't have to wonder long.

Tanya stepped out of the car like she was in a vehicle commercial, and for a second, I dared to think, "Finally. She's here to settle."

I didn't bother with pleasantries at that point; I went straight to confrontation.

"Tanya," I said, "did your insurance come through?"

She sipped a Starbucks drink and smiled like she was still in a car commercial. "Yeah, a couple weeks ago."

I stared at her. "So where's my payment?"

She blinked. Then she let out a laugh like I'd just asked for her firstborn!

"Oh! I figured since you're family and are just starting your business, this could be like... a fantastic portfolio piece? Exposure, you know? I mean, don't you already owe me for all the babysitting I did when you were working on my house? That counts for something, right?"

I swear, my heart stopped!

My wife was now standing beside me, and I could see her face go white with rage.

What Tanya was referring to was the one time she babysat for only two hours! And only because I had to go over and do a rushed job of fixing her front door to make sure she could lock it that same night. That was the favor, not the other way around!

"You're joking," Sarah said quietly.

Tanya just waved as if it were a silly misunderstanding and said, "Well, I just came to show you my new car, but jealousy makes people nasty," and she drove off!

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept staring at the ceiling, my thoughts bouncing between stress and pure rage. I got up and ran the numbers; we were short that month. I also had guys who needed to be paid for their labor.

And my youngest kid needed shoes and new clothes for school. I was already behind on the card payments from the supplies I used for her house. And she'd blown off an $18,800 debt like it was optional!

I tried talking myself down, but the bitterness only grew. I'd always been the guy who believed in grace and second chances. But this? This was intentional.

What stung most was her audacity and the smugness, like we owed her.

So I decided to teach her something.

Tanya's favorite hobby was hosting. Her social media was a shrine to her self-proclaimed "luxe taste." This included charcuterie boards, candlelit patios, and "Boozy book club brunches."

She brags online constantly about throwing "Pinterest-perfect parties." My SIL even printed custom invitations for her upcoming big housewarming party, complete with RSVP cards.

And yes, we were invited.

Perfect.

I called up two guys from my crew. They were good guys, trustworthy. I told them to swing by Tanya's house the day before the party and do a quick "warranty check" on the roof. But they weren't there to check shingles. They had another "task."

I instructed them to be polite, smile, but talk just loud enough.

Luckily, her friend group was supposed to come through to drop off last-minute items. I knew some people would be around doing finishing touches for the party, but I'd hit the jackpot!

Sure enough, my guys asked in front of Tanya and her friend group, "Would you like to upgrade any of the free services your brother-in-law generously donated out of kindness?"

My crew told me she turned beet red!

But I wasn't done.

I whipped up a brochure that night. It was simple and clean, with before-and-after photos of the work I did on Tanya's house. It also had my company's name and number and one line in bold:

"Total unpaid balance: $18,800."

Underneath, in smaller print:

"Support local builders — especially the ones who show up for family."

I printed 30 copies.

The next day, I stopped by with the stack of brochures in hand and dropped them off quietly beside the gift table at Tanya's party.

She saw me as I placed them, but then guests started arriving. I saw one or two reading them and passing them around. There were clear whispers and stares.

The next morning, my SIL called, screaming!

"You made me look like a scammer!"

"Did you not lie about paying me?" I asked.

Silence.

Later, she texted Sarah. "I'm being bullied! I thought it was a gift! You guys are cruel!"

Sarah didn't reply. Just sent back one sentence:

"Enjoy your SUV."

And that was it. Or so we thought.

A week later, Tanya's "dream SUV" vanished.

Turns out she'd parked it in front of our house again. Said she was dropping off an apology card. More likely, she was trying to save face.

Unfortunately for her, our security camera caught everything, including the guy who hotwired her car and drove off as if it were a joyride!

The kicker? She didn't have comprehensive insurance. She'd skipped it to save money, so she got no payout.

Tanya had to come begging for the footage. I handed it to the police myself. And that was the last we heard from her for a while.

Most of her friends dropped her after the party. A couple of neighbors who were at the event actually called me for quotes. One said, "If you worked that hard for someone who didn't even pay you, we know you'll do right by us."

And my kid? He got his new sneakers. They're bright blue with lights in the soles. I cried when he put them on for the first time.

So yeah. Tanya got what was coming to her. And I got what I needed: a reminder that kindness is worth it, even when it costs a little more than you planned.

If this story resonated with you, here's another one: When a woman's sister-in-law threw away her mother's ashes without telling her, karma came visiting swiftly on Christmas Day.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.