During my birthday party, my sister secretly stole my debit card information, and the next

During my birthday party, my sister secretly stole my debit card information, and the next day I received a $9,000 charge for a Rolex watch. When I immediately told her to return it, she laughed and said, there's only $3 left in the balance, but I couldn't stop laughing. The card she used was, my name is Kelly.
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 Today, I turned 30. The party my friends threw for me was dazzling, filled with warm laughter. By all accounts, it should have been a happy scene, but my mind was elsewhere. This wasn't just some kind of celebration, it was the start of a carefully orchestrated social experiment. And today, my younger sister Nicole, was to be its subject.

It all began a few weeks ago with a subtle shift in my daily routine and a single phone call. Hey Kelly, do you have a minute? Nicole's voice over the phone was sickly sweet. I knew that tone well, it always meant one thing, money. What's up? Well, I have this friend who's starting a new business. It's a really promising investment.

Would you be willing to put in a little money? Just a small amount, really, I side at the word investment. Whenever Nicole talked about investing, it usually meant a new designer bag or a trip abroad. Nicole, did you manage to pay your rent this month? What? Why are you asking me that? Of course, I paid it.

Stop treating me like a child. I must have hit a nerve. Her voice instantly turned shrill and defensive. I'm not lending you any more money. You need to start living within your means first. And I hung up. That might have been our last normal conversation. A few days later, I got a call from Erica, a mutual friend.

She sounded completely worn out. Kelly, I'm so sorry, but it's about Nicole. She said hesitating. Erica confessed that she had lent Nicole $3,000 the moment she asked for it back. Nicole lashed out at her. She told me only small-minded people obsess over money. But then when I checked her social media yesterday, there she was bragging about a brand new Chanel bag when I'm sure she bought with the money.

I lent her. Erica's voice shook more with sadness than anger. After I thanked her and hung up, I opened Nicole's social media account. There I found a version of my sister. I barely recognized her successful self. A picture of her sipping champagne in a luxury hotel lounge was captioned. Boss Lady Weekend, a photo of newly purchased designer goods.

Read, treat Yourself Hard. Work pays off. The kicker was a picture of the Chanel bag in the passenger seat of a rental car, her hand on the steering wheel. New ride, working hard. Her comment section was filled with clueless acquaintances showering her with compliments. So cool. I'm so jealous, but I knew the truth.
 Her closet was full of clothes with the tag still on. Shoes never taken out of their boxes. She didn't actually want the things themselves. She was addicted to the act of buying things into showing off those purchases for validation. It had gone far beyond vanity or extravagance. This was a pathological shopping addiction, and Nicole never missed a chance to insult me.

Must be nice, Kelly. You just sit at your computer all day and get paid. You don't have to work on yourself or meet people like I do. She always looked down on my work as something only boring people do, but she also knew I had built up a comfortable nest egg through diligence. Meanwhile, Nicole bounced from one part-time job to another.

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