All Grandma wanted for her 85th birthday was a quiet, simple dinner. But my Aunt Linda and the rest of the family insisted on something flashier — the most expensive steakhouse in town. Grandma, ever gracious, went along with it, smiling through the evening as we celebrated. What she didn’t know was that behind all the birthday wishes and fake cheer, my cousins had a plan — one that involved me footing the $800 bill.

When the check came, suddenly everyone was “short on cash” or “forgot their wallet.” I could see right through the act. But what truly made my blood boil was when Grandma stepped away to use the restroom — and they all slipped out, leaving her completely alone at the table. They didn’t even care enough to wait. I paid the bill, made sure Grandma stayed calm, and spent the rest of the night with her, just the two of us.

What they didn’t know was that I’d already spoken to the restaurant manager — an old college friend of mine. He made sure every one of those freeloaders was charged their share… with a little added interest for the stunt they pulled. By the next morning, their phones were blowing up with alerts and angry texts. Justice, served with a side of karma.

Grandma called me later that day to say thank you, her voice warm and grateful. I promised her that next year, there’d be no drama just a quiet dinner with the only person who deserved to be there.