Cousin Bought $300 Bouquet, Demands $5,200 Refund

On Valentine's Day, my cousin Morton Dickerson wore me down until I sold him 520 roses for three hundred dollars, all to win points with his girlfriend.

The delivery guy had barely dropped the bouquet at the address before Morton came storming at me.

Sophia Dickerson! I bought your flowers because I trusted you! You can't sell me wilted flowers just because I didn't spend much!

I sent him the photos and video I'd taken before the bouquet went out, proof that the flowers I sent were fresh.

Morton wouldn't let it go. He took it straight to the One Loving Family group chat and made a huge scene, demanding I pay up.

"My mom and dad were finally happy I might get married this year, and you go and make my girlfriend break up with me! You're refunding the $5,200 I spent on flowers! And your side owes my family emotional damages on top of that!"

The relatives all took his side. Then my father, without asking me a thing, went ahead and declared:

"Sophia's really crossed a line this time. She should pay Morton fifty thousand, and from now on half of the flower shop's profits go to him every month."

I said Morton had always been too stingy to spring for 520 roses, and now I got it. He'd been counting on freeloading off me and squeezing money out of me on top of it.

They had no decency, so I had none either. I went straight to the address of Morton's girlfriend.

"Hi, the customer just now said there was a problem with the flowers and wants a refund. I'm here to collect them back!"

1.

The 520-rose bouquet I made had just reached its destination when my cousin Morton pinned a lie on me and demanded a refund.

This kind of out-of-nowhere frame job was not something I was going to eat.

There was absolutely no way the flowers I sent out would wilt for no reason.

Morton wouldn't listen to my explanation. He shot back: "The bouquet just got there. You say it can't have wilted, so what, you think I'm lying?"

"Trudy took me forever to win over. This is only our first Valentine's Day together, and you've ruined the whole thing when I finally got a shot at love!"

Lucky for me, I always keep the photo and video whenever I send out flowers, out of habit.

As busy as Valentine's Day was, I hadn't forgotten to do it this time either.

I sent him the evidence I'd saved.

Morton looked at the photos and the video, and on the phone his story flipped.

"You're clearly ripping off family! This bouquet is not the one Trudy got! You figured that since I wasn't the one receiving the flowers, you could pull a switch on me!"

"I bet you shot a whole set of photos and video ahead of time, then swapped in a wilted bouquet when it actually went out!"

Valentine's Day was this crazy.

Where would I even find the time to switch out flowers?

Besides, there was no reason to at all!

Maybe there really was some misunderstanding, so I explained patiently:

"There must be a mix-up. I've got no reason to trash my own shop's name. You're my cousin. What would I get out of cheating you?"

"The flowers that come in every day are fresh. If your girlfriend really did get a wilted bouquet, she can take a picture and show me."

"So you won't admit it?" Morton let out a low snort. "Fine! I'll let everyone decide for me!"

He hung up, then turned right around and ran to the One Loving Family group chat to file his complaint.

Everybody back me up! Today's Valentine's Day, and the flowers Sophia Dickerson sold me for $5,200 were wilted! Now my girlfriend wants to break up with me over it!

At my age, finding a girlfriend is hard enough! We were even talking about getting married this year, and she ruined all of it!

I don't know what Sophia's game is! But now she has to refund every cent I paid for the flowers, plus emotional damages!

He wouldn't answer me straight, and instead ran off to stir things up in the family group chat?

He only spent three hundred dollars on my flowers. Since when did that become $5,200?

Right after that, he dropped a few pictures of wilted roses into the group.

The angle on the bouquet in every shot was exactly the same as the ones I'd sent him.

Only now the roses in them had all gone limp and brown, and a couple hadn't even wilted convincingly.

You could tell at a glance he'd thrown them together with AI in a hurry, fake evidence.

I'd wondered how someone as tightfisted as Morton would ever spring for a 520-rose bouquet.

Turned out he'd wanted my roses for free, and to squeeze a payout out of me on top of it.

2.

Nothing brings the relatives out like this kind of thing.

One after another they jumped in to take Morton's side.

Sophia, this just isn't right! Your brother paid the same as any other customer, so why are you gouging your own family?

Little Morton is your brother. He's almost thirty-five, finally found himself a girlfriend, and you go and ruin it for him?

This is shameful, Sophia. Business runs on honesty!

Exactly! You have to refund this money! If you don't, who's ever going to buy flowers from you again?

How much can one flower cost? You take five thousand two hundred off your brother and hand him a bunch of dead flowers? Is all the money in that shop of yours cheated out of people like this?

Have a little conscience!

Or are you leaning on it being Valentine's Day to fleece your own brother?

Each of them piling on with a line, as if they couldn't drown me fast enough.

I rushed to explain in the group that Morton was using AI to fake evidence and frame me.

Morton switched targets and posted a voice message, working up the sympathy.

"My mom and dad were so happy I'd finally found a girlfriend. We'd agreed that after Valentine's Day I'd talk to her about getting married and starting a family!"

"And look how that turned out! The roses you sold me were dead! My girlfriend blew up at me and broke up with me, the whole marriage is off!"

"You're refunding today's flower money, and you're paying me and my parents damages for the distress! Or this isn't over!"

Morton had been single for years, and now the one relationship he'd finally scraped together was, in his telling, my fault it fell apart.

Naturally, the uncle boiled over.

He called me and let loose a stream of abuse.

"Sophia Dickerson! You little brat, are you trying to make sure the Dickerson name dies out on purpose? Who does business the way you do?"

"Open one flower shop, make a little money, and suddenly you're something? You'd cheat your own family? Buying flowers from you is doing you a favor. You should've given them to your brother for free, how do you even have the nerve to charge him?"

"Are those cheap flowers of yours made of gold? The five thousand two your brother gave you could buy out your whole shop!"

Before I could get a word in, my father's voice came from beside him.

"Take it easy, big brother. Don't work yourself up and hurt your health."

"This girl of mine just has a rotten heart. Probably learned it from her dead mother!"

"There's an old saying, better to tear down a temple than break up a marriage. Sophia's going to refund the full amount and voluntarily pay Little Morton fifty thousand in compensation. That's settled."

The uncle laughed the moment he heard fifty thousand.

"Fine. An apology with that much sincerity, and I'll let it go."

"Sophia, don't learn everything from your mother. She was no good, and an outsider by blood on top of it, while you're a Dickerson."

"Being a Dickerson means you side with your own name. That flower shop of yours right now? Your brother should have half the cut."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

Dragging my dead mother into it again.

When my mother was still alive, it was my father who ruined her name.

He never worked. All he liked to do was play mahjong, and whenever he ran out of money, he'd hold his hand out to her.

But to everyone else, he told it the other way around: my mother was the one who loved mahjong, my mother was the one always begging him for money.

He said she and her side of the family were cold and grasping.

Said they came to him for money at every holiday, said he was the one man supporting that whole crowd of her relatives.

My father's relatives sided completely with him.

Nobody bothered to check. Nobody cared whether any of it was true.

All they cared about was that my father had been wronged, which meant every fault belonged to my mother.

The day after she died, my father emptied out all of her money. He wouldn't even pay for a funeral.

That was when things broke between us, and I never went back.

So now, without knowing a single fact, where did he get the nerve to promise compensation on my behalf?

And my uncle, as shameless as ever.

Back when I wanted to open the shop, my father and my uncle both did everything they could to stop me.

I still remember every ugly thing they said: that a woman should stay home tending to a husband and children, not go parading herself around running a store.

And now the flower shop I built with my own sweat, they wanted me to just hand half the profits to his son?

3.

My father pushed on. "You're the one who's in the wrong here, so don't go acting like the victim."

"Refund your cousin's fifty-two hundred right now and pay another fifty thousand on top. From here on out, half your profits go to Morton every month, and Morton quits his job to run the flower shop with you."

It was almost funny.

I hadn't said a word. He hadn't even given me time to explain.

He'd just gone ahead and agreed to the compensation for me, and now he wanted me to sign away half my profits?

I could only say one thing: not a chance.

"Whoever agreed to the compensation can go pay it. And you want a cut of my shop? Dream on."

"Hey! You ungrateful little brat!" My father was beside himself. "Is that any way to talk to your own father?"

"Having your cousin help run the shop is a privilege for you. A woman parading herself around doing business out there, it's not proper to begin with!"

So now he remembered he was my father?

Openly, quietly, he took the outsiders' side every time. I couldn't see one thing about him that looked like my own flesh and blood.

Morton couldn't wait to jump in.

"Exactly! Me coming down to help with your flower shop, that's for your own good!"

"You really think a man of thirty-five would give up a steady job for that little dump of yours otherwise?"

So the whole clan was in on it together.

They'd clearly put their heads together and worked out a nice little scheme to swindle me.

Did they really take me for such a pushover?

"Forget whatever else you're all scheming. You want a refund, you give me back the flowers, every last stem."

Morton got flustered. "We're doing this for your own good. Don't let your own dirty mind read filth into everything!"

"You saw the proof photo I posted in the group chat, didn't you? Those cheap flowers already wilted, my girlfriend definitely tossed them ages ago!"

"Fine, I'm done arguing with you. Just transfer the compensation over. Tomorrow I'll quit my job and grit my teeth and come help run that dinky little shop with you."

I was so worked up I wanted to scream at him, but he hung up before I could.

I knew a man as shameless as Morton was fully capable of pulling this off.

I never should have caved to his begging and pestering and sold him those flowers.

Who could have guessed that selling one bouquet would drag me into this much trouble?

I was still trying to figure out how to protect myself against him when I saw his girlfriend post something new on her feed.

Wishing everyone a happy Valentine's Day, with the flowers my fianc sent me! And everyone has to come to our wedding next month!

The flowers in her photo were the bouquet I'd made.

I'd been so worked up a minute ago I'd almost forgotten that I'd added his girlfriend as a friend before delivering the flowers.

Huh. Fianc, is it?

A wedding next month, is it?

Coming after me this hard today, and he still thought he could sweet-talk someone into marrying him without a hitch?

He wanted a refund without returning the goods. Fine, I'd go collect the goods myself.

I dug up his girlfriend's delivery address and went straight over.

I knocked on the door.

That 520-rose bouquet sat right in the center of the living room, impossible to miss.

One look and I knew it was the bouquet I'd spent two and a half hours making.

The roses hadn't wilted in the slightest.

Trudy Fletcher stood in the doorway and asked me, curious, "Hi, and you are?"

I answered with a smile.

"Hello, ma'am. A customer just said there was a problem with these flowers and wanted to return them for a refund. I'm here to collect them."

Trudy looked baffled.

"There's nothing wrong with the flowers. I told my fianc how much I love this bouquet. Are you sure you've got the right person?"

Right in front of her, I pulled up Morton's messages from the family group chat.

"I've got the right person. These are Morton's messages in our family group chat. Read them yourself and you'll see."

The more Trudy scrolled, the darker her face got.