My VIP MedSpa Card Is Not Your Personal ATM!

On the day I booked my premium MedSpa package, my coworker, Vivian, leaned over my desk, staring at my screen with pure envy in her eyes.

Over the weekend, she suddenly sent me a message on Snapchat: Is that MedSpa you always go to really that good?

I gave her a casual yeah. I never expected to run into her at the clinic the very next day.

She was lying there, taking selfies with an expensive gold foil mask on her face. The aesthetician smiled and said, "This lady checked in under your VIP membership number, Chloe."

I swallowed my annoyance, thinking a basic facial was only about fifty bucks anyway. Whatever.

But when my bank notification popped up at the end of the month, my hands started shaking. In just two weeks, over twelve hundred dollars had been charged to my card.

I rushed to the clinic to check the records, and what I saw nearly made me faint.

She hadn't just been going there every week for high-end treatments herselfshe had brought her daughter, Lily, for acne extractions, and her mother, Martha, for anti-aging therapy.

She had even booked deep-tissue stress-relief massages for her husband, Peter, and her father-in-law, Arthur!

To top it off, every single time, she demanded their most expensive tier-one specialist, plus a full set of premium ampoule serum infusions.

As I stood there shaking, holding the receipts, my phone buzzed. It was a voice note from her.

"Chloe, oh my god, your skin looks amazing! What kind of miracle treatment are you getting?"

Vivians face was almost touching mine, her eyes burning with envy.

I had just finished a season-long treatment package at the MedSpa, and my skin was visibly glowing and smooth.

I leaned back slightly, trying to avoid her overbearing enthusiasm, and said casually,

"Just a clinic I go to regularly. I have a VIP membership there."

"Which one is it? It must be super expensive, right? Are they really that good?" she pressed.

The office was crowded and noisy, and I didn't want to gossip, so I brushed her off with a few vague answers.

To my surprise, while I was scrolling through my phone over the weekend, a Snapchat message from Vivian popped up:

"Chloe, is that MedSpa you always go to really that good?"

Before I could reply, she sent another one:

"Hey, can I use your membership ID just to try it out? Just once. I really want to see if it works."

I hesitated.

My membership was a top-tier pre-paid Platinum card with over twenty thousand dollars loaded on it. You could charge services to it simply by giving the phone number associated with the account.

But then I thought, we are coworkers. We see each other every day. Refusing would make me look petty.

"A basic facial is only about fifty dollars. Letting her try it once won't hurt," I told myself.

So, I sent her the membership number and the clinic's name, adding a specific note:

"Just give them my number. Just try a basic facial first."

She replied instantly: "Omg thank you so much! Love you, Chloe!"

I forgot about it almost immediately.

The following weekend, I booked a body massage and arrived at the clinic early.

Just as I changed into my robe, I heard a loud, familiar voice outside my room.

I pushed the door open and froze.

Vivian was lying in my exclusive VIP treatment room.

She had a luxury gold foil mask on her face, holding her phone up to take a selfie with her other hand flashing a peace sign.

The aesthetician next to her looked incredibly awkward when she saw me.

"Oh, Miss Chloe, youre here."

"This lady said shes your best friend. She checked in using your membership."

Seeing me, Vivian didn't look embarrassed at all. Instead, she sat up excitedly, her mask almost sliding off.

"Chloe! You're here!"

"Look at this! Is this the 'Imperial Youth Gold Therapy' you guys have? It feels amazing!"

Anger flared up inside me.

That "Imperial Youth" treatment cost three hundred dollars per session. It was definitely not the fifty-dollar basic facial I had agreed to.

Vivian kept babbling.

"Wow, your VIP card is incredible. The moment I walked in, they brought me straight to the VIP suite. The service is top-notch!"

Forcing down my rage, I squeezed out a stiff smile. "I'm glad you liked it."

The aesthetician asked cautiously, "Miss Chloe, about this lady's bill..."

"Put it on my account," I said through gritted teeth.

Whatever. Just this once. Consider it a lesson learned.

Vivian happily finished her session and even packed a bottle of high-end serum to go. She smiled warmly at me.

"You're the best, Chloe! I'll come hang out with you here next time!"

I watched her walk away. I felt like a heavy weight was suffocating my chest.

Over the next two weeks, Vivian seemed like a different person at the office.

She wore exquisite makeup every day, her skin was literally glowing, and she walked around with her chin tilted up, speaking with a newfound sense of superiority.

She told everyone she was getting professional skin management at a luxury clinic, but she never mentioned she was using my card.

When some coworkers curiously asked where she went, she just smiled mysteriously.

"Oh, a close friend took me there. It's strictly referral-only. Regular people can't even get an appointment."

Listening to her, I only felt disgust.

I thought that three-hundred-dollar treatment was the end of itthe price I paid for being soft-hearted.

But at the end of the month, I opened my banking app to check my auto-pay accounts, and a charge of 0-0,250 stared back at me.

"Your card ending in 6051 has processed a charge of 0-0,250 at Sterling MedSpa."

I stared at the numbers, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. I had barely gone to the clinic this month!

I immediately called my bank to confirm. Yes, the transactions were real. Several large charges had been made, all from that MedSpa.

My hands shook violently as I gripped my phone.

I drove straight to the clinic. The receptionist greeted me with her standard professional smile.

"Welcome back, Miss Chloe."

I slammed my phone on the counter, my voice cold. "Pull up my recent transaction history. Right now."

The manager, Mr. Sterling, heard the commotion and hurried over to personally pull up the records.

When the statement was printed out, it was a long, ridiculous list. Looking at it, I almost fainted.

First charge: Vivian, Gold Therapy, $300.

Second charge: Vivian, brought a ten-year-old girl (Lily), deep-pore cleansing for both, $200.

Third charge: Vivian, brought an older woman (Martha), premium anti-aging therapy, $400.

Fourth charge: Vivian, brought two men (Peter and Arthur), deep-tissue stress relief and scalp therapy, $350.

She hadn't just been going there for weekly luxury treatments herself. She had dragged her entire familyher daughter, her mother, her husband, and her father-in-lawand charged it all to me!

And the most infuriating part? Every single line item had a note: Requested tier-one specialist, added premium ampoule serum infusion.

This wasn't "trying out" a clinic. She was using my membership card as her personal ATM!

Manager Sterling was sweating, apologizing profusely.

"I am so sorry, Miss Chloe. This was our mistake."

"The lady kept insisting she was your sister-in-law and your closest friend, so we thought..."

"Did she sign for these?" I cut him off.

The manager looked uneasy. "She said you gave her full verbal authorization, so... she didn't sign."

What a "closest friend." What "verbal authorization"!

Holding those paper receipts, I was shaking with sheer rage.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

It was a voice note from Vivian.

I tapped play. Her cheerful, incredibly entitled voice echoed in my ears.

"Chloe! Oh my god, your spa card is literally a lifesaver!"

"Peter's mom said she feels ten years younger after that anti-aging treatment!"

"Oh, by the way, can you ask them if they have any kid-friendly facials? Lily said her skin feels a bit dry lately, so I want to bring her in for a full package too."

The voice note was only forty seconds long, but every word hammered against my skull.

Not a single ounce of guilt. Just bragging and demanding more.

She truly believed she was entitled to all of this.

I took a deep breath, locked my phone, and looked up at the manager. My voice was deadly calm.

"I want a copy of all security footage of her visits, along with a detailed itemized receipt for every single charge."

"Right now."

The manager didn't dare hesitate and rushed to get it done.

Half an hour later, I walked out of the clinic holding a USB drive and a thick stack of invoices.

The sun was bright, but I felt freezing cold.

The next day, I went to work as usual.

When Vivian saw me, she ran over enthusiastically.

"Chloe! Where were you yesterday? I texted you but you didn't reply!"

I looked up at her face, which was looking radiant thanks to my money, and said calmly,

"Vivian, my spa card was charged over twelve hundred dollars last month. Was that you?"

I kept my voice low, but the coworkers nearby, who already had their ears perked up, heard me.

Vivians smile froze, and then she let out an exaggerated gasp.

"Oh, that! I thought you knew!"

"You're the one who told me to go."

"I mean, you have so much money sitting in that account anyway. I was just helping you use it before it expires!"

She spoke loudly, making it sound like I was the one being cheap and dramatic.

"My membership is pre-paid. It never expires," I said, enunciating every word.

"Oh, what does it matter!" She grabbed my arm, pretending we were best friends.

"Come on, we're practically sisters! What's yours is mine!"

"Besides, I brought my family to test out their services for you! Now you know which treatments actually work!"

Her twisted logic was truly mind-blowing.

I shook her hand off and stared at her coldly. "So, you have no intention of paying me back?"

Vivians face finally darkened. She dropped the act, her voice turning sharp.

"Chloe, are you serious right now? You're going to ruin our friendship over a petty thousand dollars?"

"I really misjudged you! It's just a few hundred bucks here and there. Is it that big of a deal?"

"Think about how much you make a month. This is pocket change to you!"

Her outburst gathered a crowd of onlookers in the office.

People started whispering, casting strange looks at me.

To them, I probably looked like a wealthy, heartless bully who was picking a fight with a friend over pennies.

Looking at her self-righteous, victimized face, I suddenly smiled.

I realized there was no point in arguing with someone this delusional.

Without another word, I turned back to my desk.

Vivian continued her loud complaints behind my back about how "stingy" I was.

I ignored her, plugged the USB drive into my computer, and opened the files.

On the screen, high-definition footage of Vivian and her family walking into the spa over and over again played perfectly.

Since you threw away your dignity, don't blame me for what comes next.

For the next few days, Vivian treated me like her worst enemy.

She rallied a few coworkers she was close with and actively frozen me out.

Whenever I walked into the breakroom, they would immediately stop talking.

At lunchtime, they made sure to sit at the table furthest from me.

Even during work collaborations, she maintained a cold, strictly bureaucratic attitude, intentionally delaying my requests.

Rumors started spreading like wildfire.

"Did you hear? Chloe is practically suing Vivian over a spa bill. They aren't even friends anymore."

"Yeah, so petty. I thought Chloe was generous, but I guess she's just a control freak."

"You never really know a person. Vivian was always so nice to her."

I saw everything and heard everything, but I didn't say a word.

When a person is blinded by greed, words are useless.

Only real pain will wake them up.

I kept going to work, hitting the gym, and visiting my MedSpa as usual.

Except this time, I met with Manager Sterling and made a special arrangement.

"Starting today, my VIP account requires a fingerprint and a secondary passcode to authorize any charge," I told him.

"Also, if Vivian comes back, tell her that I have set up a special 'Family Add-On Card' for her. Tell her she can charge everything directly to that card from now on."

The manager looked confused, but he nodded and agreed.

Of course, I wasn't actually giving her a card.

I was giving her a signala bait to make her believe I had backed down, so she would become even more reckless.

I had the manager send her a message from the clinic's official Snapchat business account:

"Hi Vivian, Chloe mentioned there was some misunderstanding previously. She has set up a Family Add-On Card for you as an apology. You can charge any future services to this card. Welcome back anytime!"

Sure enough, by Friday evening, my MedSpa app sent me a notification.

A new booking.

Client: Vivian.

Service booked: Grand Royal Couples Package (4 hours), priced at $999.

Time: Saturday at 10:00 AM.

Looking at the notification, my lips curled into a cold line.

The audacity of this woman.

She was icing me out at the office, yet she didn't hesitate for a second to book their most expensive package.

I didn't cancel the appointment, nor did I call to confront her.

I simply sent a message back to Manager Sterling:

"Let her and whoever she brings check in tomorrow. Give them the full service. Business as usual."

The manager replied instantly: "Understood, Miss Chloe."

Putting my phone down, I looked out at the city lights. There was no anger left in me, only an icy calm.

Vivian, this was your last chance.

Saturday morning, 9:55 AM.

I sat on the lounge sofa in the MedSpa lobby, pretending to read a magazine, keeping my eyes on the entrance.

Right at 10:00 AM, Vivian walked in, arm-in-arm with her mother, Martha. They were laughing and chatting.

Vivian was dressed up to the nines today, carrying a designer bag, her face glowing with triumph.

The receptionist greeted them warmly. "Hi Vivian, your private suite is ready for you."

Vivian didn't even look at me. She strutted past me like a proud peacock.

Her mother, however, glanced at me and whispered to Vivian, "Isn't that your coworker?"

Vivian sneered, her voice loud enough for me to hear.

"Just ignore her. She's a cheapskate."

"She tried to pick a fight with me over a few bucks last week, but look at her now. She practically begged me to accept this family card."

"Some people just need to be put in their place!"

I turned a page of my magazine, a cold smile playing on my lips.

The show is about to start.