When my sister-in-law offered to take my kids for a week at her fancy mansion—with a pool, games, and tons of snacks—I truly thought it was a dream come true.
Candace lived in a massive six-bedroom house on ten acres of land. It looked like something out of a celebrity magazine. I imagined my ten-year-old daughter Annie and eight-year-old son Dean laughing in the sparkling pool, jumping on the giant trampoline, and battling it out with their cousin Mikayla on her PlayStation 5.
Mikayla was twelve, spoiled with everything money could buy, but Candace had told me she was bored all summer. This felt like a perfect match.
“That sounds amazing,” I told Candace on the phone, already picturing their bags packed in my mind. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not at all!” she said sweetly. “Mikayla needs company. You’d be doing us a favor, actually.”
A warm feeling spread in my chest. I wanted my kids to have a magical summer, and this felt like the right kind of magic.
“Perfect! I’ll drop them off Friday,” I said.
So that Friday, I packed their swimsuits, favorite snacks, and even gave them each $150 to spend on whatever they liked. I slipped another $150 to Mikayla too—just to keep things fair. My mom always said, “Say thank you with actions, not just words.”
When we pulled into Candace’s long driveway, Annie gave me a big hug before jumping out.
“Thanks, Mom. This is going to be the best week ever,” she said with a big smile.
Dean was already glued to the sight of the pool through the glass doors. “Can we go swimming right now?!”
“Unpack first!” Candace laughed. “They’re excited, huh? Mikayla, sweetheart, can you show your cousins to their rooms?”
Mikayla nodded and waved for them to follow her inside.
“Text me everything!” I called as they hurried in.
Annie grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before disappearing inside.
I drove away smiling, thinking how lucky they were.
I had no idea I was driving away from a nightmare.
For three whole days, I didn’t hear a single word from either Annie or Dean. No funny memes, no calls, not even a random selfie in the pool. It was total silence.
Now, kids live on their phones these days—especially Annie. She was always quick to share a TikTok or ask for updates on the cat. Dean could be forgetful, sure, but Annie? Never.
Something didn’t feel right.
I finally texted Candace on the third day.
“Oh, they’re having SUCH a blast!” she replied quickly. “Pool, candy, cartoons—it’s a full-on kid paradise here!”
I pictured them floating on pool noodles, maybe roasting marshmallows at night, playing board games in the big living room. Maybe they were just too happy to check their phones. So I let it go.
Until day four.
I was wiping crumbs off the kitchen counter when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Annie.
It said only this:
“Mom, come save us. Aunt took away our phones. It’s my only chance.”
My heart dropped. The room spun.
I didn’t call Candace. I didn’t call my husband. I didn’t even think twice.
I ran to my car, started it with shaking hands, and tore out of the driveway. My tires screeched. My pulse was pounding. What had she meant by save us?
My mind raced with a million horrible thoughts during that 25-minute drive.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I actually saw.
I didn’t even park properly. I stopped the car crooked and jumped out. I didn’t bother with the front door. I stormed around the side and into the backyard.
Then I froze.
Dean was on his knees, scrubbing the pool tiles with a brush almost as big as he was.
Annie was dragging a heavy black garbage bag across the lawn, her face red with effort.
And Mikayla? She was lounging like a queen on a pool chair, sipping orange juice from a mason jar and scrolling on her phone.
I looked around, shocked—and then I saw the clipboard.
It was sitting on the patio table. I walked over and picked it up.
At the top, written in bright marker, were the words:
“Annie and Dean’s Daily Chores (For Access to Pool + 30 Min Cartoons):”
Below that was a horrifying list:
- Sweep and mop all bedrooms
- Do dishes and dry
- Fold laundry (all 3 bedrooms)
- Clean bathroom sink and toilet
- Wipe kitchen counters
- Take out garbage & sort recyclables
- Skim and vacuum pool
- Make lemonade for outdoor guests
- Help with evening BBQ (if Mikayla has guests)
At the bottom? Two cheery smiley faces.
My body went ice cold. My fists clenched.
This wasn’t a vacation. It was child labor.
“Oh! You’re early!” Candace came strolling out with a fake cheery voice. “Everything okay? You look… grumpy?”
She glanced at what I was holding and laughed.
“Oh, the chores? Your kids offered to help… Isn’t that sweet? They wanted to earn their pool time!”
Just then, Annie appeared behind her. And her face—her eyes—they weren’t the same bright eyes I’d left behind on Friday. They looked tired, and… broken.
“We didn’t offer,” Annie said quietly. “Aunt Candace said if we didn’t work, she’d take the money you gave us… and make us sleep in the garage.”
The garage?
She threatened to throw my kids into the garage like stray animals?
I was so furious, I couldn’t even look Candace in the face. Not with patio chairs nearby I was tempted to launch at her.
Instead, I turned to my kids.
“Pack your stuff,” I said firmly. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
They didn’t ask a single question. They rushed inside and started throwing clothes into their bags like they’d been waiting for rescue.
“Where are your phones?” I asked.
“She locked them in her bedroom safe,” Dean muttered. “Said we were too distracted to work properly.”
Distracted?! They were eight and ten!
I handed my car keys to Annie. “Go wait in the car. I’ll get your phones.”
Candace was in the kitchen when I marched in. She started talking fast.
“It was just a fun system! They like helping! It builds character! Kids today need structure!”
“Not. Another. Word.” I said through clenched teeth. “Candace, I am this close to doing something I’ll regret. Just give me their phones. Now.”
She actually flinched. She must’ve seen the fury in my eyes. Without another word, she walked to her bedroom and came back with the phones. I snatched them, turned, and left without another glance.
My kids sat silently in the back seat, hugging their backpacks like stuffed animals. No one said a word on the way home.
But I wasn’t done.
The next morning, I sent Candace an invoice.
Labor Services Provided:
2 children × 3 days of work = $600
I listed everything: dishwashing, laundry, pool cleaning, trash removal, guest prep. Every task on that clipboard.
At the bottom, I wrote:
“If you don’t pay, I’ll start sharing photos of your daughter lounging while mine cleaned her lemonade cups. Starting with your book club group chat.”
Guess who Venmo’d me in full an hour later?
And I used every single dollar to give my kids the summer magic they deserved.
We spent two entire days at the amusement park. They had cotton candy for breakfast, went on roller coasters until they were dizzy, got ice cream and funnel cake for lunch, and did absolutely zero chores.
“Mom, this is way better than that pool,” Annie said, grinning, chocolate smeared all over her chin.
“Yeah, and we don’t have to clean anything!” Dean shouted, spinning in circles on the grass.
That night, we collapsed on the couch, eating pizza and watching movies, when Annie quietly said:
“Mikayla had friends over every day. Pool parties, BBQs, sleepovers… and we had to clean everything up after.”
Dean nodded. “She kept saying we should be grateful.”
“Grateful?” I asked.
“She said we were learning responsibility,” Annie whispered.
Responsibility? That woman turned my kids into unpaid housekeepers and tried to call it a life lesson.
Candace called three times that week.
I never answered.
She sent long texts. I deleted them.
She messaged me on Facebook, claiming I was “overreacting,” that “kids need chores,” and that she was just “trying to help.”
Help?!
She stole my kids’ summer, made them clean for her daughter’s parties, and thought I wouldn’t find out?
She thought I’d stay quiet?
She thought wrong.
My kids did learn something that week.
They learned their mom would always come when they needed her.
They learned that work should come with respect—or at least payment.
And they learned that while some adults lie and take advantage…
…the right adults will always protect them.