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My Sister-In-Law Invited My Kids to Her Fancy House …But When I Arrived Unexpectedly I Was Shocked
When my sister-in-law, Candace, called and invited my kids to spend a week at her luxurious home, I thought it was the perfect opportunity. Her place was massive—six bedrooms, ten acres, and a pool straight out of a magazine.
I pictured my daughter, Annie (10), and my son, Dean (8), splashing in the water, bouncing on the trampoline, and bonding with their 12-year-old cousin Mikayla over video games and late-night snacks.
Candace sounded upbeat.
“Mikayla’s been so bored,” she said. “It’d be great for her to have them around.”
I hesitated. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not at all! You’d actually be doing me a favor.”
That sealed it. I packed their bags with excitement—snacks, swimsuits, and even gave each of them $150 for fun. Wanting to be fair, I discreetly handed Mikayla the same amount when I dropped them off. I’ve always believed in showing gratitude through actions, not just words—something my mom taught me.
Annie gave me a tight hug before running inside. “Thanks, Mom! This’ll be the best week ever!”
Dean was already eyeing the pool with wide eyes.
Candace laughed. “They’re ready to dive in. Mikayla, show them to their rooms?”
As I drove away, I imagined a week full of sunshine, laughter, and cousin bonding.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Three days passed. Not a single message. No photos, memes, or texts. That wasn’t like my kids—Dean might forget, but Annie was always thoughtful.
On day three, I texted Candace. She replied quickly:
“They’re having a blast! Pool, candy, cartoons—it’s a dream week!”
I tried to believe her. Maybe they were just too caught up in the fun.
Then, on day four, I got a text from Annie. Just a few words, but they hit me like a punch to the gut:
“Mom, come save us. Aunt took away our phones. It’s my only chance.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t call. I grabbed my keys and drove.
The 25-minute drive felt like an eternity. My hands trembled the entire way. Why had she taken their phones? What was happening?
I pulled into Candace’s driveway and ran straight to the backyard. Then I froze.
Dean was on his knees scrubbing pool tiles with a giant brush. Annie was dragging a heavy trash bag across the lawn, her arms straining.
Mikayla? She was lounging under an umbrella, sipping juice from a mason jar like royalty.
Then I saw it: a clipboard on the table.
“Annie and Dean’s Daily Chores (For Access to Pool + 30 Min Cartoons)”
I scanned the list in disbelief:
- Sweep and mop all bedrooms
- Wash and dry dishes
- Fold laundry (all three bedrooms)
- Scrub bathroom sinks and toilets
- Wipe kitchen counters
- Take out the garbage and sort recycling
- Skim and vacuum the pool
- Make lemonade for Mikayla’s guests
- Help with evening BBQ prep
At the bottom: two smiley faces.
My stomach dropped. This wasn’t a vacation. This was child labor.
Candace emerged from the house, all smiles. “You’re early! Everything okay?”
She saw the clipboard and said, “Oh, those chores? They offered to help! Sweet, right?”
Before I could speak, Annie appeared behind her.
“We didn’t offer,” she said quietly. “Aunt Candace said if we didn’t do the work, she’d take our money and make us sleep in the garage.”
The garage.
That was it.
“Go inside and pack. We’re leaving,” I said.
They didn’t ask why. They just ran.
“Where are your phones?” I asked.
“She locked them in her bedroom safe,” Dean said. “She said we were too distracted to work.”
I handed Annie the car keys. “Wait in the car. I’ll get them.”
Inside, Candace started sputtering. “It was just a fun system! Kids need structure! They love helping!”
I stared her down. “Not another word. Give me the phones. Now.”
She froze, then quietly walked to her room and returned with them.
I took them without saying a word and left.
We drove home in silence. The kids were quiet, shaken.
But I wasn’t done.
The next morning, I sent Candace an invoice:
Child Labor Services
2 children x 3 days = $600
- Dishwashing, pool cleaning, laundry, bathroom scrubbing
- Event prep, guest service, yard maintenance
Note:
“If you don’t pay, I’ll post photos of Mikayla lounging while my daughter cleaned up her lemonade. Starting with your book club group chat.”
She Venmo’d me the full amount within the hour.
I used every penny to take the kids to an amusement park for two days.
Cotton candy for breakfast. Funnel cake for lunch. Roller coasters until they couldn’t stand.
And not a single chore in sight.
That night, curled up with pizza and movies, they told me everything.
Mikayla had friends over almost every day. Annie and Dean were made to clean up after all of them.
“She kept saying we should be grateful,” Annie said softly. “That we were learning responsibility.”
Responsibility? No. That wasn’t a lesson. That was manipulation.
Candace called three times that week. I didn’t answer. She sent texts, full of apologies. I deleted them all.
My kids did learn something that week—but not what Candace intended.
They learned that their mom would always come when they needed her.
That their time and effort had value.
And that even when family tries to take advantage of them, they are never alone.
Because I will fight for them.
Every. Single. Time.
You’ve just read, My Sister-In-Law Invited My Kids to Her Fancy House. Why not read Manager Had To Hire A New Employee.
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