When my cousin Brandon hired me to photograph his wedding for just $250, I knew it was low—but I agreed as a favor. I’m a professional dog groomer and hobby photographer, not a wedding pro, but I wanted to help family. On the wedding day, I quickly realized they had plenty of money—lavish flowers, custom cocktails—but treated me like cheap labor.

I worked nonstop without breaks, food, or water, and got bossed around by Brandon and his bride, Maya. When I finally asked for a break, they told me photographers don’t eat at weddings and that $250 was generous for “not a real photographer” like me. That was the last straw.

In front of everyone, I deleted every photo I’d taken, handed Brandon the empty memory card, and walked out. Guests messaged me later, praising my courage. Maya cried and called me a traitor, but my dad was proud—he said family is about respect, not blood.

I stood up for myself and refused to be treated like garbage, even by family.