When my sister-in-law invited my kids to spend a week at her luxury home—complete with a pool, games, and treats—I thought it was a dream. I packed their bags, gave them spending money, and dropped them off, believing they were in for the time of their lives. But after four days of silence and one terrifying message from my daughter, I rushed over—only to find them scrubbing, hauling trash, and being treated like servants.

My daughter was dragging a garbage bag across the yard. My son was scrubbing pool tiles while Mikayla, their cousin, lounged nearby sipping juice. A clipboard listed their daily chores—dishes, laundry, cleaning toilets—in exchange for cartoon time and access to the pool. When I confronted Candace, she claimed it was a “fun system” to teach responsibility. But my daughter’s quiet voice broke me: “She said if we didn’t work, we’d sleep in the garage.”

I packed their things, retrieved their locked-up phones, and left without another word. The next day, I sent Candace an invoice for their labor: $600. I told her if she didn’t pay, I’d send photos of Mikayla relaxing while my kids cleaned up after her. She paid. I used the money to take my children to an amusement park for two days—cotton candy, roller coasters, no chores, no stress.

My sister-in-law tried to call, text, and message me on Facebook. I ignored it all. She called it “helping”—I call it exploitation. She took their summer joy and tried to dress it up as character-building. But she underestimated one thing: a mother always finds out—and never lets it slide.