I’m Nancy, and I’m 32 years old. Three years ago, I bought my own house with the money I earned as a programmer. Not bad for a girl who started coding in her dorm room, right?
I work for a company that makes home security products— cameras, smart home systems, all that tech. The cool part is, I developed most of the software myself. My boss loves me because I can work from home and still get everything done. The pay is amazing, so I could afford this beautiful house with four bedrooms.
I set up my office in one of the spare rooms. It’s perfect— big windows, good lighting, and quiet. I only go to the main office maybe once a week for meetings. The rest of the time, I’m here in my pajamas, writing code and making bank.
Right after I bought the house, I installed our company’s security system everywhere— cameras in every room, around the yard, motion sensors— the works. I even wrote special programs for my laptop and phone so I can watch my house from anywhere. Pretty neat, right?
I never told my family about the monitoring stuff, though. They’d think I was paranoid or something. My life was perfect. I had my routine down: wake up at 8:00, coffee, work until 6:00, maybe order takeout, watch Netflix, sleep. Weekends were for cleaning, grocery shopping, and binge-watching shows. No drama, no stress— just me and my code.
Then my older sister Sarah called me. She’s 35 and has two kids: Jake, who’s nine, and Tommy, who’s seven. Her husband ran off with some 22-year-old waitress about two years ago, and he doesn’t pay child support either, so Sarah’s been struggling. I’ve been helping her pay rent on her apartment because, well, she’s my sister, and those kids need a roof over their heads.
“Nancy, I need to talk to you about something,” Sarah said on the phone. Her voice sounded weird, like she was planning something.
“Would it be okay if we came to visit this Saturday? The boys miss their aunt.”
I smiled. I did miss my nephews. They were good kids, even if they could be a handful sometimes.
“Sure, that sounds great. I’ll make lunch for everyone.”
Saturday came, and I was excited. I cleaned the house, bought groceries, even got some of those fruit snacks the boys love. I was making sandwiches when I heard Sarah’s car pull into my driveway. I walked outside to greet them, but something felt off. Sarah was pulling suitcases out of her trunk— not just overnight bags, but big suitcases, like moving-sized suitcases.
“Hey guys!” I called out, trying to keep my voice cheerful.
Jake and Tommy ran over and hugged me.
“Aunt Nancy, look! We brought all our stuff!” Tommy said, pointing at the pile of luggage.
My stomach dropped.
“All your stuff?” I asked, trying to hide the confusion.
Sarah was already carrying bags toward my front door.
“Boys, help me with these boxes.”
I followed them inside, my heart racing. Sarah was directing the kids to put boxes in the living room like she owned the place.
“Sarah, what’s going on? This looks like more than a weekend visit.”
She straightened up and looked at me with this determined expression I remembered from when we were kids— when she wanted something.
“I moved out of the apartment. We’re going to live here with you. You have three empty bedrooms. The boys need stability, and I need help. You work from home anyway, so you can watch them when I’m busy.”
“No, absolutely not,” I said. “I’ll help you find a new apartment, but you can’t just move in here without permission.”
Sarah’s face got that stubborn look. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
“Hi, Mom, it’s Sarah. Yeah, we’re here at Nancy’s, just like we discussed. Yes, she’s being difficult. Here, talk to her.”
She shoved the phone at me. I had no choice but to take it.
“Nancy, honey, what’s wrong?” Mom’s voice was all sweet and concerned.
“Mom, did you know Sarah was planning to move into my house?”
“Of course, dear. We talked about it last week. Sarah needs help, and you have all that room. You should be happy to help your sister and those poor children.”
“But, Mom, I never agreed to this. I need my space to work, and I can’t just take care of two kids.”
“Nancy Elizabeth, I’m very disappointed in you. Your sister is going through a hard time, and family helps family. Those children need stability, and you’re being selfish.”
The guilt hit me like a truck. I looked at Jake and Tommy, who were watching me with big eyes, and felt terrible. I handed the phone back to Sarah, feeling defeated.
“See? It’s all settled,” Sarah said, smiling. “Don’t worry, Nancy. We’ll stay a few months, just until I find a better job and can afford a nicer place. Maybe even get a babysitter for the boys.”
I doubted that, but what could I do? The kids were already here with all their stuff, and my parents were clearly on Sarah’s side.
“Fine,” I said, “but we need to set some ground rules.”
“Absolutely! We’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”
Looking back now, I should have known that promise wouldn’t last.
The first few weeks weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. Sarah actually kept her word about staying out of my way. She had this part-time job at some retail store, so she’d leave in the morning, pick up the boys from school around 3, and come home to make dinner. I could hear them downstairs while I worked in my office, but they were pretty quiet. Jake and Tommy seemed to understand that Aunt Nancy needed her space to work. They’d knock on my office door sometimes to show me their homework or ask for help with math problems, which was actually kind of sweet. I forgot how smart kids could be when they weren’t being complete monsters.
Sarah was actually being a decent house guest. She did her own laundry, kept the boys’ stuff organized in their shared bedroom, and even helped with groceries sometimes. When my parents came over for Sunday dinner, they were all smiles and compliments.
“Nancy, you’re such a good sister,” Dad said, patting my shoulder. “Look how well everyone’s getting along.”
“The boys seem happy here,” Mom added, watching Jake and Tommy play video games in the living room. “They needed this stability.”
Sarah beamed at me from across the dinner table. “Nancy’s been amazing. I don’t know what we would’ve done without her.”
I felt good about it. Honestly, maybe this temporary arrangement would work out fine. Sarah seemed motivated to find a better job, the boys were doing well in school, and I was still able to work without too many interruptions. But then, the two-month mark hit, and everything started changing.
It started small. Sarah began staying later at work, or at least that’s what she told me.
“Nancy, I’m going to be working more hours,” she announced one Tuesday morning. “The manager said there might be a promotion available if I show I’m committed.”
“That’s great,” I said, not looking up from my laptop. “More money, right?”
“Exactly. But I won’t be able to pick up the boys from school anymore. Would you mind getting them, just until I can figure something else out?”
I paused my typing.
“Sarah, I have meetings in the afternoons sometimes. I can’t just drop everything to do school pickup.”
“Please, it’s just temporary. Once I get this promotion, I’ll be able to afford a babysitter.”
So, I started doing school pickup. It wasn’t terrible at first. I’d finish my work around 2:30, drive to the elementary school, wait in the ridiculous parent pickup line for 20 minutes, then bring the boys home. They’d do homework at the kitchen table while I tried to squeeze in a few more hours of work. But then, dinner became my responsibility too.
Sarah started coming home later and later, always with some excuse about inventory or training or helping other employees. She’d walk in around 8 or 9 p.m., eat whatever I’d cooked for the boys, and go straight to her room. Weekends got worse. Sarah would disappear Saturday morning with some vague excuse about errands or meeting friends and wouldn’t come back until Sunday evening. That left me with two energetic kids who wanted to go places and do things.
I found myself spending my weekends being a full-time aunt instead of relaxing and catching up on work. I got tired of all this. One weekday evening, I decided to wait for Sarah to talk to her. I needed to know what was really going on with all these late nights and weekend disappearances.
I sat in the living room waiting. 9:00 came and went. Then 10. Then 11. I was getting really pissed off, but I stayed put. The boys had been asleep for hours, and I just kept waiting. Finally, around midnight, I heard Sarah’s car in the driveway. She stumbled through the front door, and I knew immediately what was going on— she was drunk. Not just tipsy, actually drunk, and she reeked of men’s cologne.
“Sarah, we need to talk.”
She jumped, not expecting to see me sitting there in the dark living room.
“Nancy, what are you doing up?”
“Waiting for you. I want to know what’s really going on. Are you actually working all these extra hours, or are you just out having fun with men?”
Her face changed. The fake sweetness disappeared, and she got this nasty look.
“I’m arranging my personal life, okay? I’m allowed to date.”
“But you’re lying to me about work, and you’re leaving me to take care of your kids while you go out and get drunk.”
“Whatever, Nancy. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
She stumbled upstairs, leaving me sitting there, furious.
After that confrontation, things got even worse. Sarah started coming home very late at night, almost always drunk. She didn’t take care of her children at all and hardly saw them. I was doing everything— school pickup, homework help, dinner, bedtime stories, weekend activities.
The breaking point came when Jake’s teacher called about a parent-teacher conference.
“Mrs. Jyn wants to meet about Jake’s math grades,” I told Sarah one morning.
“Can’t you go?” she asked.
“I’m not his parent. You need to go to these things.”
“Nancy, please. You’re better at the school stuff anyway. You help him with homework more than I do.”
So, I went to the parent-teacher conference. I sat there pretending to be Jake’s guardian while Mrs. Chin talked about his progress and behavior. It was humiliating.
That night, I called my mother.
“Mom, Sarah isn’t taking care of her kids. I’m doing everything while she goes out drinking and dating. This isn’t what we agreed to.”
“Nancy, your sister is just trying to arrange her personal life. She’s been through a difficult divorce. You shouldn’t interfere with her healing process.”
“Healing process, Mom? She’s out getting drunk every night while I raise her children.”
“You’re exaggerating, dear. Sarah deserves some happiness. Just be patient with her.”
I hung up feeling completely alone. Even my own mother was taking Sarah’s side, making excuses for her terrible behavior.
The boys were starting to notice too. Tommy asked me one morning why his mom was never home anymore, and I didn’t know what to tell him. Jake was getting quieter, more withdrawn. They needed their mother, but she was too busy arranging her personal life to care about them.
Things kept getting worse. Sarah was barely home anymore, and when she was, she acted like she owned the place. She’d eat the food I bought, leave her dishes in the sink, and expect me to clean up after her. The boys were basically living like they had no mother at all.
The worst part was watching Jake and Tommy try to get her attention when she was home. They’d run up to her with drawings from school or want to tell her about their day, and she’d just brush them off. I could see the hurt in their eyes. These kids needed their mother, and she was too busy chasing men to care.
One afternoon, I was working in my office when I heard this terrible noise downstairs. It sounded like something heavy falling and breaking, followed by a scream. My heart jumped into my throat, and I ran downstairs as fast as I could. Tommy was standing in the living room next to my antique vase, which was now in pieces all over the floor. He was crying and holding his leg, and I could see blood seeping through his jeans.
“What happened?” I asked, kneeling down next to him.
“We were playing tag,” Jake said, his face pale. “Tommy was running, and he knocked into the table. The vase fell on his leg.”
I pulled up Tommy’s pant leg and saw a deep gash on his shin. It was bleeding pretty badly and definitely needed stitches.
“Okay, boys, we need to get Tommy to the hospital right now,” I said, trying to stay calm. I grabbed some clean towels and wrapped Tommy’s leg, then helped him to my car. Jake climbed in the back seat, looking scared. The emergency room was a nightmare. Tommy was crying, Jake was quiet and worried, and I was trying to fill out forms while not being his actual guardian.
The nurses kept asking where his mother was. “She’s at work,” I lied. “I’m his aunt.”
After what felt like forever, they took Tommy back to get stitches. The doctor said he’d be fine, but it was a pretty deep cut. They gave him some pain medication and bandaged him up.
We got home around 6:00 p.m. I was exhausted, and both boys were quiet and shaken up. I made them grilled cheese sandwiches and put on a movie to help them relax. Sarah came home earlier than usual that night, around 8:00 p.m. She walked in and immediately saw Tommy’s bandaged leg.
“What the hell happened to him?” she demanded.
I explained about the accident, how I’d taken both boys to the hospital, how Tommy needed stitches.
Instead of thanking me or comforting her son, Sarah exploded.
“You weren’t watching them! This is your fault, Nancy! You let my child get hurt because you weren’t paying attention!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Sarah, I was working in my office. The boys were playing downstairs. It was an accident.”
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if you’d been supervising them properly!”
“Are you kidding me right now? You’re never here! I’ve been taking care of your kids for months while you go out and get drunk every night! I work hard to support my children, you don’t work! You go on dates, you come home wreaking of booze and cologne, and you expect me to raise your kids?”
The boys were watching us fight, and I felt terrible, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“You’re a terrible mother, Sarah. You don’t care about Jake and Tommy at all. You just want free babysitting so you can go sleep around.”
That’s when she slapped me hard across the face.
I stood there, stunned, with my cheek burning.
“Get out,” I said quietly. “Get out of my house right now. I’m done with this.”
“You can’t kick us out! We have nowhere to go!”
“That’s not my problem anymore. You have until tomorrow to find somewhere else to live, or I’ll call the police.”
Sarah laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound.
“You won’t call the police. Think about what that would do to the boys.”
She was right, and we both knew it. I looked at Jake and Tommy, who were huddled together on the couch, looking terrified.
“Fine,” I said, “but you’re leaving tomorrow. I mean it, Sarah.”
She just smirked and went upstairs.
The next morning was Saturday. I was having coffee when Sarah came downstairs, fully dressed and carrying some papers.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Out. I’ll be back later.”
She left without saying goodbye to the boys, who were still asleep. I spent the morning cleaning up the broken vase and playing with Jake and Tommy, trying to act normal.
Sarah came back around noon and had this weird triumphant look on her face.
“Nancy, we need to talk,” she said, waving the papers at me.
“What are those?”
“Medical records from Tommy’s hospital visit yesterday. I’m going to file a police report against you for child abuse.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
“Sarah, are you insane? I’m going to tell them that you threw that vase at Tommy’s leg on purpose because you don’t want us living here.”
“No one will believe that. It was clearly an accident.”
Sarah’s smile got wider and nastier.
“I’ve already talked to the boys about what they’re going to tell the police. They’ll say whatever I tell them to say.”
I looked at Jake and Tommy, who were standing in the doorway, listening. They looked confused and scared.
Sarah turned back to me.
“I’ll teach them what to say. Kids are easy to manipulate when they’re scared.”
“You’re sick, Sarah. You’d lie to the police and traumatize your own children just to get what you want?”
“I’ll drop the whole thing if you let us stay here and give me \$50,000.”
I stared at her, speechless. My own sister was blackmailing me.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m giving you \$50,000.”
“Then I guess I’ll be making that police report.”
My hands were shaking with rage, but I kept my voice calm.
“Fine, but first I’m calling Mom and Dad. I want them to hear what you’re planning to do.”
Sarah shrugged.
“Go ahead. They’ll take my side, like they always do.”
I called my parents and asked them to come over for dinner to discuss Sarah’s future living arrangements. I didn’t tell them about the blackmail over the phone.
While we waited for them to arrive, I went to my office and logged into my security system’s cloud storage. I found the video of Tommy’s accident from yesterday. The camera in the living room had caught the whole thing. The boys running around, Tommy bumping into the table, the vase falling and cutting his leg. It was clearly an accident.
I also found several videos of Sarah coming home drunk late at night, stumbling around, smelling like she’d been out with men
. I copied everything onto a USB drive and waited for my parents to show up.
Sarah had no idea what was coming for her.
My parents arrived around 5:00 p.m., and they were clearly annoyed about having to come over.
“Nancy, what’s this all about?” Dad asked as he walked through the door. “We had plans tonight.”
“We need to discuss Sarah’s living situation,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
Mom immediately got defensive.
“If you’re trying to kick your sister out, Nancy, I’m very disappointed in you.”
“Just sit down, please. Both of you.”
We gathered in the living room. Sarah was sitting on the couch with this smug look on her face, like she knew she’d already won. The boys were upstairs in their room.
“Mom, Dad, Sarah’s been blackmailing me,” I started.
Mom looked shocked.
“Nancy, that’s a terrible thing to say about your sister.”
“She threatened to file a false police report against me for child abuse unless I give her \$50,000 and let her live here permanently.”
Sarah jumped up.
“Nancy’s lying! She hurt Tommy yesterday, and now she’s trying to cover it up by making me look bad.”
“She slapped me across the face last night,” I continued, “and she’s been coming home drunk almost every night while I take care of her children.”
Dad shook his head.
“Nancy, you’re being dramatic. Sarah just needs time to get back on her feet.”
“She’s been using me as free child care while she goes out drinking and dating! I’ve been doing everything— school pickup, homework, cooking, cleaning! She doesn’t take care of her own kids!”
“Your sister is trying to rebuild her life after a difficult divorce,” Mom said.
“You should be more understanding.”
Sarah was nodding along.
“Nancy doesn’t understand what I’ve been through, and now she’s making up stories because she wants us gone.”
“I’m not making anything up,” I said, standing up and walking to my laptop. “And I can prove it.”
I plugged in the USB drive and pulled up the video from yesterday’s accident.
“This is security footage from my living room yesterday when Tommy got hurt.”
My parents and Sarah watched the screen as the video played. You could clearly see the boys playing tag, Tommy running and bumping into the table, and the vase falling and cutting his leg. It was obviously an accident.
Sarah’s face went white.
“Nancy, where did you get this?”
“I have security cameras throughout the house. I’ve had them since I moved in 3 years ago.”
“You’ve been spying on us?”
“It’s my house, Sarah. And it’s a good thing I have cameras, because they caught your lie.”
I clicked to the next video. It showed Sarah stumbling through the front door at 1:00 a.m., clearly drunk, bumping into the wall.
“This is from last Tuesday night. You told me you were working late.”
Another video. Sarah coming home at midnight on Friday, wreaking of cologne and barely able to walk straight.
“And this is Friday. You said you were at a work training.”
My parents were staring at the screen in shock. Dad’s mouth was hanging open, and Mom looked like she’d been slapped.
“Sara,” Mom said quietly, “is this true? Have you been lying about work?”
Sarah was panicking now.
“It’s not what it looks like. I do work, and sometimes I go out afterward to relax.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that?” I asked. “Nothing wrong with leaving your children with me every night while you get drunk?”
“That’s not figuring things out,” I said. “That’s being selfish.”
“Nancy, what do you want us to do?” Dad asked, looking exhausted.
“I want Sarah and the boys out of my house tonight. And if she tries to file any false reports against me, I’ll take these videos to the police and file for custody of Jake and Tommy.”
Sarah gasped.
“You can’t take my children away from me!”
“Watch me. I have hours of footage showing you coming home drunk while your kids are asleep. I have evidence that you threatened to file false police reports. Any judge would see that these boys need a stable home.”
“Nancy, you can’t be serious,” Mom said.
“I am completely serious. Sarah is an unfit mother, and I won’t let her use me anymore.”
Sarah started crying, but it felt fake.
“Please, Nancy, I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“Too late. You had months to do better. Instead, you got worse.”
“Nancy, please,” Dad said. “These are your nephews. Think about what’s best for them.”
“I am thinking about what’s best for them. They need a mother who actually cares about them, not someone who sees them as an inconvenience.”
I looked at Sarah, who was still crying her fake tears.
“You have two hours to pack your stuff and get out. If you’re not gone by 8:00 p.m., I’m calling the police and showing them these videos.”
Mom and Dad looked at each other, then at Sarah.
“Sarah, maybe you should come stay with us for a while,” Mom said quietly, “until you can figure things out properly.”
“I don’t want to live with you!” Sarah snapped. “Your house is too small!”
“Well, you can’t stay here,” Dad said firmly. “Nancy’s right. This has gone too far.”
Sarah glared at all of us, but she knew she was beaten. She stomped upstairs to pack.
My parents left without saying much. They were ashamed and embarrassed, and I felt bad for them, but not bad enough to change my mind.
Sarah and the boys were gone by 7:30 p.m. Jake and Tommy hugged me goodbye, and I felt terrible watching them leave, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
A few months later, I heard through my cousin that Sarah was working full-time now because Mom and Dad wouldn’t let her go out drinking anymore. She had to actually take care of her kids for once.
The house felt quiet without the boys, but it was my quiet again. I could work without interruptions, eat what I wanted, and come and go as I pleased.
I felt a little guilty about Jake and Tommy sometimes, but I reminded myself that it wasn’t my job to raise them. That was Sarah’s responsibility, and maybe now she’d finally step up and be the mother they deserved.