Jane’s employers are planning a lavish vacation and have asked her to accompany them to care for their children. While they agreed to cover all expenditures, it is not until they return home that they demand Jane play her role and pay for her plane tickets.

But Jane will not give up that easy.”Jane, can you come into the living room?” Mrs. Smith cried out, her teaspoon clinking as she added sugar into the cup of tea Melanie,

the helper, had just handed her. I was cleaning up the playroom. “Now, please,” she said. Her tone was pleasant, yet something seemed odd. I strolled into the living room, attempting to keep my nerves under control. “Okay, Mrs. Smith. “What’s up?”

I responded, wiping the disinfectant from my jeans. She was seated on the couch, perfectly poised as usual. Not a single strand of hair is out of place. Mr. Smith sat next her, his phone in hand. “He gave me a tight smile.”

Jane, we need to discuss the vacation.” I nodded curiously. We’d been home for two days now. We’ve returned from our beach vacation, where we stayed in a beautiful resort. It was almost the break I needed, except that I also had to care for the Smiths’ three children and their friends, the Johnsons’ two sons. I was merely doing my work in a nicer setting. “Of course,” I replied. “It was a wonderful trip. Thank you again for the invitation.” “Yes, well,” Mrs Smith began. “We need to talk about the plane tickets. When will you be able to repay the $1,000?I blinked. I was convinced that I had misheard her. “Sorry, $1,000? For the tickets? What?” “Yes, for the tickets, Jane,” she said slowly, like if I were foolish. “We spent a lot on them, and we thought you’d be grateful enough to pay us back.” My heart raced. I didn’t have that much money to spare. I was their full-time nanny, with a mother to look after at home. ” But you told me everything was fine. You told Jane, ‘Don’t worry about it. “We have it all covered.” Mrs. Smith’s expression darkened. Mr. Smith looked at me.”That was before the Johnsons declined to sign a commercial agreement with Craig. That was the sole aim of the celebration. Mr. Smith and I had to woo them. So there is no need to appear generous now, Jane. You have precisely one week to refund the money or it will be deducted from your paycheck. I was stunned. The room felt like it was spinning. “But…I can’t afford that, Mrs. Smith,” I acknowledged. “The majority of my money is used to pay for my mother’s medication and rent at home. I cannot take that away from her. And you didn’t say anything about paying you back!” “It’s not our problem, Jane. “One week,” Mr. Smith repeated, reaching for a croissant from the tea tray left for Mrs. Smith. With a wave of his hand, he ended the conversation. That night, I sat in my small room, a few steps from the Smiths’ residence. I was fuming. How might they accomplish this? I needed a strategy quickly.Then it dawned on me: the Smiths were profoundly concerned about their social standing and reputation. “Of course, that’s all they care about,” I remarked to myself as I washed my teeth before bed. “But I can use that to my advantage.” The next day, after dropping the kids off at school, I set up a phony email account.

I wrote a courteous but lengthy response regarding my experience, taking care to be clear without naming any names. However, there were enough clear indicators pointing to the Smiths, from their automobiles to their children to the gold facial treatments that Mrs. Smith brag about. I then forwarded it to key members in their social circle, including other influential families with whom the Smiths wished to collaborate.”I just don’t understand what they want from us,” I overheard Mrs. Smith saying on the phone later that day. “Eva asked me if everything is true, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.” The gossip began to spread a few days later. The Smiths’ dirty little secret about how they handled “their staff” was revealed, and, unsurprisingly, their reputation suffered. Mrs. Smith hired a masseur to relax her muscles. “Just let them into the spa when they arrive, Jane,” she told them. “I need all the help I can get.” Later that day, when I went to pick up the kids from school, the other nannies were milling around, waiting for the bell to sound.”Did you read the email about the Smiths?” one of the nannies asked. “Jane, are they really like that?” I nodded. “They’re good parents, but horrible people,” I admitted, not wanting to reveal that I was the one who sent the email. “How long will you work for them?” another person asked me. “I could not live or work under those conditions. Rich people must realize that their respect is also earned.” I smiled. While we waited, the nannies went back and forth. And throughout their conversation, I learned something unusual about Mrs. Smith.It turned out that my boss had a habit of “borrowing” stuff from her pals and never returning them. “An entire Gucci handbag, Jane,” Mina added. “Mrs. Smith asked my ma’am if she could borrow it for a fundraising gala two months ago.” “That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed, astonished.

“I had no idea she was capable of something like that. But she doesn’t want me getting too close to her belongings anyway.” Several days later, Mrs. Smith had one of her ladies’ luncheons. She enjoyed hosting the monthly gathering, but this time it was only two weeks into the month. “I need this to go well, Jane,” she remarked as I chopped up fruit for the kids. “So, you must attend it. The kids will be in school. Everything will be catered for. Simply wander around and talk to the women. “Make us seem human.”I knew she was perplexing. She must have heard more than enough from the grapevine. During the event, I strolled around as requested. But I was not going to pass up this opportunity. And I didn’t have anything to lose. The Smiths were probably going to dismiss me at the end of the week because I couldn’t make the $1000. “We’ll deal with it, darling,” my mother coughed into the phone as I told her the truth. At the luncheon, I wandered around casually telling the ladies how much I enjoyed Mrs. Smith’s collection and making sure to speak with Eva, Mina’s boss. “Mrs. Smith has a stunning handbag similar to yours,” I told her. “Gucci. Did she lend you this? She always tells me that she lends out her belongings because she has so much.Eva regarded me over the top of her champagne glass. “Is that so, Jane?” she inquired, her gaze narrowing. Whispers started to circulate. Mrs. Smith’s reputation for borrowing without returning had become a hot subject by the end of the luncheon. The next morning, her pals started asking for their belongings back. Mrs. Smith felt mortified. Mr. Smith summoned me to the table the following night for supper and invited me to join them. “Thank you, but I usually wait for Ivy and Melanie to eat,” I respectfully explained, referring to the chef and her assistant. “No, sit with us,” he demanded. I complied. Despite his tone, I hoped he would tell me that the money could be disregarded. And that everything would return to normal. “It has come to my attention that an anonymous email has gone out,” he continued, slicing into his steak. “A disgusting email,” Mrs. Smith said, taking a long gulp of her wine. “Did you have anything to do with it?” he said, his eyes trying to elicit a confession from me. I shook my head and looked down at my plate. “Then that settles it,” he responded knowingly. “You are dismissed. “You can pack up and leave tomorrow.” I did as I was told and returned home. A week later, Mrs. Johnson called. “Jane, can you come over for tea?” she requested kindly. “Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” I responded, intrigued by the tone of the invitation. As we sat in her lavish living room, she gazed at me with genuine worry. “I have heard about what the Smiths did to you. It is disgraceful. I nodded, trying to maintain my composure. “Well,” she added. “We’ve decided to cut relations with the Smiths completely. And we would like to offer you a job. Higher wages and improved working conditions. “We could use someone like you for our children.” I was stunned. “Of course!” I said. I needed the job terribly. “You’ve earned it,” she said, smiling. “The boys enjoyed having you watch them over the holidays. “And you got Jonathan to eat his peas!” I’m not sure how the Smiths reacted to my work for the Johnsons, but I hoped they felt betrayed. What would you have done?