My Housekeeper Moved Her Family In

I paid $2,500 for a live-in housekeeper to look after my cat and house while I was away for eighteen days.

The night I returned, I stood at my front door, dragging two suitcases. I typed the password three times.

The screen flashed red: *Incorrect password.*

I thought my brain was fried from a dozen hours on the plane. I glanced down at my phone memo.

No, it was right.

0529.

That was the temporary password Id set for Maggie, the housekeeper, before I left.

I typed it again.

Still incorrect.

Suddenly, a mans voice came from inside: "Who is it? Annoying! Stop pressing the button, my kid's sleeping."

I froze.

This was clearly my home.

Standing at my own front door, I was being told off by a stranger inside.

I rang the doorbell.

After about ten seconds, the door opened a crack.

A man in his thirties peered out, his hair messy, wearing the grey slippers I kept by the door.

He looked me up and down. "Who are you looking for?"

I stared at the slippers on his feet.

"I think that's my question."

The man frowned. "Who are *you*?"

"I'm the owner of this apartment."

His expression stiffened. He turned and yelled into the house, "Mom! The landlord's back!"

Landlord?

My blood boiled.

The door swung fully open.

I saw a little boy sitting in the living room, watching cartoons on my tablet.

Takeout boxes were scattered on the table, and some children's clothes were tossed on the sofa.

The balcony door was half-open, and a mix of smoke and cooking smells wafted out.

On my white carpet, there was a dark brown food stain.

In the kitchen, a woman with permed hair emerged, holding a pot. She paused when she saw me.

The enamel pot in her hand was one Id paid over $450 for.

Before I could speak, the master bedroom door opened.

Maggie walked out.

She was wearing my silk robe.

I'd washed that robe and stored it deep inside my closet before leaving.

"Ms. Vance, what are you doing back today?"

Her tone was so natural, as if she were asking why I was home early from work.

I looked at her.

"It's my own home, can't I come back?"

Maggie's face looked a little awkward, but she quickly smiled. "That's not what I meant. Didn't you say you'd be back on the second?"

"I changed my flight, came back two days early."

I pointed at the people in the living room. "Who are they?"

Before Maggie could speak, the man said, "I'm her son."

The woman from the kitchen chimed in, "I'm her daughter-in-law."

The little boy on the sofa held up the tablet. "Grandma, I want yogurt!"

I let out a laugh.

"So I paid $2,500 for a housekeeper, went on vacation, and came back to find your whole family living in my house?"

Maggie's face darkened. "Ms. Vance, that's a bit much. An old woman like me, living in a big house like this, gets scared. So I had my family come keep me company. What's wrong with that?"

"Keep you company?"

I stepped further inside.

Carter blocked the doorway. "Hey, hold on, don't come in. The kid just fell asleep."

I stared at him. "Move."

He didn't budge.

Maggie quickly intervened, "Carter, don't argue with Eleanor. Ms. Vance, everyone's had a long day. Let's talk tomorrow."

"I'll talk now."

I put my suitcases by the door, pulled out my phone, and opened a photo of the contract.

"My contract with the domestic services agency is for eighteen days of live-in service, costing $2,500. The contract clearly states that the service provider is you, Maggie, alone. You're to stay in the housekeeper's room, no outsiders are allowed to stay overnight, the master bedroom is off-limits, and you are not to touch the owner's personal belongings."

I looked up at the robe she was wearing.

"Now, explain yourself."

Maggie's face fell.

She tugged the robe's tie tighter. "My clothes were still wet from washing. What's wrong with borrowing one of yours? It's not like I ruined it."

Mia, her daughter-in-law, put the pot on the stove. "Ms. Vance, right? Your house is just sitting empty anyway. What's the harm in us staying for a few days? Is it going to collapse?"

I looked at her.

"You're using my kitchen, sleeping in my room, wearing my clothes, and now you're asking me, 'a few days'?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Wealthy people are always so particular."

Carter leaned against the shoe rack, his tone sharp. "My mom's been here, working her butt off taking care of your house and cat. And you come back and give us a hard time? What's the deal?"

That's when I remembered my cat.

"Where's my cat?"

Maggie's eyes darted away. "On the balcony."

I pushed past Carter and walked to the balcony.

He reached out to stop me. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing my cat."

In the corner of the balcony, my cat was curled up in its bed, its fur matted.

The water bowl was empty.

The litter box was overflowing.

I crouched down and called to it. It looked up at me, its voice hoarse, barely a meow.

I couldn't hold back my fury any longer!

"Maggie."

I turned to her.

"Those photos you sent me every day, where did they come from?"

She stammered. "I took them."

"The water bowl's empty, the litter box is like this, and you tell me you've been taking care of it every day?"

Maggie frowned. "Cats are sensitive animals; I'm not a vet!"

I stood up.

"All of you, get out of my house. Now."

Carter scoffed.

"Where are we supposed to go at this hour? Besides, my mom's contract isn't even over yet."

I looked at him. "The contract is for her to work, not for me to hand my house over to your family."

Maggie suddenly sat on the sofa, slapping her thigh. "Oh, these young women today, they turn on you in an instant! Before she left, it was all sweet talk, 'just leave the house to me, take whatever you need.' Now she's back and kicking us out."

She pulled out her phone. "I have a voice message!"

I watched her coldly.

She played the voice message.

It was from the day I left.

"Maggie, I really appreciate you taking care of things around the house for this period. Cat food is in the cabinet, you can eat the groceries in the fridge, and let me know if you need anything."

Maggie held up the phone. "Listen, she herself said to leave the house to me."

I looked at her face.

In that instant, I knew.

This person wasn't confused.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

I called Mr. Anderson at the agency.

When he answered, I only said one thing: "The housekeeper you sent brought her whole family to live in my house."

Mr. Anderson was silent for two seconds.

"Ms. Vance, please don't get agitated. I'll be right there."

I also called property management.

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Brown from property management arrived with two security guards.

Ten minutes after that, Mr. Anderson arrived.

As soon as he walked in, he saw the group of people in the living room and clearly paused.

But he quickly put on a smile.

"Ms. Vance, there must be some misunderstanding here."

I pointed at the slippers on Carter's feet. "A misunderstanding so deep he's wearing my slippers?"

Then I pointed to the master bedroom. "A misunderstanding so deep they're sleeping in my bed?"

Then I pointed to the balcony. "A misunderstanding so deep my cat's in this condition?"

Mr. Anderson's face stiffened a bit.

Maggie immediately stood up. "Mr. Anderson, you have to speak fairly for me. I was scared living here alone, so I asked my family to come see me. What's the problem?"

Mr. Anderson nodded. "Maggie is quite elderly, and working alone in an unfamiliar environment can be stressful."

I looked at him.

"Your contract says psychological stress allows bringing the whole family?"

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. "A contract is a contract, but we need a little compassion in real-world situations, don't we?"

"Compassion?"

I flipped to the sixth clause of the contract and shoved the screen in front of his eyes.

"The service provider is prohibited from bringing any unauthorized persons into the owner's residence. Upon a single violation, the owner reserves the right to immediately terminate the contract and demand compensation for damages from the service provider."

Mr. Anderson glanced at it, then smiled. "Ms. Vance, don't be so rigid about this. The most important thing now is to resolve the issue."

I asked, "How do we resolve it?"

He said, "It's really too late tonight. Let Maggie's family stay one night, and I'll arrange for them to move out tomorrow."

I laughed, exasperated.

"Now I'm back in my own home, and I have to give up a night for them?"

Carter chimed in from the side, "If you want to stay, just stay. There are plenty of rooms."

I looked at him. "Where will you sleep?"

"The master bedroom."

"Then where will *I* sleep?"

Carter shrugged. "The guest room works too."

I looked at Mr. Anderson. "Did you hear that?"

Mr. Anderson quickly said, "Carter, say less."

Maggie also said, "Ms. Vance, what difference does it make where you sleep alone? Our family has a child; we can't sleep on the floor."

I asked her, "Did you ask me when you were living in my master bedroom?"

She was stubborn. "I kept it spotless for you."

I walked to the master bedroom doorway.

Their bedding was on the bed, and Maggie's reading glasses were next to the pillow.

There was a half-empty coffee mug on the nightstand, with a dried coffee ring.

My closet door was open.

A row of my clothes was rummaged through.

My pajamas, robe, and scarves had all been moved.

On the vanity, my face cream was all dug out, and two of my lipsticks were missing.

I turned to Mia.

Her eyes flickered. "Why are you looking at me?"

"Who used my cosmetics?"

Mia crossed her arms. "You have so many things; you suspect people just because one or two are missing? Do you have proof?"

Just then, the little boy ran over, holding my tablet. "Mommy, this is out of battery!"

I reached out and took the tablet back.

There was a new crack on the edge of the screen.

I took a deep breath.

A voice in my head kept reminding me: *Don't get physical, don't get yourself into trouble.*

I turned to Mr. Brown from property management. "Property management is now witnessing my demand for these unauthorized persons to leave immediately."

Mr. Brown looked at Maggie, then at me, his expression troubled.

"Ms. Vance, in principle, this is your property, and outsiders certainly shouldn't be staying. But you invited the housekeeper in yourself, and as for how her family entered, it's difficult for us at property management to enforce removal."

"If you can't enforce it, I'll call the police."

At that, Carter immediately raised his voice. "Call the police then! My mom's working for you, who are you trying to scare?"

Maggie began to cry. "I've been slaving away for her here, and in less than twenty days, the first thing she does when she comes back is call the police to kick me out. Mr. Anderson, look at this, who would dare take this job after this?"

I said, "I hired you for eighteen days; today is the sixteenth. You charge over a hundred dollars a day. Did you take care of the cat? Did you clean? You let your whole family move in, and now you're turning it around on me?"

Mr. Anderson quickly intervened. "Ms. Vance, don't be so absolute. The lady didn't mean any harm, she's just having a bit of a tough time right now."

"What kind of tough time?"

Carter sneered. "Our house is being renovated, so we have nowhere to stay temporarily. Your place is empty, and my mom works here. What's wrong with staying for a few days?"

I looked at him.

"So you intended to move in from the start."

Carter realized he'd let something slip and shut his mouth.

Mia, however, wasn't afraid. "We didn't stay for free; my mom's working for you."

I picked up my phone and dialed 911.

Mr. Anderson's face finally changed.

"Ms. Vance, don't involve the police; there's no need."

I looked at him. "Now there is."

Two police officers arrived, one in his forties and a younger one.

I showed them the contract, payment records, and SnapChat messages.

I also explained the situation in the house.

The older officer, Officer Miller, listened, then looked at Maggie.

"Are you the domestic services worker?"

Maggie wiped her tears. "Yes, I'm here to work. Before she left, she told me to leave the house to me, so I thought I'd let my son come stay for a couple of days. I really didn't mean anything else."

Officer Miller asked, "How many days has your family been staying?"

Maggie didn't speak.

Carter said, "Not many days."

I interjected, "The smart lock records show they arrived the evening of the second day. Today is the sixteenth day."

Carter glared at me. "You even check that?"

I said, "It's my own home's lock record, why wouldn't I check?"

Officer Miller looked at Carter. "The owner doesn't agree, so you need to leave."

Carter said, "It's too late now."

Officer Miller checked his watch. "It's 9:40 PM, that's not late."

Mia, holding her child, began to cry. "The child has kindergarten tomorrow; where are you going to make us go?"

I bit my tongue, but couldn't help saying, "Is the kindergarten operating *from* my master bedroom?"

Mia's face flushed red. "How can you be so mean-spirited?"

Maggie suddenly clutched her chest. "I'm dizzy."

Mr. Anderson quickly supported her. "Ma'am, ma'am, are you okay?"

Maggie slumped onto the sofa, her voice weak. "I have high blood pressure; I can't handle stress."

Watching her act, I felt a chill in my heart.

This wasn't her first performance.

She was too practiced.

Officer Miller frowned. "If you're not feeling well, call 911."

Maggie immediately waved her hand. "No, no, I'll be fine after resting a bit."

Mr. Anderson said to me, "Ms. Vance, given the lady's condition, moving out tonight is definitely unrealistic. Tomorrow morning, by 10 AM, I'll personally come supervise their departure."

I asked Officer Miller, "Can that be written down?"

Officer Miller nodded. "We can write up an incident report. The family must vacate by 10 AM tomorrow, the housekeeping service will be terminated, and any outstanding fees or damages can be handled through your contract or through legal action."

Carter muttered under his breath, "Such a hassle."

Officer Miller looked at him. "Care to repeat that?"

Carter fell silent.

After the incident report was written, Maggie reluctantly gave me a new password.

I stood at the door and typed it in.

The door opened.

I asked, "Why did you change the password?"

Maggie's eyes darted away. "The kid was messing with it and locked us out, so my daughter-in-law helped set a new one."

I looked at Mia.

She was looking down at her phone, pretending not to hear.

I went inside and put the cat into its carrier first.

Maggie grew anxious. "If you take the cat, how am I supposed to provide service?"

I turned back to her. "You still remember 'service'?"

Her face went pale.

I then went to the study to get my documents and laptop.

There were new scratches on the study door handle.

I pulled open the drawer; my passport was still there, and so was my property deed.

The lock on the black storage cabinet hadn't been touched.

Inside were several lenses from the studio, two wristwatches, and a handbag.

These were equipment and samples from photography projects Jason and I worked on. They had invoices and serial numbers, and I usually kept them insured in my study.

I had specifically locked the cabinet before leaving the country.

I touched the lock, feeling a little relieved.

But the two SnapChat cameras in the living room were both unplugged.

I asked Maggie, "Who unplugged the cameras?"

She said, "The red light kept flashing; it was creepy."

"The contract states there's surveillance in the living room and study, which are common areas."

She retorted, righteous, "An old woman like me, being watched by you here, who could stand it?"

I didn't bother to argue further.

But I knew there was another camera, disguised as a smoke detector, on top of the study cabinet.

It had been installed after a pipe leak the year before, connected to an independent power source, and its angle only covered the study doorway and the storage cabinet.

It was also mentioned in the contract appendix.

They probably hadn't noticed.

I carried the cat carrier and dragged my suitcases out.

Maggie called out from behind me, "Ms. Vance, we'll definitely be gone by ten tomorrow. Don't worry."

I didn't look back.

I checked into a hotel near the apartment complex entrance.

At the vet clinic, the doctor took one look at my cat and said it was dehydrated and had mild gastroenteritis.

"Its drinking and bathroom habits haven't been normal lately, have they?"

I nodded.

The doctor asked, "Who was taking care of it?"

I said, "Someone I paid."

The doctor sighed. "We need to start an IV."

I sat in the hospital corridor, watching my cat curled up in its cage.

I paid $2,500 for peace of mind.

What I got instead was a house full of strangers.

The next day, at 9:50 AM, I arrived at my front door.

Mr. Brown from property management was also there.

Mr. Anderson wasn't.

I called him.

He answered after a long pause. "Ms. Vance, I have an urgent meeting right now. You talk to Maggie first; I'll be there soon."

I didn't waste words; I hung up.

At exactly 10 AM, I typed the new password Maggie had given me last night.

Incorrect.

I typed it again.

Still incorrect.

Mr. Brown frowned. "Changed again?"

I called Maggie.

No answer.

I called Carter.

He answered.

His voice was lazy. "What do you want?"

"Open the door."

"My mom's not feeling well; we can't move today."

"The police incident report last night stated you must vacate by 10 AM."

"Then go find the police."

I said, "Open the door."

Carter scoffed. "Ms. Vance, don't be so aggressive. We can move, but you need to pay my mom's fees."

"I've already paid the agency in full."

"That's between you and the company. My mom's been taking care of your house these past few days, and our family helped out too. Care fees, moving fees, lost wages it adds up to fifteen hundred."

I almost laughed out loud.

"You lived in my house, and now you want moving fees from me?"

Carter said, "You bought such a big house, what's a little more money?"

I glanced at Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown looked down at the ground, pretending not to hear.

I said into the phone, "I'm giving you ten minutes. If you don't open the door, I'll call the police again."

Carter's voice turned cold. "Calling the police won't help. A service dispute? The police aren't going to physically remove us!"

He hung up after that.

I stood at the door, my palms clammy.

Mr. Anderson then sent me a SnapChat message: "Ms. Vance, Maggie really isn't feeling well; please be understanding. They won't occupy the house; they'll move as soon as she feels better."

I replied: "If you don't move by 12 PM today, I'm pursuing legal action."

He replied after a long pause: "You'll only make things worse."

I stared at that sentence for a few seconds.

My mind suddenly felt very calm.

Worse? The locks have been changed, the password's been reset. How much worse can it get?

At noon, they hadn't moved.

At 3 PM, I went up again with property management.

I could hear the TV and a child laughing inside.

I rang the doorbell.

No one answered.

I knocked on the door.

Carter yelled from inside, "Stop knocking! The kid's taking his nap!"

I said, "Open the door."

The door opened a crack, with the security chain still on.

Carter showed half his face. "I told you, we can't move today."

I asked, "Did you touch any of my things?"

He scoffed. "Who cares about your junk?"

I said, "If anything is missing from the study cabinet, I will report it to the police."

His face changed slightly, then quickly returned to normal. "Who are you trying to scare?"

The door slammed shut.

I didn't leave.

I took the fire escape down one floor, then circled back to the emergency stairs.

The fire door on the twenty-third floor didn't muffle sound well.

They probably thought I had left, as the door wasn't tightly shut.

Fragments of their conversation drifted out.

Mia was saying, "I've listed those bags online. Someone's asking if they can see them in person."

Carter said, "Don't list the bags yet; they're too conspicuous. Those two watches in the study cabinet are valuable, easy to turn into cash."

Maggie lowered her voice. "She looked at that cabinet yesterday; don't mess with it."

Carter was impatient. "She's just a woman, what can she do? A couple of threats and she'll back down."

Mr. Anderson's voice was also there.

"Don't make it too obvious. If she complains, I can stall her. Just say the housekeeping service isn't finished and there's a dispute over the fees."

Maggie said, "She even said she'd call the police. So what? I'm sixty. If I just lie down on the ground, who would dare touch me?"

Mia laughed. "Mom, you were really good yesterday."

Everyone laughed.

Carter added, "Let's stay until the end of the month. She has money for a hotel; she's the one who'll be desperate."

Mr. Anderson reminded them, "If you really sell the stuff, find someone you know. Don't leave any records."

Mia said, "Don't worry, I'll use a burner account."

I stood behind the fire door, listening, my fingertips numb.

So they never intended to leave from the start.

"Not feeling well," "the child has nowhere to go"all just excuses.

I recorded their conversation on my phone until their laughter faded.

My chest felt like a burning iron block.

I endured it all night, gave them chances, called property management, involved the police, reasoned with the contract.

They thought I was easy to bully.

They said I was just a woman.

They said I was the one who was desperate.

I turned and went downstairs, walking to the flower beds in the complex, and called Jason.

"Jason, I need a favor."

"Name it."

"Send me all the purchase and sales contracts, invoices, serial numbers, and insurance policies for the studio's equipment and samples. Also, get your lawyer friend to review the evidence with me tonight."

Jason paused. "Is something wrong?"

I looked up at the light on the twenty-third floor and said softly,

"Someone moved into my home. I'm going to make them regret it bitterly."

Jason cursed.

I said, "Don't rush."

"Since they think I'm weak, I'll let them show their true colors."