“Jane, we need to talk about the vacation.”
I nodded, curious.
We had been home for two days now. Back from our trip to the seaside, staying in a luxurious resort. It was almost the break I needed, minus the fact that I had the Smiths’ three children, and their friends, the Johnsons’ two sons to care for as well.
I was just doing my job in a fancier location.
“Of course,” I said. “It was a lovely trip. Thank you again for inviting me.”
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Smith started. “We need to discuss the plane tickets. When will you be able to return the $1000?”
I blinked. I was sure that I had misheard her.
“Sorry, $1000? For the tickets? What?”
“Yes, for the tickets, Jane,” she spoke slowly as if I was stupid. “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 kind of money to spare. I was their full-time nanny, with a mother to care for at home.
“But you told me that everything was sorted. You said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Jane. We’ve got it all covered.’”
Mrs. Smith’s expression hardened. Mr. Smith gazed at me.
“That was before the Johnsons refused to sign a business deal with Craig. That was the entire purpose of the holiday. Mr. Smith and I needed to woo them. So, there’s no need to seem generous now, Jane. You have exactly one week to return the money, or it will be taken from your pay.”
I was stunned. The room felt like it was spinning.
“But… I can’t afford that, Mrs. Smith,” I admitted. “Most of my salary goes to the rent at home and my mother’s medication. I can’t take that away from her. And you didn’t mention anything about paying you back!”
“That’s not our problem, Jane. One week,” Mr. Smith reiterated, reaching for a croissant from the tea tray left for Mrs. Smith. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the end of the discussion.
That night, I sat in my tiny room a few feet away from the Smiths’ house. I was seething. How could they do this? I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.
Then it hit me: the Smiths cared deeply about their social standing and their reputation.
“Of course, that’s all they care about,” I muttered to myself as I brushed my teeth before bed. “But I can use that to my advantage.”
The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I created a fake email account. I drafted a polite but detailed message about my experience, making sure to be clear without naming any names.
But there were enough telltale signs pointing to the Smiths, from their cars to the kids, to the gold facial appointments that Mrs. Smith bragged about.
Thereafter, I sent it to the key people in their social circle, including the other influential families that the Smiths wanted to be in league with.
“I just don’t understand what they want from us,” I overheard Mrs. Smith say into the phone later that day. “Eva asked me if everything is true, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
A few days later, the gossip started spreading. The Smiths’ dirty little secret on how they treated “their staff” was out, and naturally, their reputation took a hit.
Mrs. Smith called in a masseuse to soothe her muscles.
“Just let them into the spa when they arrive, Jane,” she said. “I need all the help I can get.”
Later that day, when I went to pick the kids up from school, the other nannies were hanging about, waiting for the bell to ring.
“Did you read the email about the Smiths?” one of the nannies said. “Jane, are they really like that?”
I nodded.
“They’re good parents, but they’re horrible people,” I admitted, not wanting to give away that I was the person who sent out the email.
“How long will you work for them?” another asked me. “I couldn’t live or work under those circumstances. Rich people need to learn that respect for them is earned, too.”
I smiled.
The nannies went back and forth as we waited. And through their chatter, I discovered something interesting about Mrs. Smith.
Turns out that my employer had a habit of “borrowing” items from her friends and never returning them.
“An entire Gucci handbag, Jane,” Mina said. “Mrs. Smith asked my ma’am if she could borrow it for a fundraising gala two months ago.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I said, shocked. “I didn’t know that she was capable of that sort of thing. But she doesn’t like me getting too close to her things anyway.”
A few days later, Mrs. Smith held one of her ladies’ luncheons. It was a monthly event that she loved hosting, but this time it was only two weeks into the month.
“I need this to go well, Jane,” she said as I cut fruit up for the kids. “So, you need to attend it. The kids will be at school. Everything will be catered for. Just walk around and talk to the women. Make us seem human.”
I knew that she was puzzling. She must have heard more than enough through the grapevine.
During the event, I walked around as requested of me. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip. And I had nothing to lose. The Smiths were probably going to fire me at the end of the week when I couldn’t make the $1000.
“We’ll deal with it, darling,” my mother coughed into the phone when I told her the truth of the matter.
At the luncheon, I walked around, casually mentioning to the ladies how much I admired Mrs. Smith’s collection, making sure that I spoke to Eva, Mina’s employer.
“Mrs. Smith has a stunning handbag similar to yours,” I said. “Gucci. Did she lend you this one? She’s always telling me that she lends her things out because she has so much.”
Eva looked at me over the top of her champagne glass.
“Is that so, Jane?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Whispers started circulating. By the end of the luncheon, Mrs. Smith’s reputation for borrowing without returning was the hot topic.
The next morning, her friends began asking for their things back.
Mrs. Smith was mortified.
During dinner the next night, Mr. Smith called me to the table, asking me to join them.
“Thank you, but I usually wait for Ivy and Melanie to eat,” I said politely, mentioning the chef and her helper.
“No, sit with us,” he insisted.
I obliged.
Despite his tone, I hoped that maybe he was going to tell me that the money could be forgotten. And that everything would return as normal.
“It has come to my attention that an anonymous email has gone out,” he said, cutting into his steak.
“A disgusting email,” Mrs. Smith added, taking a long sip of her wine.
“Did you have anything to do with it?” he asked me, his eyes trying to coax a confession out of me.
I shook my head, looking down at my plate.
“Then that settles it,” he said, knowingly. “You’re dismissed. You can pack up and get out tomorrow.”
I did exactly as I was told and moved back home. A week later, Mrs. Johnson called me.
“Jane, can you come over for tea?” she asked warmly.
“Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” I replied, curious about the nature of the invitation.
As we sat in her luxurious living room, she looked at me with genuine concern.
“I heard about what the Smiths did to you. It’s disgraceful.”
I nodded, trying to keep my composure.
“Well,” she continued. “We’ve decided to cut ties with the Smiths entirely. And we’d like to offer you a job. Better pay, better working conditions. We could use someone like you for our kids.”
I was stunned.
“Of course!” I exclaimed. I needed the job desperately.
“You’ve earned it,” she smiled. “The boys loved having you watch them during the holiday. And somehow, you got Jonathan to eat his peas!”
I don’t know how the Smiths reacted to me working for the Johnsons, but I hoped that they felt betrayed.
What would you have done?
I Burned My Face in a Fire and My Husband Dumped Me – Years Later, I Accidentally Ran into Him & He Was Shocked
I thought my husband and I were going to be together forever, but when the fire happened, I changed physically while he changed his mind. My husband ended up leaving me because of how I looked, but in the end, I got the last laugh.
It was a chilly fall evening when the fire started. I still remember the sharp scent of wood smoke hanging in the air, mingling with the distant laughter of children playing on the street before the fire caught up with me, forever changing my life.
A woman reading a book close to a furnace | Source: Midjourney
The house we were renting had an old, unreliable furnace. I told Evan we should have it checked, but like so many things, he brushed off my concerns. He always did that; dismissed my worries as if they were nothing.
But I guess that’s what happens when you’re married to someone studying to become a doctor. Evan always thought he knew better. That night, eight years ago, I lit a few candles in the living room.
A woman lighting candles in her home | Source: Midjourney
The power was flickering on and off, and I wanted to make the place feel cozy and warm, like a home. The wind rattled the windows, but I didn’t think much of it. I had a mug of tea in my hands, and I was reading a book, lost in another world.
Then I smelled it; something acrid, burning. Before I knew it, the fire from the furnace was spreading fast, climbing up the walls like a living thing, eating everything in its path! I jumped to my feet, knocking over the candles in the process, causing the flames to grow even fiercer!
A living room burning down | Source: Midjourney
My heart pounded in my chest as panic set in! I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher, but by then, it was too late! The fire had consumed half the living room! I screamed for Evan, who was upstairs studying!
His footsteps thundered down the stairs. When he saw the fire, his eyes went wide, and for the first time, I saw real fear on his face! He wasn’t the cool, collected medical student anymore but just a man, terrified of losing everything.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“Get out!” he shouted, but I was frozen, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the extinguisher.
I didn’t even see it coming, the beam from the ceiling that crashed down, pinning me to the ground. The heat was unbearable, and I could feel my face blistering from the intensity of the flames!
My husband pulled me out just in time, dragging me across the floor and out into the yard. I was in shock, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. I could hear the distant wail of sirens, but all I could focus on was the pain, the excruciating, searing pain that tore through my body.
An injured woman lying on the floor | Source: Midjourney
I was rushed to the hospital, but I barely remember the ride. The next few days passed in a haze of surgeries and painkillers. When I finally woke up, I was wrapped in bandages, my entire face covered. Evan sat beside me, his face pale and hands trembling as he held mine.
He looked at me, and I could see the fear in his eyes.
“I… I don’t know how to…” he stammered, looking horrified when the doctors removed my bandages to check on my healing.
I wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay, but I didn’t have the strength.
An injured woman lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
I could feel the distance between us growing in that hospital room, like a chasm neither of us knew how to cross. When I was eventually discharged, he hired a nurse to look after me at our house while renovations were underway.
Evan was distant when I arrived, having survived the fire but with severe burns on my face, arms, chest, and shoulders. Despite the tension between us, I was happy he was still around and looked forward to us working together on my recuperation.
But I didn’t expect what he did next.
An unhappy man | Source: Midjourney
The following day, Evan woke up early, packed all his things, and sent me a brief message that read, “I can’t be with someone like THIS.”
Evan, the man I loved, the man I married, couldn’t handle what happened to me. He couldn’t bear to look at me, to be with me now that I was scarred. I initially believed his rejection would be the end of me, but I surprisingly managed to pull myself together.
An unhappy woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
For weeks, I followed my doctor’s recommendations, enduring many surgeries, each one more painful than the last. I even underwent therapy. It was hard to recover from both the physical and emotional wounds.
The doctors did everything they could to save my face, but I knew I would never look the same again. The woman I saw in the mirror was a stranger, someone I didn’t recognize.
A woman looking at her reflection in a mirror | Source: Pexels
Despite undergoing both physical and emotional therapy, nothing prepared me for the day I had to return to a world where everyone would see the scars. A world where people would look at me with pity or disgust.
I had to learn how to be strong again and to rebuild my life without Evan.
That’s when I met Jim…
A doctor | Source: Pexels
He wasn’t like Evan. Jim was calm, steady, and kind in a way that felt genuine, not forced. We met at a support group for burn survivors, and though I was hesitant at first, we connected over my experiences and his knowledge.
He had seen trauma and worked with patients who had faced similar hardships and never once flinched when he looked at me. As a doctor, Jim had access to some of the best teams of specialists in reconstructive surgery, and he made it his mission to help me regain my confidence.
Doctor operating on someone | Source: Pexels
It wasn’t about making me look like I used to; it was about helping me feel like myself again. We fell in love slowly, with Jim loving me for who I am. He supported me through every step of my recovery, and the success of the surgeons was beyond what I’d hoped for.
He always told me I was beautiful, even when I couldn’t see it. It wasn’t just words with him; he meant it. For the first time in years, I felt like I could truly be myself! Long story short, we ended up getting married, and I was the happiest I’d ever been!
A couple getting married | Source: Midjourney
Fast forward to last Saturday, the night Jim was celebrating his promotion. We were at a fancy restaurant, surrounded by his colleagues whom we invited. I felt a little out of place, but my husband was so proud to have me there by his side.
The night was going perfectly until I saw him…Evan.
Two men talking at an event | Source: Midjourney
He was standing across the room, talking to one of Jim’s co-workers. I felt the air leave my lungs. For a moment, I wasn’t the strong, confident woman I had become. I was that terrified girl staring at a message that shattered my heart.
Suddenly, he walked over with a wide smile, congratulating Jim on his promotion. But then, something had changed.
“You’re lucky,” Evan said, looking me up and down, flirting mildly. “You’ve got a beautiful wife.”
I smiled, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “I bet he is.”
It dawned on me… Evan didn’t recognize me.
Two men talking at an event | Source: Midjourney
I had prepared a speech for my husband that night, a little tribute to everything he had done for me. But as I stood there, microphone in hand, looking at Evan, I decided to change things up a bit as I noticed an opportunity.
I realized I had to let him know who I was, so I held the microphone tight and set things straight. I started talking about my journey, from the fire to the surgeries, and how I had been abandoned by my ex-husband when I needed someone the most.
A woman making a speech | Source: Midjourney
I glanced over at Evan as I spoke about my ex, and his face paled as he realized who I was.
“I was lucky not to have to get here alone,” I said, my voice steady. “There was a time when I didn’t believe in myself, when I didn’t think I could ever move forward. But I found someone who saw me for who I am, not for how I look.”
As the slideshow played, showing photos of my scars and the aftermath of the fire, Evan stood frozen. He looked like he wanted to disappear before he rushed outside, clearly shaken by my revelation.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Without saying his name, I had allowed the audience to piece together what had happened. Jim had no idea about my past with Evan, but when I told him later that night, he was furious. He wanted to confront my ex right then and there, but I stopped him.
“It’s not worth it,” I said. “He’s already living with the consequences of his choices.”
A couple talking while sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few months, my husband started paying more attention to Evan’s work and noticed how poorly he treated his patients. Evan’s behavior gave Jim the opportunity to make some changes at work, and due to his bad performance at work, Evan was let go.
“It’s satisfying to see that my past, painful as it was, ultimately led me to where I needed to be,” I told my husband one night as he held my hand in bed. In the end, life has a way of bringing things full circle.
A couple lying in bed while holding hands | Source: Midjourney
Evan’s ex wasn’t the only woman who got her sweet revenge after her husband decided to divorce her with no solid grounds. In the following story, Mike’s wife was ready when he tried to blindside her with a divorce. In fact, he ended up calling her, begging for assistance after she moved out.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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