I could tell something was wrong when Ben walked through the door that Friday evening. He was dragging his feet, and the usual brightness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.
His hands were still wet, probably from wringing out the towels after washing another car, and he avoided eye contact as he dropped onto the couch.
A frustated little boy | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, bud, what’s going on?” I called from the kitchen.
I had planned on making him his favorite grilled chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. I was going to have his plate ready the moment he walked in.
But looking at him now, I was worried. Ben was only 14 but recently got a taste of making money and wanted to be independent.
Plates of food | Source: Midjourney
“Come on,” I said, wiping my hands. “You can tell me anything!”
For a second, he didn’t answer but stared at the ground. My heart sank when I saw the frustration etched on his face.
It was like he was trying to find the words but didn’t know how to get them out.
A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
“He… he didn’t pay me,” Ben finally muttered.
“What do you mean? Didn’t Mr. Peterson agree to pay you $50 each time you washed his car?” I asked, feeling my own brow furrow.
Ben let out a sigh that sounded far too heavy for a 14-year-old.
“Yeah, but today, after I finished washing the car for the fourth time this month, he said it wasn’t ‘spotless’ and that I wouldn’t get paid. At all! He said I should have done a better job if I wanted my money.”
An upset boy | Source: Midjourney
I felt my fists tighten. Mr. Peterson, that smug neighbor of ours who always had something slick to say. He strutted around in his suits, making sure everyone noticed the shine on his precious black Jeep.
“It’s a beautiful car, isn’t it?” he would ask, leaning out of his car. “Stunning!”
A few months ago, he became interested in Ben, especially after seeing Ben wash my car.
“Whoa! You’ve done a great job on your mom’s car, Ben! What do you say about washing my car every Friday? I’ll pay you, of course!”
A Jeep parked in a driveway | Source: Midjourney
Initially, I thought that it was a compliment, but now I could see it for what it really was:
A way to exploit cheap labor.
“You’ve been washing that car every week this month, haven’t you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben nodded, sinking deeper into the couch.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, I’ve spent about three hours for the past four weeks, just making sure that it was clean. I even used the hand-vacuum under the seats and everything. But he said that I didn’t deserve to be paid.”
A flush of anger bloomed across my chest.
I knew Ben had done a great job. Whenever he did our car, I was always so impressed by him. And anyway, Mr. Peterson’s car gleamed like a showroom model when my son was done with it.
A frustrated boy | Source: Midjourney
This wasn’t about the car being clean. No, sir. It was about Mr. Peterson being a jerk.
And now?
Now, Ben was left feeling like his hard work wasn’t worth anything.
“How much does he owe you?” I asked.
Ben thought for a moment.
A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney
“Four washes, Mom. So, $200.”
I pulled out my wallet and counted $200 in crisp bills. I handed it to him, watching his eyes widen in surprise.
“Here, you earned this, sweetheart.”
“Mom, you don’t have to. It was Mr. Peterson’s job to pay me!” he exclaimed.
I shook my head, cutting him off.
A woman taking money out of her wallet | Source: Midjourney
“I’m not done with Mr. Peterson, honey. He doesn’t get to treat you like this and walk away.”
Ben looked uncertain, his eyes flicking from the money in his hand to me.
“But, Mom!”
“No ‘buts,’ Ben,” I said, putting my wallet away. “Trust me, I’m going to teach Mr. Peterson a lesson about what happens when you take advantage of someone’s hard work. Now, come on, let’s eat. I’m starving!”
Ben smiled and sat down at the table.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, smiling.
The next morning, I woke up with a plan. Mr. Peterson had no idea what was coming. I glanced out the window and, sure enough, there he was, standing in his silk pajamas, meticulously polishing his Jeep like a man obsessed.
I smiled and headed outside, casually walking toward him in my yoga clothes.
“Good morning, Mr. Peterson!” I called out cheerfully.
A man standing next to a Jeep in pajamas | Source: Midjourney
He looked up from his car, his usual smug expression already in place.
“Morning, Irene,” he said. “What can I do for you? But make it quick, I have brunch with the family soon.”
I could have rolled my eyes.
“Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to check in about Ben’s payment for washing your car,” I said. “He mentioned you weren’t satisfied with his work yesterday.”
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Peterson straightened his back and crossed his arms.
“Yes, that’s right, Irene. The car wasn’t spotless, so I didn’t see the need to pay him. It’s a learning experience, you know? Anyway, he’s a young lad. The world has to humble him.”
The anger from the night before flared up again, but I kept my face neutral, even smiling a little.
“A learning experience, huh?” I said. “Interesting. Ben did tell me that you were a man of your word… and he mentioned that you agreed to pay him $50 per wash, regardless of how spotless it was. And wouldn’t you know it! I’ve got the pictures he took of the car after every wash.”
A man standing next to a Jeep | Source: Midjourney
The smugness in his expression cracked a little.
“Pictures?” Mr. Peterson asked.
“Yes, pictures. He enjoyed sending them to his grandfather after every wash. He is very proud of his work.”
Mr. Peterson grunted.
“And anyway, it seems to me like a verbal agreement was made. And breaking that? Well, that’s a breach of contract, isn’t it? Should I speak to my lawyer about this?”
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
The color drained from his face.
“There’s no need for all that!” he exclaimed.
I held up a hand.
“Oh, I think there is. See, Ben worked hard, and you’re trying to cheat him out of what he earned. So, here’s the deal. You pay my son the $200 today, or I’ll make sure everyone in this neighborhood knows how you treat kids who work for you.”
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
He just stared at me.
“And if that doesn’t convince you, I’m more than happy to take legal action,” I continued.
I could see the panic settle into his features now. The neighbor with the perfect lawn and the perfect Jeep was suddenly sweating bullets into his silk pajamas.
He opened the car door and fumbled for his wallet, quickly counting out the cash.
A man’s wallet | Source: Midjourney
“Here’s your money,” he muttered, handing over $200 in crumpled bills.
“Great. It’s been good doing business with you,” I said with a smile. “But please, understand that my son will not touch a car of yours again.”
He nodded grimly.
Inside, Ben looked up from the couch when I walked in. He had a bowl of cereal in his hands, and his eyes widened when I handed him the cash.
A boy holding a bowl of cereal | Source: Midjourney
“You actually did it!” he exclaimed.
I grinned, feeling a fierce sense of pride.
“No one messes with my son,” I said. “Especially when they think they can get away with not paying what’s owed. Next time, if someone tries to pull a stunt like that, you’ll know exactly how to handle it.”
“Does this mean that I have to give you the $200 back?” he grinned.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I laughed. “But I think you can take me out on a mother-son date for lunch today?”
“Deal, Mom,” he said.
Later, when we were sitting in a cute bistro, Ben leaned across his chair, squinting at the sign from the ice cream parlor across the road.
“Help wanted,” he read. “What do you think, Mom? A weekend job at an ice cream parlor?”
A mom and son duo at a bistro | Source: Midjourney
“Go for it,” I laughed, getting into my burger. “But if the boss is mean, you know who to call.”
My son smiled at me and nodded slowly before picking up a fry.
What would you have done?
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Made My Boss Regret Humiliating My Wife’s Appearance in Front of the Whole Office
When Colin and his wife, Alice, end up working at the same company for business tyrant Mr. Taylor, they think that they’ve gotten a sweet deal while they branch out to their passions. But after one mistake at work, Alice is ridiculed in front of everyone, causing Colin to retaliate. As the couple lose their jobs, Colin is left fighting for revenge…
Working as a driver for the owner of a mid-sized company was never the dream, but it paid the bills. If I had to be honest, I would tell you that what I had always wanted to do was own my own construction company, but life often works in funny ways.
A smiling man dressed as a chauffer | Source: Midjourney
The silver lining to being a driver was that I got to go to fancy places and I got to work alongside my wife, Alice. We’d met years ago, long before either of us ended up working at the same place. But when Alice got the job as Mr. Taylor’s personal assistant, she dropped him my resume.
“It’s going to be okay, Colin,” she told me one evening when we were making pasta for dinner.
“He needs a personal driver, and you can do that. Neither of us have to stay there forever, but the pay is good enough for the moment. So, until something better comes along for us, we’ll have to make do.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I know,” I agreed.
Read the full story here.
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.
I Always Felt Sick after Eating My MIL’s Dinner — My Life Changed Drastically When I Caught Her Red-Handed
Stella cherished her life with Zack and their children but repeated bouts of sickness after family dinners raised alarming suspicions. Determined to get to the bottom of it, Stella set a trap that led to a shocking discovery, leaving her questioning everything she knew about her family.
My name is Stella, and I’m a 32-year-old wife and mother. Life has been a whirlwind since I met Zack, my rock and my confidant. We’ve been married for seven years, and in that time, we’ve welcomed two beautiful kids into the world: Dylan, who’s six, and Faith, who’s five.
A couple standing in the kitchen with their kids | Source: Pexels
Our family isn’t perfect, but we’ve always found our way through the ups and downs together.
Zack and I met at a mutual friend’s wedding. He was charming, funny, and had this infectious smile that could light up any room. We clicked instantly. Fast forward a few years, and there we were, exchanging vows and building our life together.
Zack’s unwavering support and love were constants in my life, or so I thought. What I didn’t realize was that his mother, Cynthia, was quietly and determinedly working against me.
An elderly woman with a hand on her chin | Source: Pexels
Cynthia never approved of me from day one. She never outright said it, but her actions spoke volumes. She had this uncanny ability to be the sweetest person in Zack’s presence, but the moment he turned his back, she’d unleash her disdain.
“Stella, dear, you really should learn how to cook better,” she’d say with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes whenever Zack left the room. “Zack deserves so much more than what you’re offering.”
I’d tell Zack about these comments, but he’d always brush them off. “Mom’s just old-fashioned,” he’d say, laughing it off. “She doesn’t mean any harm.”
A husband laughs while talking to his wife | Source: Pexels
Cynthia loved Dylan and Faith, or at least, she acted like she did. She’d bring them gifts, bake cookies with them, and shower them with affection. It was as if she was trying to prove to Zack what a wonderful grandmother she was, all while subtly undermining me.
But this is where things become interesting and a bit dark. I always thought Cynthia’s dislike and disapproval of me were restricted to mere comments, but that was until we started receiving dinner invites from her and whatnot.
Every month, like clockwork, we’d attend family functions at her house. And every month, like clockwork, I’d end up feeling sick afterward. It started with a stomach ache, then nausea, and by the time we got home, I’d be racing to the bathroom, struck down by a severe case of diarrhea.
A woman suffering from stomachache lying in her bed | Source: Pexels
“Zack, I swear it’s something your mom’s putting in my food,” I told him one night after another miserable evening at Cynthia’s. I was curled up on the couch, clutching my stomach while Zack looked at me with concern and disbelief.
“Stella, come on,” he said, rubbing my back. “You know Mom wouldn’t do something like that. She loves us. She loves the kids.”
“Maybe she loves you and the kids, but she sure as hell doesn’t love me,” I muttered, the frustration boiling over. “She never gets sick. You never get sick. It’s always me. Every single time.”
A concerned woman talking to her husband | Source: Pexels
Zack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say, Stella. Maybe it’s just stress? You’ve been under a lot lately with the kids and work.”
I shook my head, tears welling up. “No, Zack. You don’t understand. It’s not stress.”
I knew Zack wouldn’t believe me until I had substantial proof. But how could I prove it? I couldn’t exactly go around accusing Cynthia of poisoning me without any evidence. The next family gathering loomed on the horizon, and the mere thought of another bout of illness filled me with dread.
A thoughtful woman sitting alone on the couch | Source: Midjourney
I needed a plan, something to catch her red-handed. I started to think about ways to monitor what Cynthia was doing to my food discreetly. Maybe I could switch our plates when she wasn’t looking? Or bring my own food and pretend to eat hers? The gears in my mind turned as I considered each possibility.
The night before our next visit, I lay in bed, my mind racing. Zack was already asleep, his breathing deep and even beside me. I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding with anxiety and determination.
A woman lying awake in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
The day of Cynthia’s birthday dinner arrived, and I was determined to confirm my suspicions. I dressed up, plastering a smile on my face, and braced myself for the evening ahead. Zack, as usual, was excited to see his mom and spend time with his family.
We arrived at Cynthia’s house, and she greeted us with her typical warmth.
“Stella, darling, so good to see you!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug that felt like being squeezed by a boa constrictor. “And Zack, my handsome son! Happy to have you home.”
A woman standing and waiting near a dining table to welcome guests | Source: Pexels
I forced a smile. “Happy birthday, Cynthia. The house looks lovely.”
“Thank you, dear,” she said, her eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “Come, everyone’s waiting in the dining room.”
When dinner was served, I waited for the right moment. While Cynthia was busy fussing over Dylan and Faith, I subtly swapped my plate and drink with Zack’s. My heart pounded as I tried to act naturally, engaging in small talk and pretending to enjoy the meal. Zack seemed oblivious, enjoying the food and chatting with his mom.
A man chatting with an older woman at the dinner table | Source: Pexels
As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but watch Cynthia closely. She was in her element, charming everyone with her stories and laughter. But I knew better. When it was finally time to leave, I felt a wave of relief and anxiety. I knew the real test would come once we got home.
“Thanks for the lovely evening, Cynthia,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Oh, anytime, Stella. You know you’re always welcome here,” she replied, her smile as fake as ever.
Two women hugging at a family dinner | Source: Pexels
Back home, Zack started feeling unwell almost immediately. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he groaned, clutching his stomach. “I think I’m coming down with something.”
I bit my lip, pretending to be concerned. “Oh no, Zack. Do you need anything? Should I get you some medicine?”
“Nah, I just need to lie down,” he said, heading to the bedroom.
The next morning, Zack was still sick. He was pale, exhausted, and frustrated. “I don’t get it. Why am I the only one who got sick? You ate the same food as me,” he said, looking at me suspiciously.
A man feeling unwell and looking pale and exhausted | Source: Midjourney
“Well, actually,” I began, taking a deep breath, “I switched our plates last night. I wanted to see if it was just me or if something else was going on.”
Zack’s face turned red with anger. “You did what!? Are you saying you poisoned me?”
“No, Zack! I didn’t poison you! I just needed to know if your mom was messing with my food,” I said, my voice shaking.
A senior woman in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
He stared at me with such hatred that it took my breath away. It was as if he had known all along what his mom was up to. “You’ve gone too far, Stella. This is insane.”
“I had to do it, Zack. She’s been making me sick for months, and you never believed me. Now you know the truth,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“I can’t believe you’d do something like this!” he snapped. “You’re not the woman I married!”
A couple arguing | Source: Pexels
“And your mom’s not the loving mother you think she is!” I retorted, tears streaming down my face. “I need to protect myself and our kids from her.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” he said, turning away from me. “Just go.”
That was the final straw. I quickly packed a couple of bags, my hands trembling as I gathered our things. Dylan and Faith were still asleep, oblivious to the turmoil. I gently woke them while trying to stay composed.
“Mommy, where are we going?” Dylan asked, rubbing his eyes.
A woman looking at her young son drinking juice in bed | Source: Pexels
“We’re going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a little while,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’ll be like a little vacation.”
Zack didn’t say a word as I loaded our things into the car. He just stood there, his expression a combination of anger and disbelief. I couldn’t bear to look at him as I buckled the kids into their seats.
I drove away feeling a strange sense of relief and sorrow. I had done what I needed to do, but it still hurt. The kids were quiet in the backseat, sensing the tension.
A woman driving a car | Source: Midjourney
At my parents’ house, they welcomed us with open arms. “Oh, Stella, what’s happened?” my mom asked, her face full of concern.
“It’s a long story, Mom,” I said, hugging her tightly. “But I’m done. I’ve had enough.”
Over the next few days, I started the process of hiring a divorce lawyer. It wasn’t easy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Zack tried to call a few times, but I didn’t answer. I needed space to think and to heal.
A sad man looking at the mobile phone in his hands | Source: Midjourney
One evening, as I was tucking Dylan and Faith into bed, Dylan looked up at me with his big, innocent eyes. “Mommy, are we going to see Daddy soon?”
I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know, sweetheart. But no matter what happens, I promise you and Faith that I’ll always be here for you.”
At that moment, I felt a surge of strength. I had done the right thing by protecting myself and my kids. And as painful as it was, I knew I was moving towards a better future.
A mother with her young son and daughter | Source: Pexels
So, what would you have done in my situation? Do you think I overreacted? Or was leaving Zack the right decision? I’m still processing everything, but deep down, I know I did what was best for me and my children.
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