A son discovers his mother’s will and what he reads in it makes him tell her to pack her bags immediately and get ready to leave his house.
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Gerald Nizbit stared at the text on his screen in astonishment, then he picked up the phone. “Helen,” he said crisply to his assistant. “Get me my lawyer on the phone, then Margaret Pratt, then my mother — in that order!”
Helen had been Gerald’s personal assistant for ten years, and she knew he wasn’t a particularly patient man, so she immediately started calling his attorney. In his office, Gerald was staring at the screen and shaking his head in disbelief. Oh, he was going to pay her back for this!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Finally, Helen managed to get hold of the lawyer and put him through. “Sam,” said Gerald crisply. “Old boy, I just wanted to advise you that you committed a faux pas! You sent me my mother’s will for approval instead of sending it to her.”
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On the other side of the line, the lawyer blustered his apologies and embarrassment, but Gerald had said what he wanted to say so he quickly dismissed him and hung up. He sat staring out of his huge floor-to-ceiling window at the snowy New York skyline until the phone rang again.
This time it was Margaret Pratt. Gerald outlined his requirements succinctly, and told her, “I want it for today, Miss Pratt.” He listened to her objecting on the other side of the line then interjected.
“If you can’t get it sorted, I’ll go to someone who can.” The response on the other side of the line made him smile grimly. “This afternoon then, at 17:00,” he said and hung up.
He picked up the internal phone. “Helen, you can get me my mother now,” he said.
Within seconds, the ever-efficient Helen was patching through Mrs. Edith Nezbit. “Mother!” Gerald said. “Have two things to tell you. First of all Sam Kelson sent me your new will by mistake…and I want you to pack your bags immediately.”
Sitting in the lounge of Gerald’s gorgeous house where she lived with him Edith was speechless. “Gerald…Are you upset about the will? Please let me explain…”
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For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
True value is what is attributed by the heart.
“I don’t need your explanations, Mother, I need you to have your bags packed and be ready to leave by 16:00,” Gerald said, and hung up. Edith sat there with her heart pounding. She’d thought Gerald would understand!
He was the youngest of her three children, and the one who’d always stood by her, helped her through the difficulties of life, and when Edith’s arthritis threatened to cripple her this last year, even though she was only 62, had taken her home to live with him.
Edith went upstairs to her room and packed her bags. Yes, she’d left all her money to her two older children, but she honestly thought Gerald would understand. Edith stared at her suitcase with tears blurring her vision.
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She had hurt her most beloved and kindest child! She had to explain! Edith called Gerald’s housekeeper to help her with her suitcase and went downstairs to wait anxiously for Gerald.
At 16:00 there he was, punctual as ever. He walked in, gave her a brief peck on the cheek and Edith cried, “Please Gerald. let me explain!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“I don’t have time for explanations, Mother. Come,” he said. “Everything is arranged.” He picked up Edith’s bag and carried it out to his car and put it in his trunk. Edith got into the car without a word.
Gerald drove without saying a word. “Where are we going, Gerald?” Edith asked, but Gerald chose that exact moment to turn on the radio and didn’t answer her. Edith looked around. She’d never been to this part of the city before…
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“Listen, Gerald, about the will…” Edith said bravely.
“Oh, the will!” said Gerald, glancing over at his mother and frowning. “The will in which you leave your house and $120,000 in savings to be divided between Amy and Oliver, and I get the old cabin by the lake and grandfather’s photos from the war, and dad’s watch?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Yes…” whispered Edith. “You see…” But right then Gerald stopped the car. They had arrived at what appeared to be a small private airport, and a sleek private jet was waiting.
Gerald turned to Edith, and there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, mom, I understand about the house and the money. Amy and Oliver are struggling and I have more money than I could ever spend.
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“But what you are leaving me, mom, shows me how well you understand me. You know exactly what is important to me and close to my heart. I have all the money I need but the memories you are giving me are precious!”
“But Gerald…” gasped Edith. “I thought you were kicking me out!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Gerald grinned. “No such luck! I’m taking you to Tahiti for two weeks. I think it would do your arthritis the world of good, and I could use some quality time with my mom!”
Edith embraced her youngest — and secretly her favorite son, with tears in her eyes. He’d understood! Edith knew that her father and her husband’s keepsakes would be cherished and passed on lovingly by Gerald.
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The two spent a lovely time in Tahiti, and Gerald got himself a tan and even met a lovely girl who was also on vacation and came from New York and it looked to Edith like maybe she wouldn’t have to wait too long for those grandchildren after all!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t judge people’s intentions by your own fears. Edith was afraid her son would be angry over her will so she thought he was throwing her out.
- True value is what is attributed by the heart not what something costs. For Gerald, the photos, the watch, and the old cabin were more precious than millions of dollars.
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My MIL Tried on My Wedding Dress and Ruined It — She Refused to Pay for It, So I Used My Secret Weapon
АМАМI didn’t think much of it when my future MIL kept pestering me about my wedding dress until I came home to find my $3,000 gown missing! The truth? She’d tried it on, ruined it, and refused to pay. Furious and desperate, I confronted her — armed with a secret weapon that changed everything.
I should have known something was wrong when Janet, my future mother-in-law, kept asking about my wedding dress.
A woman frowning while checking her phone messages | Source: Midjourney
For weeks, she’d text me almost daily: “Have you found the dress yet?” or “Make sure you pick something nice, dear. You don’t want to look like a doily.”
But despite her constant nagging, there was always some excuse whenever I invited her to come dress shopping with me.
“Sorry, I have a migraine,” she’d say. Or, “Oh, I’m just too busy this weekend.”
My mom noticed it too.
A woman having a conversation with her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Strange how invested she is for someone who won’t even come look,” she said one afternoon as we browsed through our third bridal boutique of the day.
I shrugged it off, trying to focus on the excitement of finding my perfect dress.
“I don’t get it either. But hey, at least I don’t have to deal with her criticizing my choices, right?”
I turned to look at a different display right near the back of the shop. That’s when I saw it: an ivory A-line gown with delicate lace detailing and a sweetheart neckline.
A wedding dress on display in a store | Source: Midjourney
The moment I tried it on, I knew. The way it hugged my curves before flowing out gracefully, the subtle sparkle of the beading catching the light — it was everything I’d dreamed of.
“Oh, honey,” my mom whispered, tears in her eyes. “This is the one.”
The price tag read $3,000. Which was more than I’d planned to spend, but sometimes perfection comes at a cost.
As I stood there in the fitting room, my mom snapping pictures from every angle, I felt like a real bride. Everything was falling into place.
A woman trying on a wedding dress in a store | Source: Midjourney
I texted Janet the minute I got home to tell her I’d found the perfect dress. She replied within minutes, demanding I bring the dress so she could see it.
I texted her back: “Sorry, Janet, but I’m going to keep it right here until the big day. I’ll send you the pictures my mom took.”
“No. I don’t want to see pictures!” she texted back immediately. “Bring the dress!”
A woman reading a message on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I firmly refused again, and again. She was very insistent but eventually seemed to realize I wasn’t going to risk damaging my precious and very expensive gown by driving it across town just for her to look at.
Two weeks later, I spent the day at my mom’s house, going over wedding details and working on DIY centerpieces. When I got home that evening, something felt off.
A woman in an apartment looking puzzled | Source: Midjourney
The apartment was too quiet, and Mark’s shoes weren’t by the door where he usually kicked them off.
“Mark?” I called out, dropping my keys on the kitchen counter. No answer.
I headed to our bedroom to change clothes, and that’s when panic hit me like a bucket of ice water.
The garment bag containing my wedding dress wasn’t hanging on the back of the closet door where I’d left it. I immediately guessed what had happened.
A closet in a bedroom | Source: Pexels
My hands shook with anger as I dialed Mark’s number.
“Hey, babe,” he answered, his voice oddly hesitant.
“You took my dress to your mom’s place, didn’t you?” The words came out sharp and scared.
“She just wanted to see it, and you weren’t home, so…”
I didn’t let him finish. “Bring it back. Right now!”
When Mark walked through the door thirty minutes later, I knew something was wrong.
A guilty-looking man | Source: Midjourney
He smiled like everything was normal but the guilt in his eyes was obvious. My heart was in my throat as I took the garment bag and unzipped it, fearing the worst.
The dress inside was stretched out of shape, the delicate lace torn in places. The zipper hung crooked, broken teeth glinting mockingly in the overhead light.
“What did you do?” My voice came out as a whisper.
A shocked and upset woman in an apartment | Source: Midjourney
“What do you mean?” Mark frowned at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“This!” I gestured to the broken zip, the ruined lace, the stretched fabric. Tears filled my eyes as the full extent of the damage became clear. “My wedding dress is ruined!”
“It’s… not that bad. I really don’t know how that happened, honey. Maybe… it was badly made and tore when Mom opened the garment bag?”
A man feigning innocence | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped. “The only way this could’ve happened is if… oh my God! She tried on my wedding dress, didn’t she?”
“Uh…”
“How could you, Mark?” I pulled out my phone and dialed Janet’s number. “She isn’t the same size as me and even if she was, this is MY WEDDING GOWN! Not some sundress from Target.”
Janet answered the phone, and I put her on speaker.
A woman using her cell phone | Source: Pexels
“You ruined my wedding dress! The lace is torn, the zip is ruined, the fabric is stretched out… you and Mark owe me $3000 dollars to replace it.”
Mark’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
And Janet’s reply? She laughed, actually laughed!
“Don’t be so dramatic! I’ll replace the zipper; I know exactly how to do it, and it will be as good as new.”
A woman staring at her phone in disbelief | Source: Midjourney
“No, it won’t,” I replied, my voice cracking. “Repairing the zip won’t fix the rest of the damage. I have to replace the dress, Janet. You know you shouldn’t have tried it on, and now you need to step up and fix this.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Janet said sharply.
I looked at Mark, waiting for him to defend me. Instead, he stared at the floor.
My heart broke. I couldn’t bear to deal with him or his awful mother anymore at that moment. I hung up the call, went to the bedroom, and sobbed my eyes out while clutching my ruined dress.
A sad woman clutching a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney
Two days later, Mark’s sister Rachel showed up at my door. Her expression was grim.
“I was there,” she said without preamble. “When Mom tried on your dress. I tried to stop her, but you know how she is. I’m so sorry.”
I invited her in, and she pulled out her phone. “When I realized I couldn’t stop her, I realized there was something else I could do to help you. Here — this will make my mom pay for everything.”
She held out her phone. What I saw on the screen made me sick.
A young woman holding up her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
There was Janet, squeezed into my dress, laughing as she posed in front of her mirror. The fabric strained across her body, the zipper clearly struggling to close.
“She needs to pay for what she did,” Rachel said. “And these pictures are the key.”
I listened closely as Rachel outlined exactly how I could use the pictures to teach Janet a lesson.
A woman listening closely to a young woman | Source: Midjourney
Armed with Rachel’s photos, I confronted Janet again and told her I’d share the photos if she didn’t pay the $3000 she owed me for ruining my dress.
“You wouldn’t dare share those,” she said, examining her manicure. “Think about what it would do to the family.”
I looked at her perfect makeup, her expensive clothes, her carefully cultivated image of the doting mother-in-law. “Try me.”
A confident woman standing with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
That night, I created the Facebook post with shaking hands.
I uploaded Rachel’s photos along with pictures of my ruined dress. I wrote about how my future mother-in-law had tried on my wedding dress without permission and destroyed it. How she’d refused to take responsibility or replace it.
“A wedding dress represents so much more than just a piece of clothing,” I wrote. “It represents dreams, hopes, and trust. All of which have been destroyed along with my dress.”
An emotional woman typing on her phone | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, Janet burst into our apartment without knocking, her face red with fury.
“Take it down!” she screamed, waving her phone in my face. “Do you have any idea what people are saying about me? I’m being humiliated! My friends, my church group, everyone’s seen it!”
“You humiliated yourself when you decided to try on my dress without permission.”
“Mark!” she turned to her son. “Tell her to take it down!”
A furious woman yelling and pointing her finger | Source: Midjourney
Mark looked between us, his face pale. “Mom, maybe if you just offered to replace the dress —”
“Replace it? After what she’s done?” Janet’s voice reached a pitch that probably only dogs could hear. “Never!”
I looked at Mark, really looked at him. At the way he shrunk from conflict, the way he’d let his mother walk all over both of us, the way he’d betrayed my trust without a second thought.
“You’re right, Janet,” I said quietly. “The dress doesn’t need to be replaced.”
Close up of a heartbroken woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and placed it on the coffee table. “Because there won’t be a wedding. I deserve better than a man who won’t stand up for me, and better than a mother-in-law who has no respect for boundaries.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Janet’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Mark started to speak, but I walked to the door and held it open.
“Please leave. Both of you.”
A woman pointing her finger while speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
As I watched them go, I felt lighter than I had in months.
Here’s another story: I never believed in fortune tellers, but when my best friend insisted I visit Madame Selene, I reluctantly agreed. Then came the bombshell: my husband is hiding a betrayal. Doubts creep in, but my world spun when I overheard Selene gloating about scamming me. Who was behind this, and why?
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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