Mary’s marriage to Ed came with a price: his mother Scarlett who never hid her disdain. From wedding-day insults to constant criticism, Scarlett seemed set on making Mary’s life difficult. Tensions grew with each visit… until something even more shocking unfolded.
Mary and her husband, Ed, drove in silence toward his mother Scarlett’s house. Though they hadn’t arrived yet, Mary was already looking forward to the ride back. Scarlett, after all, simply despised her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
At their wedding, Scarlett had even shown up wearing a veil; Mary had been grateful she hadn’t arrived in a full wedding dress. Scarlett was one of those mothers who couldn’t let go of her “little boy,” no matter how grown-up he was.
As they pulled into the driveway, Mary reluctantly stepped out, trailing behind Ed. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever latest insult Scarlett had in store.
Forcing a smile, she braced herself, hoping her expression would carry her through this visit. Scarlett opened the door with a wide grin and immediately wrapped her arms around Ed.
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“Oh, my baby! You’re finally here! I’ve missed you more than you know!” she exclaimed, holding him close.
“Mom, it’s only been a week,” Ed replied, easing himself out of her hug.
Scarlett gave Ed a brief look before turning her gaze to Mary, her expression shifting. “Well, Mary, I see you’ve gained a few pounds,” she said with a smirk.
Mary let out a quiet sigh, resisting the urge to respond. She forced a tight smile instead. “Good to see you too, Scarlett.”
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Dinner felt endless as Scarlett launched into her usual list of complaints. “Mary doesn’t know how to cook. She doesn’t work somewhere respectable. She doesn’t even know how to dress herself properly,” Scarlett declared, taking quick glances at Ed for support.
Mary gripped her fork tightly, biting her tongue. She knew any response would just add fuel to Scarlett’s fire. But then Scarlett said something that made Mary’s patience snap—words sharper than anything before.
Scarlett looked across the table, her eyes fixed on Mary. “Well,” she said slowly, “I think it’s high time you gave me a grandchild. Or maybe,” she added with a smirk, “Mary has… some issues?”
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Mary’s heart sank. They had been trying for a baby for six months with no success, and Scarlett’s words stung like salt in a wound. “How dare you!” Mary burst out. “Stop meddling in our lives! Maybe it’s your son who has the problem!”
Scarlett leaned back, eyes narrowing. “That’s absurd! My son is perfectly healthy, thank you very much. But you, Mary… who knows what you were up to before meeting Eddie?”
Mary’s face flushed with anger. “You’re a damn witch!” she shouted, her voice trembling. She turned to Ed, who hadn’t said a word. “Are you just going to sit there and let her say this?”
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Scarlett shot her son a pointed look. “Yes, Eddie, tell your crazy wife to show some respect,” she said, her tone mocking.
Ed shrugged, still scrolling through his phone. “Work it out yourselves.”
Scarlett leaned toward Mary, her voice low. “My neighbor mentioned herbal teas. She swears they help people like you.”
Mary opened her mouth to retort but felt a sudden wave of nausea. She clenched her stomach, forcing the words out. “Why don’t you… drink your own tea?”
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Unable to hold it back, Mary bolted to the bathroom. When she returned, still pale, she looked at Ed. “I want to go home.”
“Okay,” he said, barely glancing up.
Scarlett tilted her head, a fake look of concern crossing her face. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “You probably poisoned me,” she muttered, too tired to argue further.
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On the way home, Mary’s mind raced. She had to know for sure. “Ed, can you stop at the pharmacy?” she asked quietly.
He sighed but pulled into the parking lot. She hurried inside, grabbed a pregnancy test, and paid quickly. Back at home, she went straight to the bathroom. She held her breath, waiting. Then, the results appeared—two lines. She gasped, feeling a rush of excitement and relief.
She rushed to show Ed, her face glowing. “Ed, we’re going to have a baby!”
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Ed glanced at the test, his expression unreadable. “Oh. That’s… good,” he mumbled, barely meeting her eyes.
Mary’s heart sank a little. She was overjoyed, but Ed’s reaction felt like a shadow over her happiness.
A few weeks had passed since Mary found out she was pregnant, and she was finally starting to adjust to the idea of becoming a mother. It was their first doctor’s appointment, and she was sitting on the bed, waiting for Ed to finish his shower so they could leave together.
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She hoped he’d show some excitement, but he seemed distant lately, preoccupied and withdrawn
As she waited, Ed’s phone buzzed beside her, lighting up with a message. Usually, she respected his privacy. But the way he’d been acting made her hesitate.
Without fully realizing it, she reached for his phone. She tried to unlock it and was surprised to find a passcode. She couldn’t remember him ever using one before. On a whim, she tried his birth date. The screen unlocked immediately.
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The message stared back at her: a picture of a half-dressed woman, smiling in a way that made her stomach twist. Below the picture, a message read, “Can’t wait to see you, baby.”
Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the conversation, each word feeling like a fresh betrayal. Ed had told this woman he was wealthy, a construction company owner—a far cry from his real job.
Heart pounding, she took screenshots, saving them on her phone as evidence of his lies and deceit.
When Ed came out of the bathroom, she was waiting, holding his phone. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with hurt and anger.
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“What is this?!” she shouted, thrusting the phone toward him.
His expression turned hard, and he grabbed the phone from her hand. “None of your business,” he snapped.
Mary’s voice rose, filled with pain. “None of my business? You’re cheating on me! And I’m pregnant, Ed—your pregnant wife!”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’re the one cheating on me,” he shot back, a sneer forming on his face. “How do I even know this baby’s mine?”
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Mary felt her whole world spin. “Are you serious? We’ve been trying for six months. Now you’re saying this?” Her voice broke.
Ed crossed his arms. “Six months, no luck, and now all of a sudden it just happens? Convenient.”
“You’ve been seeing this woman for more than six months, Ed. I saw everything. You’ve lied to her, too! Told her you’re rich, that you own a company!” Mary’s voice trembled.
Ed shrugged, coldly unmoved. “Doesn’t matter. I’m filing for divorce. This marriage is over.”
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“You really think that woman will stick around when she learns the truth about you?” Mary shot back.
“Trust me, she won’t find out. And when this is over, I’ll take this house and everything else you have. Plus, my mom’s money.” He smirked.
Mary’s voice rose in protest. “This house was bought by my father!”
“Yeah? It’s in both our names,” Ed replied with a smug smile.
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Mary’s voice softened as she asked, “What about the baby?”
Ed just shrugged. “You can’t prove it’s mine until it’s born. By then, it’ll be too late.” And with that, he threw her out, leaving her in tears.
Desperate and hurt, Mary made a choice—to go to Scarlett and show her everything. Scarlett had to know the truth about her son.
She sat across from Scarlett, her heart pounding as she told her everything—Ed’s lies, his cheating, his threats to take the house. She held her breath, waiting for Scarlett to dismiss her. But to her surprise, she listened, her face growing pale.
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Scarlett looked down, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s been taking money from me too,” she said softly. “Every penny his father left me, everything I’ve saved. He said he needed it for doctor visits because you couldn’t get pregnant.”
Mary shook her head, feeling both anger and sadness. “He never even went to a doctor. Every time I brought it up, he refused. I checked our account, Scarlett. He’s been taking out huge amounts.”
Scarlett clenched her fists. “I can’t believe my son would do this,” she said, her voice shaking. “He lied to both of us.”
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Mary’s voice broke as she spoke. “I don’t know what to do. I’m pregnant, and he says he’ll take everything. He doesn’t even believe the baby is his.”
Scarlett’s eyes hardened. “I won’t let anyone hurt my future grandchild,” she said firmly. “We’ll make him pay. You have those messages saved, right?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, I took screenshots.”
Scarlett thought for a moment, then said, “I have one of his toothbrushes here. We can get a DNA test when the baby is born.”
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Mary looked at Scarlett, surprised. “You’ve never been on my side before. What changed?”
Scarlett sighed. “I was a mother trying to protect her son. But now I see I need to protect others from him. His father was the same—a cheater. I endured it, hoping Ed would be better. But he isn’t. And I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did.”
Mary and Scarlett moved forward with their plan. Mary confronted Ed directly, and she showed him the screenshots of his messages.
“I have all your messages,” she said, her voice steady as she held up her phone. “And I’ve already shown them to Scarlett. So you have no more room to manipulate anyone.”
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Ed looked shaken, but Mary continued, not backing down. “Here’s the deal,” she told him firmly. “Give up your claim to the house, sign these divorce papers, and agree to pay child support. Do this, and I’ll stay quiet. Otherwise, I’ll make sure your lover knows the truth.”
Backed into a corner, Ed reluctantly agreed and signed the papers without a word. He had no idea that Scarlett had the final piece of the plan.
Scarlett went to Ed’s lover herself, revealing everything—his lies, his fake claims of wealth, and his deception. She left nothing hidden, ensuring her son’s lies would come crashing down.
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When Ed found out, Scarlett was sitting with Mary, enjoying tea at her house. Suddenly, loud banging echoed from the front door, followed by Ed’s furious shouting.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell if I did everything you asked!” he yelled through the door, his voice sharp with anger.
Mary looked at the door calmly and replied, “I didn’t tell her anything, Ed.”
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Scarlett raised her voice so Ed could hear. “I did,” she called out firmly. “I taught you that lying is wrong, but you clearly didn’t learn.”
“You’re both insane!” Ed shouted, his voice shaking with rage. “You’ll regret this! I’ll make you pay!”
Just then, the police arrived, alerted by a neighbor’s call. They restrained Ed, leading him away as he continued yelling threats, while Mary and Scarlett stayed inside, unshaken while finishing their tea.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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I Discovered My Husband Mocks Me in Front of His Friends & I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget
I’m a full-time mom. About a year ago, I left my job to take care of our three-year-old daughter, who is autistic and requires a lot of support. Lately, I’ve noticed that my usually feminist husband has been criticizing me in a group chat.
Transitioning into the role of a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) wasn’t something I had envisioned for myself. I used to thrive in the fast-paced world of marketing, surrounded by campaigns and fueled by brainstorming sessions over coffee. But all that changed a little over a year ago when my husband, Jake, and I made a significant decision. Our daughter, Lily, who is three and autistic, needed more attention than what her daycare could provide. Her needs are complex, requiring constant care and support, and it became clear that one of us had to be with her full-time.
I won’t sugarcoat it — leaving my career behind was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. I miss the freedom of earning my own income and the satisfaction of a job well done. But here I am now, spending my days planning meals, cooking, and baking. I’ve found joy in these tasks, and experimenting in the kitchen has become my new creative outlet.
Our backyard has turned into a small garden oasis under my care, and I take care of most of the household chores. Jake does his fair share too; he’s actively involved in chores and parenting whenever he’s at home. We’ve always considered ourselves equals, rejecting traditional gender roles, or so I thought until last week.
It was a regular Thursday, and I was tidying up Jake’s home office while he was at work. It’s filled with tech gadgets and piles of paperwork, typical for someone in software development. His computer screen caught my eye — it was still on, casting a soft glow in the dim room. He usually left it on by accident, but what I saw next wasn’t accidental at all.
His Twitter feed was open, and I froze when I saw the hashtag #tradwife attached to a tweet. Confusion washed over me as I read the post. It glorified the joys of having a traditional wife who embraces her domestic duties. Attached was a photo of me, taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, looking every bit like a 1950s housewife. My stomach churned as I scrolled through more posts. There I was again, tending to the garden and reading to Lily, our faces thankfully obscured.
This was Jake’s account, and he had been crafting a whole narrative about our life that was far from reality. He portrayed me as a woman who relished her role as a homemaker, willingly sacrificing her career for aprons and storybooks. The truth of our situation — that this arrangement was a necessity for our daughter’s well-being — was nowhere to be seen.
I felt betrayed. Here was the man I’d loved and trusted for over a decade, sharing our life with strangers under a false pretense that felt foreign to me. It wasn’t just the lies about our relationship dynamics that hurt — it was also the realization that he was using these glimpses of our life to bolster some online persona.
I shut the computer down, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and bewilderment. All day, I grappled with my emotions, trying to comprehend why Jake would do this. Was he dissatisfied with our situation? Did he resent my decision to stay home? Or was it something deeper, a shift in how he perceived me now that I wasn’t contributing financially?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. His posts kept replaying in my mind, and eventually, I couldn’t ignore them any longer. I decided to call him and address everything head-on.
“Jake, we need to talk,” I finally said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He answered, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath, the weight of my discovery weighing heavily on me. “I saw your Twitter today…”
His expression fell, and he let out a long sigh, indicating he knew exactly what this conversation was about to entail. He started to respond, but I interrupted him.
“Calm down,” he said, dismissing it as “just harmless posting.” That was the final straw. I told him I wanted a divorce, called him out for his deceit, and ended the call.
Jake rushed home immediately. We argued, but with Lily’s strict schedule, I couldn’t let the conflict drag on. He pleaded with me to have a proper conversation after putting Lily to bed. Reluctantly, I agreed. That night, he showed me his phone, revealing that he had deleted the Twitter account. But the damage was already done.
A week passed, and my anger hadn’t subsided. This wasn’t a simple misunderstanding. It was a breach of trust. Jake attempted to explain, claiming it started as a joke, but he got carried away with the attention it garnered. But excuses weren’t enough.
Motivated by a mix of hurt and the need for justice, I decided to expose him. I took screenshots of his tweets and shared them on my Facebook page. I wanted our friends and family to know the truth. My post was straightforward: “Your husband belittles you in front of his friends behind your back. Sound familiar?”
The response was immediate. Our relatives were shocked, and the comments poured in. Jake was inundated with messages and calls. He left work early once more to beg for my forgiveness. He knelt, tears in his eyes, pleading that it was all just a “silly game.”
But I couldn’t let it go. The trust that bound us together was broken. It wasn’t just about a few misguided posts; it was about the respect and understanding we were supposed to have for each other. I told him I needed time and space to think and heal. I moved out with Lily to another apartment.
For six months, Jake begged for forgiveness. He sent messages, left voicemails, and made small gestures to show he was sorry. But sorry wasn’t enough. I told him that if he truly wanted to make amends, we needed to start anew. In my eyes, we were strangers now, and he had to court me like he did years ago when we first met.
So, we began again, slowly. We went on dates, starting with coffee and progressing to dinners. We talked a lot — about everything except the past. It was like rediscovering ourselves individually and as a couple. Jake was patient, perhaps realizing this was his last chance to salvage our once-loving relationship.
As I sit here now, reflecting on the past year, I realize how much I’ve changed. This betrayal forced me to reevaluate not only my marriage but also myself and my needs. I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t just about accepting an apology; it’s about feeling secure and valued again. It’s a gradual process, one that we’re both committed to, step by step.
What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Share your thoughts on Facebook.
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