I always knew my future mother-in-law didn’t like me. From the moment Jacob introduced us, it was clear she didn’t think I was good enough for her son. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but over time, she made it obvious.
A serious middle-aged woman | Source: Pexels
“I just don’t see how someone with your background would fit in with our family,” she had said one afternoon, when Jacob wasn’t around. I could only stare back in shock, but I stayed quiet for Jacob’s sake.
When we started planning the wedding, it got worse. Everything I picked was wrong in her eyes. The cake was “too plain,” the guest list was “too long,” and she made it a point to criticize my dress every chance she got.
A woman planning her wedding | Source: Pexels
“Is that really what you’re going to wear?” she sneered when I showed her a picture of my gown. “It looks cheap. Jacob deserves better than this.”
It was exhausting, but I tried to ignore her comments. I loved Jacob, and I didn’t want to cause any problems. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to ruin my happiness. That’s when I came up with a plan—a harmless prank to put her in her place.
A sly woman | Source: Pexels
I hired a fortune teller for my bridal party. It was supposed to be lighthearted fun. I figured the fortune teller could reveal a few quirky, personal details about my mother-in-law to catch her off guard.
I didn’t expect anything serious to come out of it. Just a little fun, and maybe, just maybe, she’d lighten up.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
The bridal party was perfect. My best friends were there, laughing and sipping champagne. The air was full of excitement. The wedding was just a week away, and despite all the stress, I was starting to feel like everything was falling into place.
Then the fortune teller arrived.
A fortune teller | Source: Pexels
She wore a long, flowing dress with deep purple and gold accents. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, and her jewelry jingled as she moved. My friends whispered and giggled, excited for what was to come.
We gathered around in a circle, and she began by giving each of us a short reading. She talked about love, happiness, and the future. Everything was going exactly as planned.
A fortune teller giving a reading | Source: Pexels
But when she got to my future mother-in-law, things changed. She pointed directly at her, her face suddenly serious.
“You,” the fortune teller said, her voice low and commanding. “Your bag… it holds a secret.”
The room went silent. All the laughter and chatter stopped in an instant. My heart raced as I looked at her. This wasn’t part of the prank. What was she doing?
A fortune teller with a serious look | Source: Pexels
My future mother-in-law shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She forced a smile, but I could see the nervousness behind her eyes.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The fortune teller wasn’t swayed. She leaned in closer, her voice more intense. “There is something you’ve done… something you’ve hidden.”
A shocked elderly woman | Source: Pexels
Everyone’s eyes were on my mother-in-law now. She laughed, but it sounded forced.
“I have nothing to hide,” she said, her voice cracking just a little.
The fortune teller tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “It’s related to a wedding,” she continued. “There’s sabotage… something you’ve done to ruin it.”
A fortune teller talking to a woman | Source: Pexels
I froze. My stomach twisted as I looked between the fortune teller and my future mother-in-law. I didn’t know what to think. Was this still a joke? But the look on her face told me it wasn’t. She was scared.
“You’re lying,” my mother-in-law snapped, standing up quickly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to this nonsense.”
I stepped forward, my voice barely above a whisper. “What’s in the bag?” I asked.
A serious frowning woman | Source: Pexels
My future mother-in-law stood there, clutching her bag tightly, her face pale. The room was eerily quiet, everyone staring at her. My friends, who had been in on the prank, were now just as confused and concerned as I was.
“I don’t know what you think this is,” she said, her voice shaky but trying to sound confident. “This is ridiculous.”
An angry elderly woman | Source: Pexels
The fortune teller didn’t break her gaze. “You’ve done something to harm someone close to you,” she said, her voice low but certain. “It’s connected to a wedding… and it involves a dress.”
My heart stopped. A dress? My wedding dress?
I glanced at my friends, and their eyes were wide, just as stunned as I was. My mother-in-law’s hand tightened around the strap of her bag, her knuckles white.
A fortune teller holding a candle | Source: Pexels
“You’re lying!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I would never—”
“Then open the bag,” the fortune teller interrupted calmly. “If you have nothing to hide.”
My mother-in-law took a step back, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” she said. “This is all nonsense.”
But the tension was unbearable. I couldn’t take it anymore.
A hand clutching a bag | Source: Midjourney
“Show me,” I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling. “What’s in the bag, Ellen?”
She pulled the bag tighter against her chest, but before she could move, my friend Sarah reached out. In the scuffle, the bag slipped from Ellen’s grasp and tumbled to the floor, its contents spilling out in front of everyone.
A small sewing kit clattered across the floor, followed by something that made my stomach drop—a piece of lace. My lace. The exact lace from my wedding dress.
A piece of lace in a bag | Source: Midjourney
Gasps filled the room. I stood frozen, staring at the delicate piece of fabric on the floor, my mind racing. How did she get that? Why did she have it?
My voice cracked as I looked up at her. “What did you do?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.
Ellen’s face went ghostly white. She took a step back, her lips trembling. She looked at me, then at the lace, her eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered.
A crying middle-aged woman | Source: Pexels
The room was silent, every eye on her. No one moved.
I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. “Tell me the truth, Ellen. What did you do to my dress?”
She took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes, and finally, she spoke. “I… I didn’t want you to marry Jacob,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I thought if I could ruin the wedding, he might change his mind.”
A woman looking into the distance | Source: Pexels
Tears welled up in my eyes as her words hit me. I could feel my friends behind me, watching in shock. How could she do this? How could she try to ruin my wedding?
“I went to your fitting,” she continued, her voice shaking. “I snuck in after you left and cut a few threads. Just enough… just enough to make the dress fall apart when you walk down the aisle.”
A middle-aged woman cutting a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney
A wave of horror washed over me. I stared at her, unable to process what I was hearing. She had actually tried to destroy my wedding dress. For what? Because she didn’t think I was good enough for her son?
“Why?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “How could you do this to me?”
Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed into a chair. “I didn’t think it would go this far,” she sobbed. “I just wanted him to realize he could do better. I didn’t mean for it to… I didn’t mean for this.”
A woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
I shook my head, still in disbelief. The woman who was supposed to become my family, who was supposed to care about me, had done something so cruel, so hateful. And Jacob wasn’t even here to see it. He wasn’t here to defend me.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my mom. She had been watching the whole thing, quiet until now. But she wasn’t quiet anymore.
A serious angry woman | Source: Pexels
“How dare you,” my mom said, her voice steady but full of anger. She stepped in front of me, shielding me from Ellen’s sobbing form. “How dare you try to sabotage my daughter’s wedding. Do you know how much she loves Jacob? How much we’ve done to include you in all of this?”
Ellen looked up, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t—”
“No,” my mom cut her off, her voice sharp. “You’ve made your feelings clear. You don’t respect my daughter, and you don’t respect this family.”
A woman talking in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Ellen tried to speak again, but my mom wasn’t finished. “This wedding is about love and family, and if you can’t be a part of that, you don’t belong at the wedding.”
The room was dead silent. No one dared to move. Ellen just sat there, crying, but my mom wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
A sad woman with a tear running down her cheek | Source: Pexels
“You’re going to fix this,” my mom said, her voice firm. “You’re going to make things right. Or you’re not going to be there at all.”
Ellen nodded, her face streaked with tears. She knew she had no other choice.
I stood there, shaking, my mom’s words echoing in my mind. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but I knew one thing for sure—everything had changed.
A serious yet hopeful woman | Source: Midjourney
Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: For years, Rachel tolerated her mother-in-law’s passive-aggressive jabs, believing it was easier to avoid conflict. But when a cruel birthday “gift” crossed the line, she decided enough was enough and devised a subtle, yet devastating, revenge that left her mother-in-law humiliated and speechless.
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.