I always thought my mother-in-law’s passive-aggressive comments were bad. But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what I saw on national television. My whole body froze in shock. And what happened next? Well, let’s just say Charlene had it coming.
Charlene, my dear mother-in-law, has never liked me. It’s not just dislike—it’s an obsession. From the moment Holden, her golden boy, put a ring on my finger, she’s been determined to tear me down. Most of the time, it was subtle. Other times, not so much.
Like at family dinners. Every single time, without fail, she found a way to bring up Holden’s high school sweetheart, Sarah. Oh, Sarah this. Oh, Sarah that.
“Oh, Holden and Sarah were just perfect together,” she’d sigh dramatically, shooting me a pointed look. “Do you remember how she used to bake those adorable little pies for him?”
No, Charlene. I don’t remember, because I wasn’t there. Because Holden and I are married now.
But I always played nice. I’d smile so hard my cheeks hurt and say, “Oh, I’m sure Sarah was wonderful.” And when she “accidentally” called me Sarah? I’d just laugh it off. Totally fine. No problem at all.
Fast forward to a month ago. It was a lazy Saturday morning, and I was flipping through channels, enjoying my coffee, soaking in the rare moment of peace. Then, something on the screen made me stop mid-sip.
Charlene.
I blinked. Rubbed my eyes.
“No way,” I muttered, leaning in closer.
But there she was, my beloved MIL, sitting on a stage, talking to the host of one of those dramatic daytime talk shows where people air their dirty laundry for fifteen minutes of fame. She looked like she was about to drop some scandalous secret. And judging by the smug expression on her face, she was loving every second of it.
Curious—and a little terrified—I turned up the volume. And then, I nearly choked on my coffee.
“I just want a real wife for my son,” Charlene said, sighing as if this was a deep burden weighing on her soul. “Someone who can give him the life he deserves.”
My jaw dropped. Was she really doing this? On TV?
At first, I thought, Maybe she’s talking about someone else. Maybe another son I don’t know about. But no. The next words out of her mouth made my blood turn ice-cold.
“My son is a widower.”
A what?
A widower?
I was alive. Last I checked, I was very much breathing. But there she was, on national television, declaring me dead.
I sat up, my heart pounding. She wasn’t done yet.
“His late wife,” Charlene continued, putting on her best fake sad face, “was sweet, but she wasn’t a good match. She didn’t know how to take care of him the way a real wife should. I’ve been waiting for him to find someone… worthy of our family.”
My hands were shaking. My fake death was bad enough, but now she was saying I wasn’t good enough? That Holden needed a “replacement”? Like I was some expired milk she could toss out?
Charlene’s voice got more dramatic. “He deserves a woman who can give him the life he truly wants. A family. Children. I’m just trying to help him move on.”
MOVE ON?
I had to pause the TV. I couldn’t process what I was watching. Then, I grabbed my phone and hit record. There was no way Holden wouldn’t see this.
That night, when Holden came home, I didn’t even say hello. I just shoved my phone in his face and pressed play.
His face went from confusion to horror to full-blown rage. “What the hell is this?!”
“Oh, just your mom announcing my death on TV so she can go wife shopping for you,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “No big deal.”
“She did WHAT?” Holden shouted.
I folded my arms. “We’re going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.”
And that’s when the plan was born.
The next morning, Holden picked up his phone, took a deep breath, and dialed Charlene. When she answered, he put on the most devastated voice I’d ever heard.
“Mom… I have terrible news.”
There was a pause. Then Charlene’s voice, sharp with worry. “Holden? What happened?”
Holden sniffled, making it sound like he was barely holding it together. “You were right, Mom. Something awful happened to my wife. She… she’s gone.”
Silence. Then a sharp gasp. “No! Holden, no! What do you mean?!”
“It just… happened so suddenly,” Holden continued. “You said she wasn’t the right match, and now… well, she’s gone.”
Charlene wailed. “Oh, God! This is all my fault! I never meant for—”
“Mom,” Holden interrupted, “I need you to come over. Now. Please.”
“I’m coming! I’m coming right now!”
The call ended.
Holden and I locked eyes. He smirked. “She bought it.”
I sipped my tea, feeling completely relaxed. “Of course she did. Let’s see how she handles the plot twist.”
An hour later, the front door slammed open. Charlene burst in, her face streaked with mascara, eyes wild.
“Where is she?! What happened?!” she shrieked, scanning the room, expecting to find me laid out in a coffin.
Instead, there I was, on the couch, sipping tea and scrolling through my phone like it was just another lazy morning.
Charlene stopped dead. The color drained from her face.
I raised my teacup. “Morning, Charlene. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but… you—”
Holden stood, his face stone cold. “You thought your little ‘widow’ stunt would make her disappear?” His voice was sharp as a blade.
Charlene’s lips trembled. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean for what?” Holden snapped. “For me to think my wife was dead? To go on TV and lie?”
“I was just trying to help!” Charlene sobbed. “You deserve better!”
“No,” Holden said firmly. “I deserve a mother who respects me. If you can’t do that, we’re done.”
Charlene’s face crumpled. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I understand,” Holden cut in. “You wanted to control me. But guess what? You don’t get to decide my life. I do.”
She tried to speak, but Holden silenced her with a glare. “If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll be the one going on TV… looking for a new mother.”
Charlene’s face turned ghostly pale. She realized just how badly she had messed up.
Without another word, she turned and ran out, her sobs echoing down the hall.
I let out a low whistle. “Well, that was… something.”
Holden rubbed his temples. “I can’t believe she did that.”
I grinned. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
He chuckled. “Maybe next time, we’ll throw a real funeral. For her delusions.”
