The Ultimate Betrayal: How I Tricked My Fake-Pregnant Sister-in-Law
The pounding on my front door was so loud I nearly dropped the plate I was washing. My kids, Michelle and Alan, looked up from their homework, eyes wide. Even my husband Dave set down his newspaper, frowning.
I wiped my hands and swung the door open—only to find my sister-in-law Sarah standing there, tears streaming down her face, a suitcase clutched in her trembling hands.
“Lisa, please! I have nowhere else to go!” she sobbed, her voice breaking.
My heart lurched. Sarah had always been dramatic, but this? This seemed real.
“Mark kicked me out,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I’m pregnant… and he doesn’t want the baby. He said horrible things. I can’t go back there!”
Pregnant? My stomach twisted. I glanced at Dave, who looked just as stunned.
“Sarah, come inside,” I said, pulling her in. She collapsed onto the couch, still crying.
“You can stay with us,” I told her, ignoring Dave’s subtle head shake. “Just until you get back on your feet.”
Sarah sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
The Lie Unfolds
At first, I felt sorry for her. She claimed she had terrible morning sickness, so I made her ginger tea, gave her the comfiest spot on the couch, and even let her hog the TV remote.
But then, things got weird.
“Mom, where’s my lunch?” Michelle asked one morning, digging through the fridge.
“It’s right—” I froze. The sandwich I’d packed for her was gone.
Sarah, lounging on the couch, didn’t even look up from her phone. “Oh, I ate it. The baby needed protein.”
Michelle’s face fell. “But that was mine!”
“Sarah,” I said carefully, “you could’ve asked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m eating for two here!”
By the second week, Sarah had taken over our living room like she owned it. Dirty dishes piled up, our groceries vanished overnight, and she somehow always had an excuse.
“Mom, Aunt Sarah ate all the spaghetti,” Alan said sadly one night, staring into an empty pot.
I marched into the living room. “Sarah, that was dinner for all of us!”
She sighed dramatically. “Lisa, cravings are real. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t understand lying about being hungry when my niece and nephew need to eat!”
She gasped, clutching her (totally flat) stomach. “How dare you accuse me of—”
“Enough!” Dave snapped. “Sarah, you’re taking advantage of us.”
She burst into fake tears. “You’re ganging up on a pregnant woman? Wow. Just wow.”
The Truth Comes Out
That night, I made a plan.
I bought a mini fridge for the kids’ room—with a lock. Sarah’s face when she saw it? Priceless.
“What the hell is that?” she hissed.
“A locked fridge,” I said sweetly. “For my kids’ food.”
“You’re treating me like a thief!”
“No, I’m treating you like someone who needs boundaries.”
She stormed off, slamming doors like a toddler.
But the real turning point? A chance meeting at the grocery store.
“Lisa!” Jennifer, Sarah’s old roommate, waved me down. “How’s Sarah’s pregnancy going?”
I blinked. “You know?”
Jennifer snorted. “Oh, please. She pulled the same stunt with me last year—fake pregnancy, fake drama, all to freeload. She’s not pregnant, Lisa. She never was.”
My blood ran cold.
The Revenge
I. Was. Furious.
So I got creative.
The next day, my friends arrived with baby clothes, diapers, even a stroller.
“Where should we put all this?” Maria asked, grinning.
“Right in Sarah’s nest,” I said loudly.
Sarah stumbled out of the bathroom, face pale. “What… is all this?”
“Baby gifts!” I beamed. “You’re going to be a mom soon—you need supplies!”
She stammered, “I—I don’t need this yet!”
“Nonsense!” I turned on a pregnancy documentary. “Did you schedule your ultrasound yet?”
Her eyes darted around like a trapped animal. “Not… yet.”
“Hmm. Strange.” I handed her a prenatal vitamin. “Take this. For the baby.”
Her hands shook.
I lived for it.
The Explosion
Sarah lasted three more days before she snapped.
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” she screamed, storming into the kitchen. “I’M NOT PREGNANT, OKAY? IT WAS A LIE!”
I turned slowly, wiping my hands. “I know.”
Her jaw dropped. “You… knew?”
“For days.”
“And you—you did all this to torture me?”
I smirked. “No. I did it to see how far you’d take the lie. And wow, Sarah, you really committed.”
She exploded. “I HATE YOU! YOU’RE A MONSTER!”
“Pack your bags,” I said calmly. “You’re leaving tonight.”
“WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO?”
“Not my problem.”
As she threw her things into her suitcase, I posted the truth on Facebook—with receipts.
Her phone blew up instantly.
“YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” she shrieked.
“No, you did that yourself.”
The Aftermath
The second she was gone, the house felt lighter.
Dave hugged me. “Any regrets?”
I looked at my kids, finally able to eat their own lunches in peace. “Not a single one.”
Sarah’s mom called later, apologizing. “She’s done this before,” she admitted. “I’m so sorry she dragged you into it.”
I hung up, smiling.
Because here’s the thing—kindness shouldn’t mean being a doormat.
And Sarah? She learned the hard way that if you lie to me, I’ll make sure the truth comes out… in the most entertaining way possible.
Game over. 😌