My new husband James and I had just finished Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ house. It was the kind of evening where the whole family was laughing, enjoying food, and spending time together. But after dessert, I excused myself to grab a few things from my old room upstairs.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I suddenly realized I needed a box to pack up some of my old things. I turned around to go back to the stairs—but then I froze. A conversation floated up to me from the living room. I could hear my mom’s voice, soft and quiet, but clear enough to make my stomach drop.
“James, once again, thank you for agreeing to marry her,” she said, her voice full of something I couldn’t quite place.
I stood still, shocked. My heart raced as I quietly stepped closer, trying to stay out of view.
Then James spoke. His voice sounded casual, like he was talking about something as simple as the weather.
“You know I would have NEVER married her if you hadn’t given me the…”
I couldn’t breathe. My stomach twisted. What was he talking about? What had my mom given him? And why?
My mom quickly cut him off, her voice sharp, panicked almost. “Shh! James! She might hear us.”
James sighed, his tone full of impatience. “I’m just saying, the money is nice and all that. But you didn’t need to go that far. The money’s nice, but living with her… It’s not exactly what I signed up for. I have to check on her every single time the house is too quiet. And I have to monitor everything she eats. Do you know how difficult that is?”
I could hardly breathe, my chest tightening with every word. What money? Why was he talking like this? Why was he making it sound like I was a burden?
My mom’s voice dropped even lower, almost desperate now. “I told you, she’s fragile. Nobody else would’ve… well, you know. Just be patient, James. It’s not forever. Soon, when she’s doing better at work, you can leave. She needs her confidence up first.”
James scoffed loudly. “It was like I was some kind of broken doll she’d handed off to be fixed.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. But don’t forget, Patricia, I expect the rest of the payment by Christmas. I’m not sticking around if you don’t hold up your end.”
I stumbled back into my old bedroom, the world spinning around me. My hands shook as I pressed my back against the wall, barely able to stand. My husband had been paid to marry me. By my own mother.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring at the posters on the wall. Everything felt so surreal. Every sweet memory I had with James—the flowers, the kind words, the promises he made—all of it now seemed like a cruel joke. He’d never loved me. He was just doing his job.
The next few weeks were a blur of anger, pain, and confusion. I couldn’t let them see how much their betrayal had hurt me. So, I pretended everything was fine while I secretly searched for answers.
I started going through James’ things when he worked late. It didn’t take long to find the truth. There, in his drawer, were the bank statements. My heart pounded as I read the familiar account numbers and saw the deposits from my mom’s account. The memos on the transactions sent a chill through me:
“For expenses.”
“First installment.”
“Final payment.”
My hands trembled as I pieced it all together. James wasn’t just in this for the money—he needed it. Badly. And my mom had paid him to marry me, probably to keep me from being alone.
In his emails, I found more. Conversations with his friends about gambling debts, maxed-out credit cards, and promises to pay back money. My mom had bailed him out, expecting him to keep up his end of the deal.
I couldn’t hold it together anymore. But instead of confronting them quietly, I decided to do something they’d never forget.
Christmas Eve came, and like always, my mom hosted our family dinner. Her house was filled with holiday cheer. The smell of cinnamon eggnog, the soft glow of Christmas lights, and the carols playing in the background made everything seem normal. But deep inside, I was shaking.
James and I arrived early, carrying gifts—one carefully wrapped, with a bow on top. But that wasn’t just any gift. Inside was the truth. The evidence. The proof that my mother had bought my marriage.
When dessert was served, I stood up. My heart raced as I held the gift. I could feel all eyes on me as I tried to keep my voice steady.
“Before we dive into the sweets,” I said, forcing a smile, “I want to give Mom something special.”
“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to,” my mom said with a smile. “You being here is all I need.”
“Oh, no,” I replied, my voice steady but my insides in turmoil. “You definitely deserve this one, Mom.”
She tore into the wrapping paper with excitement, not knowing what was coming. When she uncovered the stack of papers, her confusion quickly turned to panic. Her hands shook as she skimmed the first page, her face draining of color.
“Do you want to read it aloud, Mom?” I asked, my voice sharp and cold, every word hanging in the air like a challenge. “Or should I?”
The room went completely silent.
“I… I don’t understand. What is this?” my mom stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. “It’s a record of every payment you made to James,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “For marrying me.”
“Honey, I can explain,” James began, trying to speak, but I wasn’t having it.
“No,” I said, holding up my hand. “Save it. Both of you.”
My mom spoke up, despite my interruption. She looked pale, almost ghostly.
“Darling, I did it for you,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want you to be alone. After your father left me, I’ve lived with this loneliness. And you’re… you’re sickly, Claire. I did it for you, honey.”
“You didn’t do it for me!” I shot back, my voice shaking with anger. “You did it because you think I’m not good enough to find someone on my own. You wanted control, didn’t you? Well, guess what, Mom. You bought me a husband. And now, you’ve lost me.”
James tried to speak, but I didn’t want to hear him. “And as for you,” I said, my voice cold as ice, “I hope the money was worth it. Because you’re not getting another cent from me. My mother can keep paying you if she wants, but this marriage is over.”
With that, I grabbed my coat and stormed out, leaving them to choke on the mess of lies they’d created.
Months passed since that night. I filed for divorce. James didn’t contest it. It was all too clear to him now that I was done with him.
My relationship with my mom hasn’t been the same since. She’s sent me tearful texts, apologizing over and over, but I’m not ready to forgive her. Maybe I never will.
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