Our 10th wedding anniversary trip was supposed to be about reconnecting and romance. Instead, it turned into a bizarre nightmare when my mother-in-law decided she couldn’t let her “precious son” out of her sight. And that wasn’t even the worst part.
You see, Patrick’s mom has always had a knack for inserting herself where she doesn’t belong. But when she barged into our anniversary suite and claimed it for herself, I knew I couldn’t let this slide.
I just had to figure out how to make her pay for her antics without ruining my marriage.
A woman looking at her mother-in-law | Source: Midjourney
So, my husband and I recently celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary.
We planned a weeklong trip to a luxury resort, and it was our first real getaway since our son was born five years ago. The idea was simple. Unwind, reconnect, and maybe reignite a little romance. I’d been looking forward to it for months.
That is, until my mother-in-law, Victoria, inserted herself into our plans.
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
From the start, it was clear she saw herself as the third partner in our marriage.
At our wedding, she hijacked our first dance, taking Patrick’s hand before I had the chance. Since then, she’s made a habit of sidelining me at every opportunity. She made sure she was the center of attention on every occasion whether it was a birthday or a holiday.
When Patrick and I mentioned our anniversary trip, she immediately chimed in with her suggestion.
“Why don’t I come along?” she asked. “I could watch the little one while you two have some alone time.”
A woman talking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Alone time? With her hovering? No thanks.
Patrick, ever the peacemaker, tried to frame it as a win-win.
“Think about it, Anna. She’ll take care of our son during the day, and we’ll still have the evenings to ourselves.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. “Fine. But she’s staying in her own room. I’m not sharing my suite.”
“Oh, of course!” she assured me, her smile a little too wide. “I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”
A woman in her son’s house | Source: Midjourney
Fast forward to the day we arrived at the resort.
As we checked in, Victoria eyed the staff with that judgmental air she always carried. Her nose wrinkled slightly when she saw her room key. It had the shower icon on it, while ours had the bath icon.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.
She sighed dramatically.
“Oh, nothing…” she began. “It’s just that I really dislike showers. My bones need a good soak in a tub.”
My eyes narrowed.
The suite Patrick and I had booked, complete with a king-sized bed and a luxurious bathtub, was clearly the target of her complaint.
A ceramic bathtub | Source: Unsplash
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, she marched toward the bellhop, snatched our suite key, and headed straight for the elevator.
“Mom, wait!” Patrick called, but she didn’t stop.
The poor bellhop barely had time to keep up with her as she barreled down the hallway.
We followed her to the suite, and by the time we arrived, she was already unpacking her things. She tossed her bag onto the bed, fluffed the pillows, and smiled at me like a cat that had just caught a mouse.
A woman standing in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
“This will do nicely,” she announced. Then, turning to me, she added with a saccharine tone, “You can stay in the other room with the child, and I’ll stay here with my son.”
Wait, what? Did I hear that right?
I looked at Patrick, expecting him to say something. But he just stood there, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Mom, come on…”
“Oh, don’t be difficult, dear,” she said, brushing him off. “We’re family. This is what families do.”
A woman smiling in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
Her message was loud and clear. I was the outsider. The third wheel.
And the “I need a bath” excuse? It was just a smokescreen to take my anniversary suite right out from under me.
I stared at Patrick, waiting for him to tell his mom she was being completely out of line. I mean, who demands to share a hotel room with their grown son on his anniversary trip?
But instead of standing up to her, Patrick just shrugged.
A man standing near a window | Source: Midjourney
“It’s just for sleeping,” he mumbled. “We’ll still do the rest of the trip together. Let’s not make it a big deal.”
Not make it a big deal? I wanted to scream. But I plastered on my best fake smile instead.
“Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable,” I said sweetly, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Victoria, oblivious to my tone, beamed. “I knew you’d understand, Anna. You’re such a good wife.”
A woman talking to her daughter-in-law in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
Inside, I was fuming.
This was supposed to be our anniversary trip, a chance for us to reconnect after years of juggling work, parenthood, and everything in between. I wasn’t about to let her turn me into the third wheel on my own vacation.
If she wanted to act like the queen of the resort, fine. I had a plan brewing, and I knew she wouldn’t see it coming.
The next morning, I acted like I was completely fine with the new sleeping arrangements.
A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Over breakfast, I smiled, nodded, and let Victoria ramble on about how “thoughtful” Patrick was for including her on the trip.
“I just love spending time with my son,” she said, patting his hand. “It’s so rare these days.”
Patrick gave me an apologetic glance, but I waved it off.
“No worries,” I said. “Actually, I’ve got a surprise for you both.”
Victoria’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “A surprise?”
A woman sitting for breakfast in a hotel | Source: Midjourney
“Yep,” I nodded. “I’ve booked a romantic couples’ photoshoot at the resort this morning. I thought it would be a great way to capture some memories.”
Patrick frowned. “A couples’ photoshoot?”
“You’ll love it,” I said, keeping my expression innocent. “I talked to the resort staff last night, and they made all the arrangements. You and Mom are going to look great together.”
Victoria clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, how lovely! Patrick, isn’t this sweet of Anna?”
A woman smiling while talking to her son | Source: Midjourney
Patrick didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t protest. He was still in that awkward middle ground where he didn’t want to upset his mom or me. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for.
When they arrived at the photoshoot, the photographer greeted them with a big, cheerful smile. “Ah, here you are! We’re ready for your session.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “Wait, no—”
“Oh, don’t be modest!” the photographer interrupted. “You two look like such a lovely couple.”
A person holding a camera | Source: Unsplash
I watched from a distance as the photographer posed them by the fountain, gushing over their “chemistry” and “love story.” Patrick looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, while Victoria basked in the attention.
I could barely hold back my laughter. This was just the beginning.
The next morning, Patrick and Victoria headed to what they thought would be a casual resort activity. Little did they know, I’d signed them up for an exclusive couples’ tango class.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
The instructor, Marco, greeted them with dramatic flair. “Welcome to the dance of love!”
“Wait, what?” Patrick asked as his eyes widened in horror.
Victoria clasped her hands in delight. “Oh, Patrick, this is so nice! I’ve always wanted to learn tango.”
I lounged nearby, pretending not to notice as Patrick gave me a desperate look. I just sipped my coffee and waved.
A woman holding a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels
“Now,” Marco began, “tango is about connection! Mr. Patrick, place your hand on your wife’s waist and gaze into her eyes. The soul must speak through the dance.”
Patrick looked ready to bolt. “She’s not my—”
“No excuses! Dance is truth!” Marco declared, clapping his hands.
Victoria leaned in, practically giddy. “Come on, Patrick. Let’s show them what we’ve got!”
Reluctantly, Patrick placed his hand on her waist and shuffled through the steps as Marco barked instructions. Every few seconds, Patrick tripped or stepped on Victoria’s foot.
I couldn’t hold back my laughter as I watched his misery unfold.
A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Unsplash
“More passion!” Marco exclaimed. “The woman must feel the fire in her partner’s gaze!”
I saw Patrick muttered something under his breath that I’m sure wasn’t appropriate.
By the end of the class, Victoria was beaming.
“That was wonderful!” she exclaimed. “We should take dance lessons back home.”
Patrick groaned. “I think I’ve had enough tango for a lifetime.”
But the day wasn’t over yet.
That evening, I sent them off to the resort’s signature sunset dinner cruise. The staff pulled out all the stops, complete with a violinist, rose petals, and a candlelit table on the deck.
A close-up shot of cutlery on a table | Source: Unsplash
As they boarded, the captain greeted them warmly. “Welcome aboard! We’ve prepared the most romantic table for you two lovebirds.”
Patrick looked like he wanted to jump overboard. “Uh, we’re not—”
Victoria waved regally, basking in the attention. “Thank you! This is simply delightful.”
I waved at them from the dock.
“Bon voyage!” I called out with a grin.
Patrick’s face turned beet red. He glanced back at me, clearly catching on that I was behind all of this.
The cruise lasted two hours, and by the time they returned, Patrick was done.
A man standing in a hotel lobby | Source: Midjourney
He marched over to me the second Victoria disappeared into her room.
“What the hell is going on?” he hissed, his face red with embarrassment. “Why does everyone think we’re a couple?”
I blinked innocently. “Oh, I have no idea. I guess the staff must’ve misunderstood when I said it was our anniversary trip. I just wanted to make sure your mom had a good time, since she insisted on coming.”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Anna… I messed up, didn’t I?”
I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think?”
A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
“I should’ve told her no,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I thought it would be easier to let her come along. I didn’t realize how ridiculous it would get.”
“Well,” I said, taking a sip of my champagne, “now you know.”
The next morning, as we packed to leave, Patrick was tripping over himself to apologize. “I’ll never let her interfere like this again. Next time, we’re hiring a nanny.”
“Sounds perfect,” I replied with a satisfied smile.
A woman smiling while looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
Victoria, oblivious to the chaos she’d caused, declared it the best vacation ever.
So, what did I learn from this? It’s that sometimes, you don’t need to raise your voice to make a point. You just need a little creativity to teach a lesson that won’t be forgotten.
Do you agree?
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.
I Discovered My Husband on Tinder and Decided to Catfish Him with a Fake Profile — He Believes He’s Being Unfaithful, but It’s All Part of My Scheme for Payback
Finally, his profile came up, with him smiling that same smile that had once made me fall in love. I took a deep breath as I swiped right. Fortunately, we matched right away. GAME ON!
The first step was to build a connection. I knew everything about Dexter: his favorite movie (“The Godfather”), his favorite whiskey (Glenfiddich), and even his secret love for 80s pop music. Using Leah’s profile, I mirrored his interests and crafted a persona that would be irresistible to him.
I made sure to mention my love for “The Godfather” in my bio and put up a picture of Leah holding a glass of Glenfiddich. I knew exactly how to pull him in. We started chatting, and he took the bait. Our conversations were filled with flirty banter and deep talks about life.
“Wow, you love ‘The Godfather’ too?” Dexter messaged. “It’s my all-time favorite movie.”
I replied as Leah, “Yes, it’s a masterpiece! And Glenfiddich is my go-to drink while watching it. What about you?”
“Same here,” he wrote back. “Nothing beats a good movie and a great whiskey.”
He told Leah about his dreams and fears, things he hadn’t shared with me in years. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m stuck in a rut,” he confided one evening. “I have all these plans, but I can’t seem to make them happen.”
“I’m here for you,” I typed. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Every evening, I’d sit on the couch next to him, pretending to scroll through my phone while he texted Leah. It was surreal, living under the same roof and harboring so many secrets. I’d glance at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as he smiled at his phone, completely engrossed in his messages to Leah.
After a few weeks of daily chats, I knew he was hooked. It was time for phase two: gaining his trust. I started hinting at financial troubles, weaving tales of sudden car repairs and unexpected medical bills.
Over the next few days, I continued to spin stories of desperation to Dexter through Leah’s account. He was eager to help, wanting to be her knight in shining armor. It didn’t take long for him to start transferring money to the account I had set up.
“I don’t ever want you to feel alone, Leah. You can always count on me,” he texted Leah one day while sitting right next to me. “Remember, I’m only a message away.”
This Dexter that I had come to know as Leah was someone I didn’t recognize as Phoebe. It pained me to continue the game, but I knew I had to keep going.
Each sob story I fed him made him more determined to save this imaginary woman. Living this double life was exhausting but thrilling. Every day, I played the devoted wife, making breakfast for our kids and chatting with Dexter about his day at work.
Every night, I transformed into Leah, the damsel in distress who had him wrapped around her finger. “Dex, I don’t know how to thank you enough,” I texted. “You’ve been my rock through all of this.”
“I just want to see you happy,” he responded. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I watched as he fell deeper into the trap, blinded by his infatuation and guilt. He was constantly checking his phone, eager for Leah’s messages, completely unaware of the truth that lay just beneath the surface.
The third step was all about increasing the stakes. With his trust secured, I began to ask for larger amounts, weaving elaborate stories that played on his desire to be a hero. One evening, I texted him as Leah, “Dex, I don’t know what to do. My car broke down, and the repair costs are way more than I can afford. I’m so scared I’ll lose my job if I can’t get to work.”
He replied almost instantly, “Don’t worry, Leah. I’ll take care of it. How much do you need?”
“About $1,500,” I wrote back, holding my breath.
“Consider it done,” he replied, and minutes later, the money was in my account.
Each transaction brought me closer to my goal. I asked for help with rent and then “emergency” medical procedures for a sick family member. Dexter was more than willing to help, convinced he was the hero Leah needed. What he didn’t realize was that he was funding my escape.
While he was distracted by his affair, I meticulously planned my departure. I found a new place to live, made arrangements for the kids, and discreetly packed our essentials.
Every day, I gathered a little more evidence of his infidelity and financial transactions, making sure I had enough to protect myself if he tried to contest anything later. I took screenshots of our chats, saved copies of bank statements, and even recorded a few of our conversations where he talked about his “true feelings” for Leah.
“Leah, I feel like I can be honest with you,” he wrote one evening. “I’ve never felt this way before. You understand me in a way no one else does.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I replied, heart pounding. “I care about you a lot, Dex.”
“I care about you too,” he responded. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we could be together for real. I know it sounds crazy, but I think I might be falling for you.”
Reading his confession, I felt a mix of anger and satisfaction. I saved the conversation, knowing it would be crucial later. He had no idea that his heartfelt messages were sealing his fate.
The final step was to reveal my plan. I knew the perfect way to do it. I sent him a final message from the fake account, arranging a meet-up at a fancy restaurant.
“Dex, I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I think it’s time we finally meet in person. How about dinner at The Grand at 8 p.m. this Friday?”
He replied within seconds, “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Leah. I’ll be there.”
On the day of the meeting, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it.
I dressed in my best outfit, a simple yet elegant black dress that Dexter always said was his favorite. I wanted to look my best when I confronted him. I arrived at The Grand a bit early and took a seat at a quiet corner table where I could see the entrance clearly.
I ordered a glass of wine and sat there, watching the clock tick closer to 8 p.m. Finally, Dexter walked in, looking around eagerly. He was wearing the suit I had bought him for our anniversary a few years ago. He looked nervous but excited, completely unaware of what was about to happen.
As he scanned the room, I stood up and walked over to him. “Dexter,” I said, my voice steady.
He turned, his eyes widening in shock. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, holding up a folder. “But I think you know.”
He looked at the folder, confusion and panic mixing on his face. “What’s that?”
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, guiding him to the table I had been sitting at. He followed, still looking dazed.
Once we were seated, I placed the folder in front of him. “Open it,” I said.
With shaking hands, he opened the folder and began to go through the contents. Inside were screenshots of our conversations, evidence of his infidelity, and a detailed list of all the money he had sent to Leah’s account—my account. His face turned pale as he realized he had been played.
“I knew all along,” I said calmly, watching him. “This was my way of getting back at you and securing my freedom. The money you sent to your ‘lover’ will help me and the kids start a new life away from you.”
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and anger. “Phoebe, I can explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I cut him off. “You betrayed me, Dexter. You made vows to me, and you broke them. Now, you’re going to face the consequences.”
He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, realizing the evidence was undeniable. There was nothing he could say to make it better or take back what he had done.
I stood up, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I’m leaving, Dexter. Don’t try to find us, and don’t think you can contest anything. I have all the evidence I need to make sure you don’t.”
He sat there, stunned, as I walked out of the restaurant. I felt a strange sense of satisfaction and freedom as I left him behind. That evening, I moved into our new home, taking the kids with me. The money I had accumulated ensured we were comfortable and had a fresh start.
The new place was cozy, nothing extravagant but perfect for us. The kids were a bit confused at first, but I explained it was a new adventure. They were excited about their new rooms, and I felt a sense of relief knowing we were safe and away from Dexter’s deceit.
Over the next few days, I settled into our new life. I enrolled the kids in a new school and started looking for a job. With the money Dexter had unwittingly provided, we were stable for the time being. I even found myself smiling more, feeling lighter than I had in years.
One evening, as I was tucking the kids into bed, my daughter looked up at me and said, “Mom, are we going to be okay?”
I smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to be just fine.”
As I sat in the living room later, sipping a cup of tea, I reflected on everything that had happened. Revenge is best served cold, and Dexter learned that the hard way. He thought he was cheating, but he was just falling into my trap. Now, I am free, financially secure, and ready to move forward without him.
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