My MIL Pretended to Love Me but Called Me the Ugliest Daughter-in-Law behind My Back – I Taught Her a Lesson

For my birthday party at home, my mother-in-law decided to give a speech highlighting how much she loved me. Of course, I was surprised, because it wasn't like her. But later on, I overheard her true feelings about me. I couldn't let it slide, so I taught her a lesson.

It was my birthday, and my mother-in-law, Betty, decided to give a toast.

And, oh boy. You should have heard the wonderful things she was saying! She praised my cooking and dedication to the family and even mentioned how lucky her son was to have found such a loving wife.

But of course, my five sisters-in-law, who were standing around with their drinks, watched with envy.

"Emma, you have truly become the heart of this family," Betty said, raising her glass. "To Emma!"

"To Emma!" everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

For a birthday party at home, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. The platters of food, the music, and the overall company were great.

And Betty was playing her role perfectly, showering me with compliments and making sure everyone knew how much she "loved" me.

"I can't believe how perfect everything is," my friend Jenna said, nudging me to take a photo. "And to think you were worried about how everything was going to go! Betty seems to adore you."

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, forcing a smile. "It's nice to hear."

My mother-in-law always tried to go out of her way to be nice to me in front of other people. It was something that she had just adopted organically. I didn't understand the need for it.

Especially because we usually seemed to get along just fine.

But then, about 20 minutes later, I overheard a conversation that I really wish I hadn't.

I was in the bathroom when I heard voices through the open window.

"My dears," Betty said, standing on the porch, not realizing that the bathroom window was open and I could hear everything.

"Do you really think I said all of those things out of love? I can't stand that girl! If there were an award for the most disgusting daughter-in-law, Emma would win it without a doubt!"

Everyone laughed, but I was furious.

I peeped out from behind the bathroom curtain to see who Betty was talking to. Of course, it was the five sisters-in-law.

Betty, who had just been singing my praises, was now tearing me down behind my back.

"What is wrong with this old woman?" I asked myself as I washed my hands.

Well, if she wanted a fight, I was going to give her a fight.

I went into the study and logged onto the computer, ready to access the footage from the porch's security camera.

I looked for the timestamp and got Betty's real speech, sending it to my phone, ready to expose her.

I had always known that Betty wasn't straightforward in her behavior toward me. But I didn't think that she would be like this, a completely different person instead of the woman she pretended to be.

"It's showtime," I said, switching off the computer.

Walking into the backyard, where Jonathan, my husband, had set up for my birthday, Betty stopped talking to my mom and started smiling and hugging me.

"Emma, darling!" she said. "We were just talking about your baked Alaska and how wonderful you are," she gushed, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I smiled at her sweetly. I could listen to her pretense easier now, after having heard the truth. Betty had exposed herself.

"Everyone, come into the living room," I said. "I have a surprise for you!"

"What's the surprise?" my sister-in-law, Lisa, asked, curious.

"You'll see," I replied, smiling tightly.

Once everyone gathered in the living room, I started my own speech.

"Today, for my lovely mother-in-law, I have prepared a video of our happiest moments together!" I exclaimed.

Everyone seemed quite eager to see this lovely video. But of course, they had another thing coming to them.

"Oh, Emma, that's so thoughtful," Betty said, sitting down on the couch.

"Just you wait," I said.

I looked around the room, trying to see where my husband was, but I just couldn't lay my eyes on him.

I connected my phone to the TV and pressed play. Instead of the happy memories as promised, footage from our surveillance cameras started rolling.

There she was in all her glory:

Betty saying all those horrible things about me. The camera recorded both video and audio, so everyone heard exactly how much she "loved" me.

The entire room fell silent. My sisters-in-law stared in shock, and my friends were wide-eyed.

"How could you do this, Emma?" she exclaimed, trying to regain her composure. "This is all a misunderstanding!"

Finally, Jonathan stepped out from the crowd. He looked at his mother with a stern expression.

"Mom, I think it's best if you leave," he said firmly.

Naturally, I was shocked because Jonathan was a mama's boy, but now, he was standing up for me.

"Son, please," Betty pleaded, her voice shaking. "Let me explain."

"No, Mom," my husband said. "I heard your words loud and clear, and so did everyone else here."

Jonathan's tone left no room for argument. And with a huff, Betty gathered her things and left the party, humiliated.

"I'm sorry you had to endure that," Jonathan told me, kissing me.

Then, he turned to our guests and apologized to them.

"I'm so sorry you all had to see that. Apparently my mother chooses when to be decent, which is something I didn't know about before. I promise you, Emma, things will change."

"It's okay," I told my husband, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude toward him. "I'm just glad that the truth is out and in the open."

The guests slowly started to relax again, and soon after, the music was back on and the chatter got louder.

Later that evening, when everyone else had left and we were done cleaning up, Jonathan and I sat down to eat pieces of cake on the couch.

"Thank you for standing up for me," I said to Jonathan.

"I should have done it sooner," he replied, squeezing my hand. "You deserve so much better. I didn't know that she was like that."

"I have everything I need right here," I said, leaning into him. "As long as we have each other, we'll be fine."

The following day, Jonathan and I went over to Betty's house.

"Hello," she said uncertainly when she opened the door.

"Look, Mom," Jonathan said as he walked through the door. "We're here for you to apologize to Emma."

"I am sorry, Emma," she said earnestly. "I wasn't thinking."

"Why don't you like me?" I asked her, sitting down on the couch.

"It's not that I don't like you," Betty said, taking a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "It's just that I don't know you as well as the others. The other daughters-in-law have been around for a long time. You're still new to the family."

"That's not a reason, that's an excuse," my husband said.

"Then, get to know me, Betty," I said. "That's the only way we're going to get to know each other better."

My mother-in-law nodded, wiping her nose with the tissue.

"Fine," she said. "Let's start by you teaching me how to make your crumbed mushroom and creamy broccoli for lunch."

I smiled.

"Okay," I agreed. "Let's do it."

Jonathan took the TV remote and switched the TV on while we went into the kitchen.

I wasn't happy hearing what Betty thought of me, and as grateful as I was to my husband for standing up for me, I wanted to give Betty one more chance.

What would you have done?

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I had just set up my canvas and was ready to get my creative juices flowing.

I was on a tight deadline; there was an exhibit coming up and I needed to have eight pieces ready for it.

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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.