I always knew my future mother-in-law, Linda, didn’t like me. She tolerated me only because Alex adored me, but she made it clear I wasn’t “the kind of woman” she wanted her son to marry. In her mind, Alex deserved someone wealthier, someone from a “better family,” someone—basically—who wasn’t me.
I tried to stay polite, tried to win her over, tried to keep peace for Alex’s sake. But nothing prepared me for what she did the day before our wedding. THE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING
It was supposed to be a calm day of final errands—double-checking decorations, dropping off the last-minute seating cards, making sure everything was in place.
Our wedding cake had already been delivered to Alex’s mom’s house because her place was closer to the venue. It was a gorgeous, handmade, three-tier lemon raspberry cake worth over $1,000. I’d saved for months to pay for it.
When I came back from errands that evening, I immediately knew something was wrong. The dining table was messy with plates, napkins, and crumbs. A LOT of crumbs.
And then I saw it. The cake box. Wide open.
Completely empty. Linda and her three friends sat around the living room like they were at a spa retreat, laughing and sipping tea. Their lips were stained with raspberry filling.
My heart sank. “Where’s the cake?”
Linda smirked like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh, that?
We ate it.”
I stared at her, stunned. “That was our wedding cake! The wedding is TOMORROW!”
She shrugged.
“It looked good, so we tried it. Honestly, it tasted too sweet. Overpriced too.
Who spends $1000 on cake? Oh, right—you.”
Her friends giggled. My throat tightened with tears.
“Alex and I saved for months for that. We need to replace it. You HAVE to pay for another one.”
Linda rolled her eyes.
“No way I’m paying for that disgusting thing. And you should be grateful. It wasn’t even that good.
Just like your taste… in everything.”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks—anger, humiliation, disbelief. I left the room before I said something I’d regret. But inside, something clicked.
This was the final straw. If Linda wanted to sabotage our wedding? Fine.
But I would teach her a lesson she would never forget. THE PLAN
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat in bed thinking about all the insults, the passive-aggressive comments, the little jabs she had thrown at me over the years.
Linda always cared about her reputation—how she looked in front of family, friends, neighbors. She wanted everything to seem perfect, polished, elegant. So that’s exactly where I would strike.
At 5 a.m., I got up, grabbed my phone, and called the bakery. I explained what happened and begged them to help. The baker sighed and said, “We can’t make another custom cake in time… but we can prepare something small if needed.”
I told him, “Forget the custom cake.
I don’t need replacement cake. I need a delivery.”
He agreed. And the plan was set.
THE WEDDING DAY
Guests filled the ceremony hall with soft music playing, everyone buzzing with excitement. Linda arrived in a shimmering gold dress, chin lifted like she owned the place. She avoided eye contact with me, likely confident she’d ruined my big day.
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