Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
My mother-in-law coddled her son to an absurd degree. Not only did she constantly compete with me for his affection, but she also treated my husband like a replacement for her late spouse.
Whenever there was thunder, my husband had to stay by her side. Every day after work, he had to bring her a delicate little pastry.
If he didn't, she’d pout and whine, "Waaah, but I want it~"
I fought with Carter over this countless times, but he always acted like it was completely normal.
"She’s my biological mother! My dad died when I was little, and she sacrificed everything to raise me alone. I’m just being a good son!"
"Besides, my mom is your mom now too. You should be doing everything you can to make her happy!"
I was furious, determined to see just how far they could push it.
Until the day I saw her walking around the house in nothing but skimpy lingerie right in front of him.
I laughed bitterly. Oh, so that’s how they wanted to play it?
Why the hell did he even get married? Those two should just stay locked together for life!
On our wedding night, I was wearing a silk slip dress, getting ready to share a glass of wine with Carter.
Suddenly, an urgent knocking rattled our bedroom door, followed by a tearful, delicate whimper.
"Carter, baby... there's thunder outside. Mommy's scared."
Carter’s hand shook, almost spilling his wine.
Almost by reflex, he pushed me aside and bolted to the door.
Standing outside was my mother-in-law, Eleanor. She wore a sheer, semi-transparent lace nightgown, clutching a pillow with tears brimming in her eyes, looking utterly helpless.
Even in her fifties, she maintained herself so well she could pass for an attractive woman in her early thirties.
Carter’s eyes flooded with heartbreak. He pulled her into his arms.
"Mom, don't be scared. Your son is right here."
Eleanor shrank against his chest, casting a smug, provocative glance at me. Her voice remained sweet and frail:
"Did I interrupt you two? Maybe I should just go back to my room and shiver alone under the covers..."
Carter panicked instantly.
"What are you saying? You're my mother. No one in this world is more important than you."
I watched the scene coldly, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my wineglass.
"Since she's so terrified of a little thunder, why don't you sleep with her, Carter?"
I set down the glass and turned toward the guest room.
Carter grabbed my arm, his brow furrowed in irritation.
"Chloe, are you seriously jealous over this? She’s an elder! Why are you being so immature?"
Eleanor chimed in, though her hand was busy clutching Carter’s collar, tracing small circles on his chest.
"Chloe, please don't be mad. I just wanted Carter to comfort me... just like when he was a little boy."
Just like when he was a little boy?
Watching her fingers dance over his chest, a wave of nausea washed over me.
"Fine. I’ll leave the room to you two."
I yanked my arm from Carter's grip, marched straight into the guest room, and locked the door behind me.
From outside came Carter’s muffled grumble: "Mom, look at her. What a temper."
Eleanor’s soothing voice drifted through: "It's okay, sweetheart. Chloe grew up as a pampered princess. It's only natural she's a bit spoiled. Mommy doesn't blame her. I'll just sleep right here beside you tonight to keep you safe."
Through the wooden door, I heard every single word.
That night, listening to the TV chatter and the flirty giggles drifting from our master bedroom, my heart turned to ice.
Turns out, I hadn't married a man. I had become the third wheel in a twisted mother-son roleplay.
The next morning, noise in the living room woke me up.
Stepping out, I found Carter sitting at the dining table, with Eleanor perched squarely on his lap.
Yes. Sitting directly on his lap.
She was peeling a grape, feeding it straight to his mouth: "Open wide, Carter. Say ahhh~"
Carter savored it with pure delight, casually wrapping his arm around her waist.
When they saw me emerge, neither showed the slightest hint of shame.
Instead, Eleanor snuggled deeper into Carter’s embrace, purring playfully:
"Oh, Chloe, you’re up! Come have breakfast. Mommy made Carter his favorite breakfast with love."
Two breakfasts sat on the table.
One was an exquisite gourmet bacon sandwich with a tall glass of fresh milk, placed right in front of Carter.
The other was a bowl of leftover bland oatmeal and limp pickles, shoved in front of my seat.
I laughed out of sheer disbelief. Pulling out a chair, I sat down, reached straight across the table, and grabbed Carter’s sandwich.
Carter scowled. "Chloe, that's mine."
I took a huge bite, chewing slowly.
"I'm your wife. What's wrong with sharing a bite? Aren't you always preaching about showing affection?"
Eleanor’s face fell, her eyes welling with instant tears.
"Chloe, that’s Carter’s favorite bacon sandwich. How could you just snatch it from him? If you wanted some, I could have made you one. Why must you be so overbearing?"
Carter couldn't bear to see his precious mother wronged. He slammed his hand against the table.
"Chloe! Apologize to Mom right now! It’s just a sandwich! Is this really necessary?"
I swallowed the last bite and pulled a napkin to dab my lips.
"It isn't. So why are you screaming at me over a sandwich?"
"And Eleanor, Carter is twenty-six, not six. Has he even been weaned yet? Why are you sitting on his lap?"
"Anyone watching would think you're an escort at an upscale club servicing her sugar daddy."
The room fell dead silent.
Eleanor’s face shifted through shades of red, green, and white. Then she covered her face and wailed:
"Carter! Did you hear what she called me?! She’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this anymore!"
Carter shot up, raising his hand to strike me.
I tilted my chin up, glaring at him with icy disdain.
"Lay a finger on me and see what happens. I paid the down payment on this house. My name is the only one on the deed. If you dare touch me, you get the hell out of here right now!"
Carter’s hand froze in midair, his face turning the color of bruised eggplant.
Eleanor instantly stopped crying, staring at me in sheer shock, as if seeing who I really was for the very first time.After that morning blowup, Carter gave me the silent treatment all day.
When I returned home from work that evening, the living room was piled high with luxury shopping bags.
Eleanor was holding a skimpy red lace slip dress against her body, posing in front of Carter.
"Carter, does this look good on me? Does it show off Mommy's curves?"
The dress was scandalously tiny, something no respectable mother-in-law should ever wear.
Yet Carter couldn't take his eyes off her, nodding eagerly:
"Stunning. You look gorgeous in everything, Mom. You’ve got way more charm than those young girls."
Catching sight of me, Eleanor smugly waved a bag in the air.
"Chloe, you're back? Carter took me shopping today. Look at all the beautiful clothes he bought me!"
"Oh, Carter said your style is so dull and rigid. Unlike me—everything I wear makes me look so youthful."
I glanced at the shopping bags littering the floor. Chanel, Gucci, Dior. At least ten grand easily.
Carter had the debit card linked to my salary account—the one we agreed was meant for our future baby fund.
I turned a cold gaze toward Carter. "Where did you get that kind of money?"
Carter shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes. "I... I got an advance on my paycheck."
"Bullshit!" I cut right through his lie. "Your paycheck wouldn't cover the sales tax on that pile. You used my card, didn't you?"
Eleanor instantly shielded Carter, completely brazen:
"I told him to swipe it! So what? I'm his mother! It’s only natural for a son to spend money on his mom! As his wife, not only do you refuse to buy me anything, but you also want to stop Carter from honoring his mother?"
"Honoring your mother?" I scoffed, kicking a bag aside.
"Does being a devoted son require buying erotic lingerie? Who the hell are you planning to wear that for? You're just desperate to act like a twenty-year-old seductress!"
Eleanor shrieked, "Chloe! You insolent shrew!"
She threw herself into Carter's chest, sobbing:
"Carter, look at her! She’s attacking me! She’s actually insulting me like this!"
Carter rubbed her back tenderly, glaring at me with venom.
"Chloe, you've crossed the line! The money in that account is marital property. What's wrong with me spending a little on my mom? Can't you stop being so damn petty and calculative?"
"Marital property?" I pulled out my phone and dialed customer service on speaker.
"That is my personal salary account. You only knew the PIN because I trusted you. Since you're so generous, let's settle the score right now."
Right in front of their eyes, I reported the card stolen and froze the account.
"Starting today, not a single cent of my money will ever flow into either of your pockets."
Carter’s face went pale. "Chloe, are you insane?! How are we supposed to live?!"
"How you survive is your problem."
I turned toward my bedroom and slammed the door shut. "If you're so desperate to play the devoted son, go sell a kidney to pay for her!"With the card frozen, Eleanor stayed quiet for two days.
But only two days.
On Friday evening, my company hosted an important gala, and as a department head, my attendance was mandatory.
I had specially picked out a stunning black backless gown and done my makeup meticulously.
The moment I stepped out of my bedroom, I froze. Eleanor was standing in front of the full-length mirror, posing and preening in my designer gown.
The backup outfit I had prepared was thrown on the floor, covered in dirty shoe prints.
Carter stood beside her, utterly entranced. "Mom, that dress looks like it was custom-made for you. You're gorgeous."
Blood rushed to my head. I stormed over and grabbed the fabric. "Eleanor! Take it off right now!"
Eleanor jumped, scurrying behind Carter like a startled kitten.
"Chloe, why are you screaming? I just thought it looked pretty and wanted to try it on!"
"Try it on? Did you ask for my permission? That is my dress for tonight's gala!"
Carter frowned. "It's just a dress! If Mom likes it, you should just give it to her. Honestly, you don't even wear it half as well as she does."
I stared at the man in sheer disbelief, my brain buzzing with rage.
"Carter, are you blind? That is a backless gown! She is your mother! What kind of sick game are you two playing?!"
Eleanor bit her lip, playing the pitiful victim:
"Chloe, are you shaming me for being old? Carter says I look like his sister, not an old woman."
"Besides, there will be so many men at that gala. Wearing something so revealing... who are you trying to seduce? I'm doing you a favor, saving you from unwanted attention."
As she spoke, she deliberately pushed her chest forward.
I was so furious I ended up laughing. Grabbing a pair of heavy fabric shears off the counter, I stepped forward.
"Ahhh! She’s going to kill me!" Eleanor screeched, scrambling backward.
Ignoring her, I grabbed the backup dress on the floor and shredded it to pieces right before their eyes.
"Since you love wearing other people's clothes so much, go ahead and keep it. But word of advice: that waistline is tight. Try not to pop those cheap silicone implants of yours!"
With that, I changed into a sharp tailored business suit and slammed the front door behind me.
Behind me, Carter’s voice was still screaming: "Chloe! You're completely psychotic!"
At the gala, despite my business suit looking out of place among the evening gowns, my sharp professionalism helped me close two massive enterprise deals.
Meanwhile, my phone kept buzzing with notifications.
Carter had posted on Ins.
In the photos, Eleanor was wearing my designer gown, clinging to Carter’s arm at a greasy late-night food stand eating cheap street barbecue.
The caption read: "[This is what real life is about. No one understands me like my mom.]"
The comments from our mutual friends were blowing up.
[Wait, that’s your mom? Her body is insane?]
[Carter, dude, isn’t this too much? Isn’t that your wife’s dress?]
I stared coldly at the screen, gave the post a like, and dropped a comment:
"[You can keep the dress. After all, secondhand rags belong with a secondhand man. A match made in heaven.]"After that night, Carter and I fell into a bitter cold war.
Eleanor, on the other hand, strutted around like a triumphant rooster, finding new ways every single day to stake her claim over the house.
She even swapped out all my high-end skincare products for her cheap, sketchy brands, declaring:
"Those luxury brands are loaded with harsh chemicals. They ruin your skin. Mommy is doing this for your own good."
I didn't even bother arguing. I tossed everything straight into the trash and ordered replacements online.
That weekend, I came down with a raging fever, lying in bed weak and shivering.
Instead of checking on me, Carter was summoned into the kitchen by Eleanor's shrill cry.
"Carter! Mommy cut her finger with the knife! It hurts so bad!"
Carter’s panicked voice echoed through the hallway: "Quick, Mom, let me see! You're bleeding! Come on, we're going to the ER right now!"
Supporting myself against the wall, I dragged my shaking body out. Eleanor’s finger had nothing more than a microscopic scratch—barely a speck of dried blood.
Yet Carter was acting like the sky was falling, scooping her up in his arms to rush out.
Leaning against the doorframe, I whispered weakly, "Carter, I have a 102-degree fever. Can you drop me off at urgent care on your way?"
Carter stopped, turning his head. His eyes were dripping with disgust and impatience.
"Chloe, stop faking it, will you? It’s just a fever! Take some Tylenol and sleep it off! Mom has an open wound! What if it gets infected?!"
Eleanor nestled in his arms, whispering feebly:
"Carter, don't worry about me... take Chloe first. She's a fragile princess who can't handle anything. These old bones of mine can take it."
A masterclass in playing the martyr.
Naturally, Carter lost his mind even more. "Mom! Stop talking nonsense! Your hand is the priority! She's just being an overdramatic brat!"
Without another backward glance, he carried Eleanor out the door.
The heavy entrance door slammed shut with a deafening bang.
My legs gave out, and I slid down against the floor. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.
Not out of sorrow, but out of absolute disgust with myself.
How on earth had I been so blind to marry such a toxic mama's boy?
Gritting my teeth, I hauled myself up, poured a glass of water, and swallowed two fever reducers.
Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
"Hello, Attorney Vance? It's Chloe. I want to consult you regarding divorce and asset division."
On the other end, Arthur Vance's voice was calm, sharp, and steady: "Chloe, are you certain?"
I looked around the cold, empty house, my gaze hardening into steel.
"Certain. And I don't just want a divorce. I want every single dime they stole from me returned with interest."
It was late evening by the time Carter and Eleanor returned.
Eleanor’s finger was wrapped in thick layers of gauze, looking as if it had been amputated.
Carter gently eased her onto the sofa, then barked at me:
"Chloe! Go get Mom some water! Don't you have any basic manners?!"
I sat curled up on the single armchair, holding a folder in my hands, not even sparing him a glance.
"Are your arms broken? Or did you lose your legs?"
Carter froze, clearly stunned that I had the guts to talk back.
He marched over, thrusting an angry finger in my face:
"What the hell is your problem?! Can't you see Mom is injured? What's so hard about serving your mother-in-law for once?!"
I looked up, my eyes dead and frigid.
"Carter, I'm saying this for the last time. I am your wife, not your family's maid."
"Here is the divorce agreement. Sign it."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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