My mother-in-law was never a kind woman. From the day I became her daughter-in-law, she was always strict, cold, and, at times… absurdly harsh.
That’s why I was speechless when, one morning, she handed me a thick red envelope. Inside was $50,000 pesos in cash.
“Go abroad,” she said. “Get away for a few weeks. I’ll take care of everything here.”
I froze, not understanding anything. But the strangest thing was to come later—the very day I was supposed to board the plane, I made an impulsive decision: to return home quietly, without telling anyone.
What I discovered at the front door broke my heart.
My name is Paulina, I’m 32 years old, and I live in Guadalajara with my husband, Rodrigo, and my mother-in-law, Doña Carmen.
Rodrigo is a systems engineer. He’s kind, but he blindly follows everything his mother tells him. And my mother-in-law… in the five years we’ve lived under the same roof, she’s never treated me with affection.
My life revolved around keeping house, taking care of our young son, and working a full-time office job. I thought it would always be that way… until last Monday.
That morning, Doña Carmen called me into the kitchen.
“Paulina, I want to talk to you.”
She was sitting at the table, a red envelope in front of her.
I approached cautiously, thinking something serious had happened. When I sat down, she pushed the envelope toward me.
“Here’s fifty thousand pesos. Take a break from work. Go away for a few weeks. A change of scenery will do you good. I’ll take care of everything.”
I thought I was dreaming.
I looked at her. Then I looked at the envelope.
Her usual icy-cold tone was gone. For the first time, she spoke gently. With a sweetness she’d never shown before.
“Is everything okay, mother-in-law?” I asked.
She smiled weakly.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been tired lately, sighing a lot. As women, we sometimes forget to take care of ourselves. I was a wife too, I understand.”
I have to admit: I was touched. It was the first time in five years that she showed even a hint of concern for me.
I told Rodrigo. He just nodded and said,
“If Mom told you to, go. I’ll ask permission and take you to the airport.”
I began to believe—maybe, just maybe—that she was finally accepting me.
I booked a tour of Europe. The flight was leaving on Friday.
But on Thursday night… I felt something strange.
As I passed by the living room, I heard Doña Carmen on the phone. Her voice was low but firm:
“Make sure everything is ready. Don’t let Paulina find out. As soon as she leaves, we’ll sort everything out. No loose ends.”
I froze.
Solve what? What shouldn’t I know?
I walked into the living room as if I hadn’t heard anything. She turned around and smiled.
“Are you packed yet?”
I didn’t sleep that night. Anxiety was eating me up.
The next morning, Rodrigo drove me to the airport. I hugged my son tightly and said goodbye. Doña Carmen smiled sweetly and wished me “a peaceful trip.”
But something wasn’t right.
At the check-in counter, I said I was going to the bathroom. In reality, I called a taxi and went straight home.
I arrived around 9:15 a.m.
The house was locked. But I had my copy.
I turned slowly. Everything was silent, except for some distant voices coming from the living room.
I approached… and froze.
Rodrigo, my husband—the same one who had just dropped me off at the airport—was on the couch… hugging another woman around the waist.
And that woman… was Mariana.
My best friend from college.
I gasped. They hadn’t seen me yet.
Then I heard Mariana laugh:
“Is she really gone already? I can’t believe your mom solved it so easily.”
Rodrigo replied:
“We gave her the 50,000 pesos so she’d be happy. You’re moving out this week.”
Mariana hugged him, laughing:
“It’s a good thing she’s so naive. Otherwise, how would we have hidden this pregnancy?”
Pregnancy?
My legs trembled. My vision blurred.
The money, the sudden kindness, the trip… it was all a trap. A plan to get me out of the house and “resolve” whatever they were up to.
And Doña Carmen?
She was the mastermind behind it all.
I froze. Every word cut me like a knife.
I couldn’t believe it. My best friend, to whom I gave a spare key, with whom I had dinner, who slept at my house… was betraying me with my husband.
And the woman who, for the first time in five years, treated me well… was the one who had planned it all.
I took a deep breath. I took out my cell phone.
I recorded everything.
Their voices. Their confessions. Their laughter.
I took pictures from the doorway. Then… I left silently. Without screaming. Without crying. Without making a fuss.
Not yet.
I didn’t go back to my parents’ house.
I rented a small apartment in another neighborhood. I cut off all communication with Rodrigo and his family. I requested two weeks of unpaid leave to recover and plan.
The first thing I did: see a lawyer.
I showed him everything—the recordings, the photos, old messages Mariana had sent to Rodrigo (messages that had previously raised doubts, but I had no proof).
The lawyer
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