Pregnant at 50- My Mother-in-Law's Scandalous Affair

I Found a Box of Birth Control Pills in My Widowed Mother-in-Law's Room.

I replaced the birth control pills with ordinary stomach medicine. The reason was simple: since my mother-in-law always wanted to hold a grandchild, why not have one herself?

Later, Mrs. Thompson from next door confronted my mother-in-law, throwing a bank card at her: "This is the payment for giving birth to a child for our family."

1

I installed a tiny camera in the bedroom.

After coming home from work, I often found that the neatly made bed was wrinkled, and the alarm clock or glass on the bedside table had subtly moved.

But there were only my husband Ryan and I at home, along with my mother-in-law who had just moved in recently.

Two years ago, after my father-in-law passed away, my mother-in-law had been living alone.

Ryan and I had agreed to live by ourselves before marriage, but two months into our newlywed life, he used a sob story to bring his mother to live with us.

He swore solemnly, "My mom is just a little woman. She won't affect our life together at all."

Unexpectedly, on the second day after my mother-in-law moved in, she came knocking on our door at six in the morning.

"Olivia, why haven't you made breakfast for mom yet?"

When there was no response to her knocking, she changed to loud banging, calling for us.

I propped up my heavy body and opened the door. "Mom, don't we have a housekeeper to make breakfast?"

"That's very expensive!" she exclaimed. "Making breakfast isn't much trouble, why waste that money?"

Her head only reached my nose, but her demeanor was imposing as she stared at me intently.

Ryan was still sleeping like a dead pig. Considering he had worked overtime last night, I didn't wake him up. Instead, I resigned myself to going to the kitchen to heat up some bread and then fry eggs and ham to make sandwiches.

My mother-in-law pushed the sandwich aside. "Is this breakfast? You little girl, are you trying to fool me?"

"This is what Ryan and I usually eat for breakfast. What would you like to eat?"

"I'm not asking for much. There must be oatmeal in the morning, preferably not repeating within a week. The side dishes can be anything, but there must be bacon and sausages, right? The protein is nutritious, but it shouldn't be too greasy. Just like the breakfast at Rosewood Cafe would be fine."

Her spit flew onto my face as she rattled on. I wiped my face and took the keys to go downstairs to buy breakfast for her.

She was still talking, "I'm not asking you to buy it, I want you to make it. The bought ones are unhealthy. Who knows what ingredients they use? Hey, you little girl, how dare you walk away while I'm talking..."

In the days that followed, she became increasingly overbearing. After driving away the hourly housekeeper, all the housework fell on me. She insisted that clothes couldn't be thrown in the washing machine, saying they had to be hand-washed to be clean. She unplugged the dishwasher, saying it wasted electricity and ...