My Daughter-in-Law Humiliated Me at Her Wedding,Then I Inherited a Billion-Dollar Fortune

1: 1

The wedding had reached the tea-serving ritual.

That was when my daughter-in-law, in front of a hall full of guests, tossed down a Family Harmony Contract and told me to sign it.

The terms ran dense across dozens of pages.

Article One:

After the marriage, the mother-in-law is to hand over all of her savings, and her pension card is to be held by the daughter-in-law.

Article Two:

After the marriage, the mother-in-law is responsible for cleaning, laundry, and cooking.

The stovetop must be kept free of grease and the floor free of water stains. Each violation incurs a two-hundred-dollar fine.

Article Three:

Without permission, the mother-in-law may not enter the son and daughter-in-law's room.

Each violation incurs a five-hundred-dollar fine.

Article Eighty-Seven:

Ten at night to seven in the morning is a strict silence period.

During this time she may not move about the room, may not watch television or listen to music, and may not use the bathroom.

Each violation incurs a one-thousand-dollar fine.

"Tracey, what is this supposed to mean?"

I was hoping I'd read too much into it.

But my daughter-in-law only sneered with contempt.

"Old woman, quit putting on an act."

"Don't think that just because you're old, you get to lord it over this family like it's your right."

"From now on I'm the woman of this house. If you want to live with us, you live by my rules."

Looking at that smug, chin-in-the-air daughter-in-law, I suddenly found myself smiling.

So my daughter-in-law meant to lay down the law for me, her mother-in-law, in public, on her own wedding day?

I raised my eyes to my son, who had stood by the whole time, watching coldly, not saying a word.

"Is this what you want too?"

Because of this sudden turn.

The wedding that had been loud and lively a moment ago went dead silent.

My son, Ivan Dickerson, looked at me, his tone dismissive.

"Mom, don't blame Tracey. I agreed to it."

"Tracey married me without demanding some sky-high bride price like other girls do. She's already marrying beneath her. And now, this is the only thing she's asking for."

My body went rigid all at once.

I froze where I stood.

Staring in disbelief at this son I had raised with my own hands.

"Then do you even know what's written in there?"

My voice trembled faintly.

Ivan nodded.

"Of course. Some of the terms I added myself, to help Tracey out."

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

"Ivan, I'm your own mother."

"And you'd let your wife humiliate me in front of everyone like this?"

Ivan frowned slightly.

"How is this humiliating?"

"It's precisely because you're my mother that some things need to be put in writing, so you don't keep pulling the elder-of-the-house act on us whenever the mood strikes."

One sentence, light as air.

But it was like a poison-tipped blade, driven hard into my heart.

"Mom, it's just a signature. There are this many people watching. Just play along. Don't make me lose face in front of my relatives and friends, all right?"

I looked at that familiar face of Ivan's, and it suddenly felt like a stranger's.

The son I had carried for ten months and raised through such hardship could now, to please another woman, grind my dignity under his heel without a moment's hesitation.

My heart felt like a thing with a hole torn through it, cold wind whistling through.

It was June, yet I felt as if I'd been dropped into an ice pit, chilled to the bone.

And those relatives and friends who had once eaten at my table, drunk my tea, taken kindness from my hands, not one of them stepped forward to say a single word for me now.

Instead they watched me with a kind of gleeful anticipation, waiting for the show.

Seeing that I still stood there, unmoving.

My daughter-in-law, Tracey Cobb, looked thoroughly impatient.

"Ivan, what are you dawdling with her for? If we miss the lucky hour, there won't be any wedding at all!"

Ivan heard that and got flustered, his words tumbling out faster.

"Mom, it's just a signature. Is it really that hard?"

Just a signature?

He knew perfectly well that once I signed, I truly would have no dignity left at all.

They say a man forgets his mother the moment he takes a wife.

Before, every time I heard that saying, I'd give a small smile and let it pass.

It wasn't until today that I truly understood why an old saying could be passed down for a thousand years. There's a reason for it.

Swallowing the bitterness in my chest, I looked at the two of them.

"And what if I don't sign?"

Tracey's face darkened.

"Don't sign?!"

"Old woman, don't throw away what dignity we're offering you."

"If you don't sign, you can forget ever setting foot in our home again, and don't count on us taking care of you in your old age either."

I turned to Ivan.

"Ivan, and you? Is this what you mean too?"

2: 2

Ivan's eyes flickered, and he lowered his voice to coax me.

"Mom, it's just a signature. Do you really have to make such an ugly scene in front of everyone?"

"I'm begging you, all right? Just do it for me. Sign it. And I'll tell you straight, I'm not marrying anyone but Tracey in this life. You don't want me to stay single forever, do you?"

By the end, the threat in his voice was out in the open.

It was like a rusted, blunt knife driven deep into my heart and twisted hard.

And with it, the last shred of hope and warmth I had for Ivan was shredded to pieces too.

For twenty years I'd scrimped and saved, working myself half to death, three jobs some days if I could manage it.

All so he could go to the best schools.

Even after he started working, I kept taking odd jobs, just to scrape together his down payment and buy the wedding car.

I'd thought my sacrifice would earn me a grateful, good son.

But it turned out that, in his eyes,

I was nothing but a tool to be squeezed dry whenever he needed to please his wife.

In that instant, my heart went cold all the way through.

I looked at Ivan and said, one word at a time,

"I won't sign."

The smugness on Tracey's face froze over in an instant.

Ivan stared at me too, his eyes full of shock.

"Mom! How long are you going to keep this up?"

His voice shot up, and the look he gave me was pure accusation.

I met his eyes coldly.

"You're sure I'm the one making a scene?"

Ivan's brows knotted. "Am I wrong, though?"

"Today's my big day, and you won't rest until you've turned the whole family upside down, is that it?"

His face went red as he jabbed a finger at me and shouted.

I looked at the man in front of me and didn't look away.

That boy who once held me, eyes red, and said, "Mom, I'll take good care of you when I grow up," seemed to have died somewhere along the way without my ever knowing when.

The air in the room grew stiffer by the second.

Tracey's mother, who hadn't said a word until now, rose slowly to her feet, giving me a look of disapproval.

"Wanda, I don't mean to lecture you, but you really are being unreasonable."

"Like they say, there's no order without rules. The children are only doing this for the sake of a harmonious family down the road, aren't they?"

She paused, then went on.

"If you ask me, if you really love your son, just sign it now, admit you were wrong, and the whole thing's behind us. There's no need to ruin everyone's mood on a happy day like this."

"And stop looking so miserable. Anyone who didn't know better would think you'd been terribly wronged."

That little speech of hers nearly made me laugh out of sheer anger.

Since the beginning of time, I'd only ever heard of a mother-in-law laying down the rules for a new daughter-in-law.

A daughter-in-law laying down the rules for her mother-in-law was something I'd never heard of and never seen.

I looked at Tracey's mother coldly.

"So by your logic, I deserve to grovel like some servant and lay my own dignity on the floor for them to trample?"

3: 3

Called out in front of everyone, Kirsten couldn't keep the smile on her face. She let out a scornful little snort.

"What is wrong with you? Can't you tell when someone's trying to help you?"

"Everything I've said, I've said for your own good."

"Look at your age. Throwing a tantrum like some little girl?"

I smiled.

"Then keep all that good for yourself."

"You"

Kirsten choked, pointing at me, unable to get out another word.

Tracey's face went a livid green.

"Listen, old woman. I'll ask you one last time. Are you signing this or not?"

"And I'll tell you one last time. I'm not signing."

My voice was firmer than it had ever been.

Tracey laughed, one cold laugh after another.

"Good. Good, good, very good."

"Ivan, you heard her. Your own mother said it herself. So don't blame me for what comes next."

Ivan's brow knotted tight.

"Mom, does it have to be like this? What good does it do you, dragging this out and making everyone look bad?"

When I said nothing, something vicious flickered in his eyes.

"Fine. You won't sign?"

"You won't sign, then don't blame me for not treating you like my mother anymore!"

And then Ivan actually reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a disownment letter.

Looking at those three words, disownment letter, I felt my pupils tighten, twice, hard.

I hadn't expected it.

Ivan and Tracey had come this prepared. They'd even had the disownment letter ready in advance.

So it turned out that in the face of selfishness, a mother's love wasn't worth a thing.

For a woman he'd known less than two years, my son was ready, without a moment's hesitation, to throw away the mother who had raised him for twenty.

Looking at my face, drained nearly white of any color, a flicker of reluctance passed through his eyes.

"Mom, you forced this on me. You've only got yourself to blame for not knowing when to bend."

"We gave you chance after chance. You're the one who didn't value them."

"Sign it, and after this you don't have a son in me, and I won't care whether you live or die!"

Disappointment swept over me all at once, like a rising tide.

The last thread of warmth I felt for Ivan turned to ash.

When I lifted my head again, my eyes were cold as ice.

"Fine. Have it your way."

I picked up the pen and signed my name, pressing hard.

I handed the signed disownment letter back to Ivan, straightened my spine, and turned around.

I didn't spare them another glance. Step by step, I walked toward the door.

The whole room went dead silent.

Everyone was stunned by what I'd just done.

Ivan most of all.

He never seemed to imagine I would agree so cleanly.

He'd always believed he could use family to keep me in line.

After all, I only had this one son.

All my life, for the sake of so-called family, I'd given in more than once.

But this time, he was bound to be disappointed.

"Ivan, your mother's really leaving!"

As I got closer and closer to the door, someone in the crowd called out.

But Ivan only snorted, not the least bit concerned.

"Let her leave! Who's she trying to scare?"

"Without me for a son, she won't have a place to land. Just watch. In three days she'll come back and beg me on her own."

4: 4

Once, hearing Ivan say something like that would have gutted me.

I'd have been heartbroken, twisted up inside.

But now, when he finished, there wasn't so much as a ripple in me.

Even my steps felt lighter as I walked.

The first thing I did once I was out the hotel doors was call the bank's customer line and freeze my paycheck card.

I'd emptied every bit of my savings for this wedding.

If Ivan and Tracey wanted to cut ties with me, then they could pay for the reception themselves.

A black Rolls-Royce with consecutive premium plates was parked at the curb.

The door opened, and a poised young man held an umbrella himself and respectfully invited me in.

"Miss Farley, welcome home!"

"The chairman has waited thirty years for you."

If anyone had been there, they would have gasped out loud.

Because the man was none other than the personal assistant to Nicholas Farley, president of the Farley Group, the richest family in New York.

Ivan and Tracey had no idea.

I was the Farleys' eldest daughter, lost to the world for thirty years. Wanda Farley.

Only three days ago, the Farleys had found me.

I'd meant to tell Ivan and Tracey the good news once the wedding was over.

Instead, before the wedding was even over, I'd been driven out of the venue like a stray dog.

The car turned into Hillcrest Estates and finally stopped before a sprawling European-style manor.

"Wanda my daughter"

The moment my father saw me, the man who had once commanded the business world couldn't hold back his tears.

"Dad"

My own eyes went hot. I walked quickly to him and held him tight.

He stroked the top of my head, his voice choked:

"You're home now. You're home."

In that moment I felt a warmth I hadn't known in a long time.

To make it up to me,

my father transferred the Farley Group, worth tens of billions, into my name.

The manor we were standing in was signed over to me too.

On top of that, he gave me ten storefronts in the best locations in the city.

"I've already heard about the wedding"

He looked at me, his eyes full of ache for me.

"Don't you worry. From this day on, the Farleys are the ground under your feet. Anyone who dares make you suffer even a little, I'll bury his whole family with him!"

I held my father's hand, about to tell him it was all right.

Just then the phone rang.

It was Ivan.

The moment I picked up, his furious voice came through:

"Mom, you froze the paycheck card?"

"Yes, I froze it."

I nodded and admitted it plainly.

And then, as if something had set him off, Ivan's voice shot up.

He was so worked up it cracked:

"What gives you the right to freeze the card?"

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it was when the hotel asked me to settle the balance on the reception and my card kept getting declined?"

I gave a cold laugh:

"The right? It's my paycheck card. That's the right."

"Oh, right, I forgot to mention. I didn't just freeze the card. I sold your wedding house too."