Divorced by Three My Daughters-in-Laws Betrayal

"Why should I be the only one serving her? She's not just *my* mother-in-law! If Bella divorces, I'm divorcing too!" Olivia Montgomery's lip curled as she glanced at the eighty-five-year-old woman slumped in the wheelchair. Pure disgust. Not even an attempt to hide it.

Sarah Montgomery's voice cut through next, shrill and triumphant. "You divorce! I'll divorce too!"

Old. Paralyzed. Dying.

I was garbage to them. Something to be shoved back and forth, passed around like a burden no one wanted to claim. My sons were worse—inventing business trips, fleeing to other cities, anything to avoid the inconvenience of their own mother.

Unable to feed myself. Unable to bathe. Unable to do anything but exist.

They dumped me in my old hometown and left me there to rot.

I died alone. Consumed by bitterness so deep it had eaten through my bones.

A lifetime of devotion. Every dollar. Every ounce of love I had. Poured into children who couldn't wait for me to stop breathing.

From the moment my three sons married, I had divided my entire retirement pension evenly among their wives. I raised their children with my own hands while my back bent lower each year. They called me "the best mother-in-law in the world." They swore they'd take care of me when I was old.

*We'll be there for you, Mom. Always.*

Lies.

When the time came, they ran faster than rabbits fleeing a hawk.

But then—

The darkness receded.

My eyes opened. The stench of decay was gone. My limbs moved. My spine was straight.

I was back.

Back to the very day my three daughters-in-law married into this family.

They sat in my living room right now, discussing the future. Should we all eat from one communal pot? Or should Mother rotate between households, cooking and cleaning for a month at a time?

Their voices droned on, making plans for my servitude.

I didn't let them finish.

"I'm getting a divorce."

The words sliced through the air like a blade.

"You can discuss these arrangements when you have mothers-in-law of your own."

——

Silence.

Every head snapped toward me. Eyes wide. Mouths hanging open.

"Samantha, what did I do? Why are you angry?" My husband Sebastian's face had gone white. His hands trembled as he reached for mine—something he never did in front of the children. "Scold me if you must. I'll change! But why... why divorce?"

Sebastian died ten years before me in my previous life. He never knew what happened after he was gone. Never witnessed the horror of what his sons became.

Ian stepped forward, my eldest, his brow furrowed. "Mom, what nonsense are you talking about?"

"You and Dad are fine." Sean looked genuinely baffled. "Why would you divorce? Did Dad upset you?"

Julian let out a scoff. My youngest. Always treating everything like a joke. "Mom, you're fifty-five, not twenty-five. What are you making a fuss about at this age?"

Bella crossed her arms, her voice dripping with mockery. "What is this? We just got married, and the mother-in-law is staging a divorce drama?"

"Exactly." Olivia's sneer matched her tone. "What's the difference between this and marriage fraud? If I'd known it was like this, I wouldn't have married into this family at all."

Sarah rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck. "Divorce or not, you're still our husbands' mother. You're still our mother-in-law. You still have responsibilities to fulfill!"

Their voices crawled under my skin like insects.

In my past life, these three women had each been more calculating than the last. I had foolishly believed that sincerity would be returned with sincerity. *Only a good mother-in-law makes a good daughter-in-law*, I had told myself.

So I gave them everything.

My $9,000 monthly pension, split three ways. Daily home-cooked meals, delivered door-to-door so they could enjoy their privacy while I slaved over a hot stove. Their laundry—including underwear they "accidentally" left in the hamper for me.

Eight grandchildren. Sebastian and I hadn't slept a full night in years.

And for what?

To die choking on my own filth while they counted down the days until my heart stopped?

Not this time.