She Made Our Home Her Throne — So I Set a Trap She Didn’t See Coming
Every time my in-laws visited, my mother-in-law, Monica, claimed our master bedroom like it was her royal suite—shoving my things aside, lighting her overpowering candles, and tossing her cosmetics across our space without so much as a “may I?” For five years, I swallowed my pride while Jake, my husband, made excuses. But this time,…
…and said with a voice trembling with rage,
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE BED?!”
I tilted my head, pretending to think.
“Oh? You mean our bed?” I asked calmly.
Turns out, she hadn’t slept at all.
See, months ago, after the last time she trashed our bedroom, I quietly replaced the mattress with a special one—medical-grade, temperature-regulating and motion-tracking, the kind used for people with severe night sweats and incontinence.
It automatically locked into maximum firmness and heat once it detected prolonged occupancy.
No cooling. No softness. No comfort.
Just unbearable heat and a surface hard as concrete.
I smiled sweetly.
“Oh, that bed? It’s been adjusted for guests who refuse to use the guest room.”
She went pale. My husband, who had slept peacefully beside me in the guest room, finally spoke up:
“Mom. You were told where to sleep.”
She packed her bags within the hour.
And from that day on?
She’s never even asked about our bedroom again.
