How a Mother Betrayed Her Daughter for Her Son! Dramatic Tales of Life
Emily achieved everything on her own, but her mother was ready to steal her happiness for the sake of her beloved son. Discover how she faced betrayal and found the strength to fight back!
In a quiet town in Yorkshire, where winter winds howled through the cobbled streets, Emily built her life with relentless determination. By thirty-three, she had everything she ever wanted: a loving husband, Oliver, two adorable children, and a spacious flat in a new neighbourhood. Yet the shadow of her mother, Margaret Wilson, loomed over her happiness like a storm cloud.
“Emily, happy anniversary! Ten years of love,” Oliver walked in with a bouquet of crimson roses and her favourite fruitcake. “And what luck—our housewarming falls on our wedding day!”
“Do you think anyone will even remember?” Emily smiled faintly, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Remember? Don’t be daft. Your parents didn’t even come to our wedding—still sulking we didn’t throw a grand party.”
“At least we bought our first car right after signing the papers,” Oliver chimed in proudly.
“Yes, time passed, I forgave them—mostly. But it still stings,” Emily admitted, gazing out at the snow-dusted streets.
Ten years ago, when Emily and Oliver decided to marry, they approached her parents with hopeful hearts, clutching a celebratory cake.
“Mum, Dad, Oliver proposed! We’re getting married next month,” Emily announced, expecting tears of joy from her mother and a bear hug from her father.
But Margaret, Jeremy Wilson, and Emily’s younger brother, Daniel, met the news with icy indifference.
“So, sis, where are you getting the cash for the wedding?” Daniel slouched on the sofa, lazily interrupting the silence.
“Dan, we’re not having a big wedding. Just the registry, a photoshoot. While we’re with the photographer, you lot can head to the pub—we’ve booked a table,” Emily explained.
“We’ll manage a modest meal,” Oliver added, forcing a smile.
“What—no proper wedding?” Margaret’s eyes flashed. “What will the family say? That we’re too stingy for our own daughter?”
“Mum, who cares what they think? It’s our day, not a show. We’re doing it our way,” Emily pleaded.
“We saved up, but then decided a car mattered more than a one-off party,” Oliver defended.
“And the relatives?” Margaret pressed. “They invited us to all their weddings—are we worse than them?”
“Margaret, are you offering to pay for it?” Oliver blurted.
Margaret was shrewd. She had money, but every penny was reserved for her golden boy, Daniel. Still, saving face mattered.
“A wedding is essential—a car can wait. You’ve managed without one! Who’s on the guest list?” Margaret demanded.
“Emily, weddings are serious,” Jeremy chimed in. “Your mum can help—don’t fret.”
One sharp glare from Margaret silenced him.
“Dream on! Emily’s got her own money. Daniel’s the one who needs a wedding—he’d never afford it himself!” Margaret snapped.
“Free food at someone else’s wedding? I’m in,” Daniel snorted.
“Shut it, you dimwit!” Margaret smacked his head. “Emily, no proper wedding, no attendance from us.”
The air thickened. Oliver stared, stunned by their refusal.
“Fine. We won’t bend. We’ll invite friends,” Emily said firmly.
“The pub’s already booked,” Oliver backed her.
The wedding was intimate—just close friends, laughter, and dancing. Emily’s parents never showed.
Afterward, Emily and Oliver bought a car and saved for a flat. The hurt faded, and Margaret, as if nothing happened, resumed contact.
Three years later, they bought a tiny one-bed flat in an old building. It was cramped, drafty—but theirs. Oliver renovated, insulated the floors, turning it cosy.
Then Daniel announced his engagement.
“Emily, news! Daniel’s getting married. Can you chip in £5,000? Our savings are tied up—don’t want to lose interest,” Margaret demanded over the phone.
“Are you serious? We just bought a flat, and I’m on maternity leave. Why should I pay for Daniel’s wedding? You skipped ours!” Emily fumed.
“Let bygones be bygones! You refused a proper wedding—Daniel’s is a hundred guests, plus the bride’s side. It’s a big deal,” Margaret dismissed.
“No cash? Dip into your savings. Oliver doesn’t drink—he can be the driver,” Margaret ordered.
She couldn’t bear looking cheap. Daniel’s wedding was lavish, yet the joy soured fast.
“Quiet, everyone! Mum’s toast!” Margaret stood, clutching Jeremy. “Daniel, we’re giving you a flat! Two-bed, not new, but it’ll do. Fix it up, like Emily’s hovel.”
“Mum, what—Daniel gets a flat? Why wasn’t I offered? Where will you live?” Emily gaped.
“Pipe down! You’ve got your flat. We’ll move in with Gran—she needs care,” Margaret brushed her off.
“Jealous, Em? Parents gave me a flat—you got zilch,” Daniel sneered.
Emily choked on betrayal—not over the flat, but the injustice. Daniel got everything; she got scraps. They called her greedy, though she’d always cared for them, knowing Daniel would kick them out.
Tears spilled mid-wedding. Emily fled; Oliver chased her.
“Margaret, this isn’t fair. Emily earned everything—Daniel gets handouts,” Oliver spat, storming out. Guests followed.
“Her fault! She refused a wedding!” Margaret yelled, blind to the wound.
Time dulled the fight, but the scars remained. Emily and Oliver upgraded—a three-bed in a modern complex. Selling their old flat, they poured savings into the new place. Oliver’s renovations made it stunning.
When her parents visited, Margaret gushed.
“Gorgeous! Look at that lift—so posh!”
“We’ve got underfloor heating—saves loads,” Emily added, basking in rare praise.
“So spacious! Your old place could fit in this hallway,” Margaret marvelled.
But Oliver spotted the gleam in her eye.
“Lovely flat. Shame Daniel’s stuck in our old one—wallpaper’s peeling,” Margaret sighed.
Emily stiffened, recalling years of favouritism.
“Each reaps what they sow. We worked for this,” Oliver snapped.
“Daniel could never afford this. His wife’s useless with money. Maybe you could swap? He’ll take yours, you move to his…” Margaret mused.
Silence. Even Jeremy choked on his tea.
“Are you mad? They’ve got a mortgage, did the renovations—and you want them to hand it to Daniel?” he spluttered.
“I’m just thinking aloud! Hypothetically!” Margaret backtracked.
But Emily knew the truth—Margaret lived for Daniel. Her achievements meant nothing. No one remembered their anniversary. Too busy.
