My Fiancé Always Defended Me—Until a Forgotten Phone Call Revealed the Shocking Truth

My Fiancé Always Took My Side Against His Mother – Until He Forgot to Hang Up and I Realized It Was Their Plan All Along

I believed I was being married to my prince in shining armor, but all I had to do was make a phone call. I heard Alex and his mother scheming behind me as he neglected to end the call.

They were vicious in their laughter. Their scheme? Tragic. However, I’m not the idiot they believe me to be.

Up until I was 25, I thought fairy tales were real. Not the kind with magic wands and dragons, but the kind where decent people have happy endings and love triumphs over everything.

Above all, I thought Alex would be my eternal companion.

He was dependable, kind, and fiercely protective for four years, which is exactly what I wanted. Particularly with regard to his challenging mother, Martha, who never concealed her distaste for me.

I could hear her say, “That girl dresses like she shops blindfolded,” from the kitchen.

“What about that job? Virtual assistant on the side? “Alex, why don’t you date an ambitious person?”

Even though every remark hurt, Alex was always there for me. “You’re the love of my life,” he would whisper, holding me tight after especially cruel family dinners. She’s just lonely and resentful.

I never questioned us since he seemed to be loyal.

I pictured our future based on mutual respect and trust as I mentally prepared our wedding.

I never thought he would be involved all along.

On an ordinary Tuesday, I discovered the truth. I discovered I had forgotten the milk for the sauce while preparing spaghetti for supper.

Alex was heading home from work when I contacted him without hesitation.

“Hey babe, could you pick up some milk on your way home?” When he responded, I inquired.

“Of course. I’ll run home with the milk for you, but I’m at Mom’s right now. “I love you,” he said in a kind and recognizable voice.

When I heard the click, I assumed that the call was coming to an end.

In reality, however, the line did not disconnect. A few seconds later, I heard rustling, and suddenly Martha’s voice was crystal clear on my phone’s speaker.

“Did she buy it?” inquired Martha.

Alex chuckled. “She did, of course. She believes that I am the answer to her prayers. It’s almost too simple, to be honest.

My face was bleeding as I froze.

Then intuition took over.

I had a call recording app on my phone since I occasionally recorded client calls for accuracy as part of my freelance employment. I didn’t think twice that evening.

Before my mind had a chance to catch up, I grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter and pressed record.

Then the really gut hit came.

Martha remarked, “You need to get her to sign the transfer before the wedding,” adopting the formal tone she used when talking about investments. “She wastes that property. Additionally, after the wedding is over…”

“I understand. “I’ll have access to everything once she’s legally mine,” Alex said.

His speech had an edge that was strange. He had never sounded so cold and calculating to me.

“And if she resists?” Martha pushed.

“We’ll work things out. A little exertion. Perhaps even let her know that she is psychologically unstable. Who knows? She is already delicate.

I hung up as they began to chuckle. My heart was broken, bile was rising in my throat, and I was trembling badly. However, beneath the shock, a chilly realization set in: They weren’t merely mean; they were cunning.

They also believed that I was weak.

The lake house. That was their desire.

My mother died two years ago, leaving me the lake house, a modest, serene home that holds many fond memories. Alex had never been very interested in it, but he always loved the weekends we spent there.

That was only part of his game, I recognized now. Alex would attempt to influence or pressure me into signing it away once we were married.

However, neither that night nor the following, I confronted him.

Rather, I played the ideal bride-to-be, kissed him, and grinned when he arrived home in the evenings.

Behind the scenes, I called a lawyer. I discovered that even though my inheritance was solely mine, they had a plan to make me vulnerable by co-signing or combining assets.

As we sat at our kitchen table two days prior to the wedding, Alex handed me a folder.

“I asked a buddy of mine who works as a financial advisor to draft some documents for our future together. “It’s typical prenuptial material,” he remarked nonchalantly. “My buddy’s already looked over it.”

I turned the pages without making any facial expressions.

On page four, “Transfer of Property Rights,” I discovered the trap. For the lake house, that is.

“Oh! “Of course,” I replied, putting a broad smile over my anger. “You have my trust. Everything will be signed by me on the wedding day.

Alex smiled, his eyes full of relief. “Claire, you are the greatest. My mother was mistaken about you.

Was she?

It was a clear and bright day for our wedding. The ceremony in the garden was “classy,” as Martha desired.

I wore the outfit Martha detested, a garment with a vintage feel that she described as “outdated and unflattering,” and I gave the woman who had attempted to ruin me a charming smile.

When Martha saw me, she said, “You look… nice,” which was obviously terrible for her to say.

“Martha, thank you. It means a lot to me that you approve,” I said, sounding cheesy.

The ceremony got underway. At the altar, Alex stood dapper in his tuxedo, grinning at me with what anybody else would consider love.

I took my time going down the aisle.

I turned to the priest and requested the microphone just before the vows began.

“Before I become Mrs. Evans, I want to thank everyone for being here today.”

There were grins everywhere. Unaware of what was going to happen, the guests watched with adoration.

“And I especially want to thank Alex and Martha,” I said, “for showing me who they truly are.”

A wave of confusion swept across the throng. Alex paused his smile.

My maid of honor handed me my phone as I turned to face her. She had consented to have my phone with her during the ceremony, but she was also unaware of what was going to happen.

I hit play while holding my phone up to the microphone.

Over the speakers, Martha’s voice cracked, “You need to get her to sign the transfer before the wedding…” Alex responded, “I know.” I will be able to access everything once she is officially mine.

The garden reverberated with gasps.

Martha sprang forward from her seat in the front row. “Turn that off!” she screamed.

Despite my heart pounding, I stood erect and spoke steadily. “Do you recall that call? I heard everything, yet you neglected to end the call.”

Many of the guests looked scared as I turned to face them.

“I talked to a lawyer as well. “And this?” On the prenup, I held it up. “Is illegal, coercive, and fraudulent.”

I tossed the prenuptial agreement on the floor between Alex and me. “There’s not going to be a wedding.”

Applause erupted from my side of the visitors, breaking the stillness. Stunned but supportive, people stood. It appeared as though Alex had eaten a brick.

He stumbled, “Claire, wait,” and reached for my arm. “I can explain.”

I took a step back, barely touching him. “What can you explain? How did you and your mother intend to pilfer my belongings? If I didn’t comply, how were you going to persuade people that I was mentally ill?”

I extended the microphone to him. “Go ahead, please. Your explanation would be greatly appreciated.

His face went white. Martha was already heading for the door behind him, dodging the other guests’ looks.

Alex emphasized, “It wasn’t like that,” in a hushed voice. “I do love you.”

I answered, “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” my voice finally failing. “Goodbye, Alex.”

I turned around and made my way back down the aisle, feeling lighter with every stride even though I was by myself this time.

However, Alex and his mom had more in store for me.

Martha called a week later.

Curiosity overcame me, and I nearly didn’t respond.

“Claire. “Please,” she said in an unusually quiet voice. “Alex is a complete mess. He was laid off. He—”

Though I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t get Martha’s words out of my head. I thus mailed Alex a unique present a few days later.

A framed picture of the lake house was sent to him along with the words, “You’ll never see it again.”

I took my own car up to the lake cottage the following morning. My mother’s laughter reverberated over the water as I unlocked the door, and I could smell her Sunday morning blueberry pancakes.