I invited a fortune teller to my bridal party as a lighthearted prank to rattle my difficult future mother-in-law. What began as harmless fun quickly turned into a dramatic confrontation, uncovering a secret tucked in her designer bag that almost destroyed my wedding day.
I always knew my future mother-in-law, Harriet, couldn’t stand me. From the moment Griffin introduced us, her disapproval was obvious. She never believed I was good enough for her son. At first I second-guessed myself, but her comments soon removed any doubt.
“Your background simply doesn’t match our family,” she said one afternoon when Griffin was out of earshot. I stood there, too shocked to answer.
Wedding planning only made it worse. Every choice I made drew criticism. The cake was “too plain,” the guest list “too long,” and my dress faced constant attacks.
“Is that truly what you’re wearing?” she asked, staring at a photo of my gown. “It looks inexpensive. Griffin deserves better, Daphne.”
Her remarks stung, but I tried to ignore them. I loved Griffin and didn’t want conflict. Still, the endless jabs felt like a deliberate attempt to dim my happiness. That’s when I thought of a small prank to unsettle her confidence. I booked a fortune teller for the bridal party, hoping some quirky, targeted “predictions” would fluster her and perhaps make her ease up.
The bridal party itself was lovely. My closest friends filled the room with laughter and champagne, the excitement rising with the wedding only a week away. Despite Harriet’s remarks, everything seemed to be coming together.
Then the fortune teller arrived.
She entered dramatically, her flowing indigo and gold dress catching the light, dark eyes piercing, jewelry chiming gently. My friends giggled, eager for the show.
We sat in a circle, and she started with fun, positive readings—love, joy, promising futures. It was the relaxed mood I’d wanted. But when she turned to Harriet, the air changed. She pointed straight at her, expression grave.
“You,” the fortune teller said, voice low and steady. “Your bag holds a secret.”
The room fell silent. Laughter stopped, replaced by tension. My heart raced as I looked at Harriet. This wasn’t scripted. What was going on?
Harriet forced a laugh. “This is absurd,” she said, brushing it off with a wave. “I have no idea what you mean.”
The fortune teller leaned in, undaunted. “You’ve hidden something… something designed to cause harm.”
Everyone stared at Harriet. Her smile wavered, a brief flash of fear showing. “I have nothing to hide,” she snapped, but her voice trembled.
“It’s linked to a wedding,” the fortune teller went on calmly. “An act of sabotage… intended to ruin the day.”
My stomach knotted. Sabotage? I glanced at my friends; their faces reflected the same shock I felt. Was this still a joke? Harriet’s clenched jaw and wide eyes suggested otherwise.
“You’re inventing this,” Harriet said, rising abruptly. “I won’t stay for this nonsense.”
I stepped forward, voice unsteady. “What’s in the bag, Harriet?”
She gripped her designer bag tighter, face pale. The room was completely quiet, all attention on her. My friends, who had known about the prank, now looked as disturbed as I felt.
“This is ridiculous,” Harriet stammered, trying to sound assured. “You’re all falling for this performance.”
The fortune teller’s voice broke in calmly. “You’ve acted against someone close,” she said. “It involves a dress… a wedding dress.”
My breath stopped. My dress—the one she’d mocked repeatedly? I stared at Harriet, her knuckles white on the strap.
“You’re lying!” Harriet shouted, voice cracking. “I’d never—”
“Then open the bag,” the fortune teller said coolly. “If there’s nothing to hide.”
Harriet stepped back, eyes searching for a way out. “I don’t owe anyone an explanation,” she hissed.
The tension was unbearable. I couldn’t wait any longer. “Show us,” I said, anger and fear mixing in my voice. “What’s in the bag, Harriet?”
She held it closer, but my friend Lyssia, standing nearby, reached out. In the brief tug, the bag slipped and fell, contents scattering across the floor—a small sewing kit and, horrifyingly, a piece of lace. My lace. The delicate trim from my wedding dress.
Gasps rose around the room. I stared at the fabric, thoughts reeling. How did she have it? Why?
“What did you do?” I whispered, tears welling as my voice broke.
Harriet’s face lost all color. She staggered back, lips trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she murmured, eyes filling.
The silence was heavy. Everyone watched her.
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded, stepping closer. “What did you do to my dress?”
She drew a shaky breath, wiping tears. “I… I didn’t want you to marry Griffin,” she admitted softly. “I thought if I ruined the wedding, he’d realize you weren’t right for him.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks as the confession sank in. My friends stood frozen. How could she plan something so cruel?
“I went to your fitting,” she continued, voice quivering. “I slipped in after you left and loosened some threads. Just enough so the dress would come apart when you walked down the aisle.”
Nausea swept over me. She’d planned to humiliate me in front of everyone on my wedding day—all because she felt I wasn’t worthy.
“Why?” I choked out, raw with pain. “Why would you do something so vicious?”
Tears streamed down Harriet’s face as she collapsed into a chair. “I didn’t think it would go this far,” she sobbed. “I just wanted Griffin to see he could do better.”
I shook my head, the betrayal slicing deep. The woman who would soon be family had plotted to wreck my wedding. And Griffin wasn’t there to hear her admit it, to stand beside me.
A hand rested on my shoulder—my mother, Sole. She’d stayed quiet until now, but her presence steadied me. “How dare you,” she said, voice firm with anger, moving in front of me. “How dare you try to sabotage my daughter’s wedding. Do you have any idea how much Daphne loves Griffin? How hard we’ve worked to welcome you?”
Harriet looked up, face streaked with tears. “I didn’t—”
“No,” Sole cut in sharply. “You’ve made your feelings clear. You don’t respect my daughter or this family.”
Harriet tried to speak, but Sole went on. “This wedding is about love and building a future. If you can’t support that, you don’t belong here.”
The room stayed still, Sole’s words lingering. Harriet sat sobbing, but Sole remained resolute.
“You’re going to make this right,” Sole said, tone unwavering. “You’ll fix it, or you won’t be at the wedding.”
Harriet nodded through tears, no fight left.
I stood trembling, my mother’s strength holding me up. The betrayal still hurt deeply, but Sole’s defense gave me solid ground. I didn’t know exactly what would come next, but one thing was certain—everything had shifted.