I always knew my mother-in-law, Denise, didn’t like me. She wasn’t outright cruel, but she had a way of making me feel temporary—like I was just a passing phase in her son’s life.

So, when my husband, Julian, invited her over for dinner, I wasn’t surprised when she got a “work call” just as we were about to eat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she sighed dramatically, holding up her phone. “It’s my manager—I have to take this.”

Julian looked disappointed but nodded. “Of course, Mom.”

She stepped away, pretending to listen intently. But then I saw it—her front camera was open, not a call screen. No timer, no missed calls—nothing.

She quickly shut it off, but I had already seen it.

I could have called her out then and there, but instead, I smiled sweetly. “Oh no, Denise, are you sure you have to go? We made your favorite—lemon herb chicken.”

She hesitated for a split second, eyes darting away. She knew I had seen. But she was committed to the lie. “Yes, unfortunately. It’s urgent.”

Julian gave a small smile. “Of course. We’ll do this another time.”

Denise grabbed her purse and practically ran out the door.

Later that night, I casually mentioned it to Julian. “Did you notice anything weird about your mom’s call?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, then said, “She wasn’t actually on a call. Her front camera was open.”

He blinked. “Wait… what?”

I shrugged. “She faked the whole thing.”

Julian was silent for a moment, then let out a small chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed.”

I grinned. “So what do we do?”

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “We invite her again.”