When her husband betrayed her father’s trust by refusing to repay a $30,000 loan, she decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget. Armed with a fake pregnancy test and a clever plan, she turned the tables, leaving him scrambling for cash and ultimately walking away $50,000 richer.

I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. My dad drove the local bus, and my mom cleaned rooms at the motel on the edge of town. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. My parents worked hard and always made sure we had food on the table. They taught me the value of hard work and honesty.

Then I met Tom. He was charming and full of big dreams. I was swept off my feet. We met at a friend’s party, and he made me laugh like no one else. “You’re different,” he said, holding my gaze with his clear blue eyes. “I like that.” We dated for a year before he proposed. I thought I’d found my happily ever after.

The first year of marriage was wonderful. We laughed a lot and talked about our future. “I’m going to make us rich one day, you’ll see,” he’d say.

I believed him because he believed it. My parents were happy for me, too. They saw how happy I was, and that was enough for them.

One evening, about two years into our marriage, Tom came home with a serious look on his face.

“I’ve got a great idea for a business, babe,” he said, excitement in his voice. “But I need some start-up money. I was thinking maybe we could ask your dad.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know, Tom. They don’t have much. It’s a big ask.”

“Just $30,000,” he said as if it was pocket change. “It’ll change our lives, I promise. I’ll pay it back in a year, I swear.”

The next weekend, we sat at my parents’ kitchen table. My dad listened quietly while Tom explained his business idea. He talked about opening a small auto repair shop. “I’ve got the skills, Jim,” Tom said, leaning forward. “I just need a little help to get started.”

My dad looked thoughtful. “That’s a lot of money, Tom. But I believe in giving people a chance. If you’re sure about this, I’ll lend you the money.”

“Thank you, Jim! I won’t let you down,” Tom said, shaking my dad’s hand firmly. They agreed on the terms: Tom would pay back the loan in one year. It was simple and based on trust.

My dad was always like that, generous and trusting. He believed in people, sometimes too much. But that’s just who he was.

Six months later, the business was struggling. Tom was working long hours, but customers weren’t coming in as expected. “It’s just a rough patch,” he’d say. “Things will pick up.”

But they didn’t. A year passed, and the business was barely hanging on. Tom became distant, spending more time at the shop and coming home late. One night, I brought up the loan. “You haven’t forgotten about the money you owe Dad, have you?”

Tom’s face darkened. “What money?” he snapped.

“The $30,000 he lent you. You said you’d pay it back in a year.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his eyes cold. “I never borrowed any money.”

I was stunned. “Are you serious? You sat right there and asked him! You shook his hand, Tom!”

“You’re imagining things,” he said, turning away. “Your dad must be confused.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The man I married was pretending the loan never happened.

Things got worse from there. Tom started saying crazy things like, “Your dad’s trying to scam me! I never agreed to anything!” He even mentioned wanting a divorce, claiming my family was out to get him.

I was heartbroken. How could he lie like this? My dad was hurt, too. “I trusted him,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought he was a good man.”

I didn’t know what to do. I felt trapped and betrayed. How could the man I loved turn into someone I didn’t even recognize? It felt like my world was falling apart.

And that’s when I realized I had to do something. I had to find a way to fix this, for my dad’s sake and mine.

Advertisement
I couldn’t sleep that night. Tom’s betrayal kept playing over and over in my mind. How could he lie like that and pretend nothing happened? He was ready to throw away our marriage and accuse my dad of something so awful. I knew I had to take action. I had to protect my dad and get his money back.

Then, an idea hit me. It was a little crazy, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I decided to fake a pregnancy. Tom would never want to pay child support for the next eighteen years, so maybe he’d settle for a one-time payment to make things right.

The next morning, I called my dad. “Dad, I have a plan, but it’s a bit… unconventional,” I said, hesitating.

“Sweetheart, I’m listening,” he replied. His voice was gentle but concerned.

“I’m going to pretend I’m pregnant. I think it’s the only way to make Tom pay us back.”

There was a pause. Then he said, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Dad. He needs to learn a lesson, and I need to get your money back.”

He sighed but agreed. “Okay. I trust you. Just be careful.”

I borrowed a positive pregnancy test from a friend who was expecting and practiced my story. I rehearsed how I’d tell Tom the “news” and imagined his reaction. I had to make it convincing. I had to be strong. This wasn’t just about the money anymore; it was about standing up for myself and my family.

A few days later, I called Tom and asked to meet at my parents’ house. “We need to talk,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He agreed, though I could hear the suspicion in his tone. My dad and I sat at the kitchen table, waiting. The air was thick with tension when Tom walked in.

“What’s this about?” he asked, looking annoyed.

“Sit down, Tom,” I said calmly. “We have something important to discuss.”

He hesitated, then took a seat across from us. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

His face went white. “What? No, you can’t be serious.”

I nodded and pulled out the positive pregnancy test. “This is real, Tom. I’m going to have a baby.”

He stared at the test, his mouth hanging open. “But… but how?”

I almost laughed at that. “You really have to ask that question?”

He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “This changes everything.”

“Yes, it does,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “If you don’t want to pay child support for the next eighteen years, we need to settle this now.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I want $50,000, Tom. You pay that, and we go our separate ways. No child support, no contact. Just done.”

“Fifty thousand? Are you insane?” he shouted.

I leaned forward, keeping my voice low and calm. “That’s $30,000 you owe my dad, plus interest. It’s more than fair, Tom.”

He looked at my dad, then back at me. “This is blackmail!”

“No, Tom. This is me giving you an easy way out,” I replied firmly. “You have a week. If I don’t have the money by then, I’m going to a lawyer.”

He was shaking, sweat forming on his forehead. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

“You have one week,” I repeated. “Take it or leave it.”

For the next few days, Tom was a wreck. He called me several times, trying to negotiate, but I didn’t budge. “It’s $50,000 or nothing, Tom,” I told him every time. I heard from mutual friends that he was scrambling to get the money together. He even tried to borrow from some of his buddies, but no one wanted to lend him that much.

On the seventh day, he showed up at my parents’ house. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and rumpled clothes. He shoved an envelope into my hands. “Here. It’s everything I could get.”

I opened it and counted the money. It was all there. I looked up at him and said, “Thank you. Now we’re done.”

He nodded, not saying another word. He turned and walked out the door. I found out later he left town that night, cutting all ties and disappearing without a trace.

As I sat there holding that envelope, I felt a mix of emotions — relief, a sense of justice, and maybe a little guilt for what I’d done. But mostly, I felt proud. I stood up for myself and my family. I protected my dad, and I showed Tom that we weren’t to be messed with.

And as for the fake pregnancy? I chuckled to myself. Let’s just say that’s a trick I don’t plan on using again anytime soon.