Days before Christmas, my husband Greg tossed a crumpled $50 bill at me.
“Here,” he said smugly. “Make a proper Christmas dinner. Don’t embarrass me in front of my family.”
I picked up the bill and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Greg, this won’t even cover a turkey, let alone a whole dinner for eight people.”
He shrugged, leaning casually against the fridge. “My mom ALWAYS managed. Be resourceful, Claire. If you’re not up for it – just say so. But I’ll have to tell my family not to expect much.”
I clenched my fists, but instead of snapping, I smiled sweetly. “Oh, don’t worry, Greg. I’ll make it work.”
For the next few days, I played the “dutiful wife,” but it was all part of my BIG REVENGE. I used my personal savings to prepare the most lavish Christmas dinner Greg’s family had ever seen.
On Christmas Eve, I transformed our dining table into something out of a holiday magazine. Candles flickered, a golden-brown turkey sat proudly in the center, surrounded by honey-glazed ham, buttery mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, cranberry sauce, and warm rolls. Homemade pies and cakes filled a side table. Greg’s family arrived, wide-eyed, gushing over the feast.
“Wow, Claire, this looks incredible!” his mother exclaimed. “Greg, you really married a talented woman.”
Greg puffed up his chest, smirking. “Well, I do push her to be resourceful. Told her to make something special, and she delivered.”
I bit my tongue, forcing a smile. He really had no shame.
Everyone ate, laughed, and praised my cooking. And then came dessert. That’s when the real surprise unfolded.
I stood up and tapped my glass. “I have a little story to share. You see, Greg was very generous with this Christmas dinner budget. He gave me this—” I pulled out the crumpled $50 bill and held it up for everyone to see, “—to feed all of you.”
The room fell silent. Greg’s smirk disappeared. His mother’s fork clattered onto her plate. His sister’s eyebrows shot up.
I continued, “Of course, I wanted to do my best, so I chipped in some of my own money. Because let’s be honest, $50 wouldn’t even cover a decent turkey. But Greg insisted that his mother had always managed, so I suppose she must have had some magic tricks I lack.”
Greg’s mother turned to him, frowning. “Greg, is this true? You only gave Claire $50?”
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Mom, I—”
But his sister interrupted, laughing sharply. “Wow. And here I thought you were the one paying for all this.”
His younger brother shook his head. “You let Claire do all the work and then took credit? That’s low, man.”
His mother pursed her lips. “Your father and I always made Christmas dinner together, Greg. We were a team. I never did it alone on a shoestring budget. I can’t believe you did this.”
Greg turned red, his hands clenching under the table. “I just thought—”
I cut him off, smiling sweetly. “Oh, but don’t worry. I have one last treat for everyone. Dessert!”
I went to the fridge and pulled out a beautiful cake. But this was no ordinary cake. Written in frosting across the top were the words: ‘Merry Christmas! Courtesy of Claire’s Personal Savings!’
Gasps and chuckles spread around the table.
Greg’s mother shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Claire. You didn’t deserve that.”
I sat back down, sipping my wine. “It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew how this beautiful dinner came to be. After all, Greg didn’t want to be embarrassed.”
Greg glared at me but couldn’t say a word. His family had already formed their opinions.
After dinner, his mother pulled me aside. “If you ever need anything, dear, you let me know. And if Greg doesn’t appreciate you, maybe it’s time you reconsider things.”
That night, as we cleared the table in silence, Greg finally spoke. “You humiliated me.”
I stacked plates, unfazed. “No, Greg. You humiliated yourself.”
He stormed out of the kitchen, and for the first time in years, I felt like I had won.
So now I ask you—if you were in my shoes, would you have done the same? Or would you have handled it differently?
