I always knew Ryan’s mom wasn’t my biggest fan. From day one, she gave me that polite-but-fake smile you reserve for someone who just cut you off in traffic. I could feel her eyes sizing me up, her judgment tucked neatly behind tight-lipped pleasantries.

To her, Ryan was a grand prize—self-made, successful, the kind of man mothers brag about at brunch. And me? Just a teacher, raised by a single mom, no trust fund, no designer wardrobe. Not the glamorous jackpot she’d imagined for her only son.

But Ryan never cared. “I love you. Mom will come around. Just give her time.”

Time wasn’t helping. After years of awkward dinners, backhanded compliments, and her relentless comments about how “men used to like women with more… to offer,” I decided I’d had enough.

So I texted her: Hi Linda, it’s Jenna. I’d love to talk.

Hours later, a single-word response: Fine. Come over at six.

I knew exactly what she was thinking—probably expecting a pregnancy or elopement announcement. But I had something better.

When I arrived, she barely acknowledged the pastries I brought, leading me straight to the kitchen table. She sat down, her hands folded in that way people do when they’re preparing to say something they think you’re not ready to hear.

I beat her to it. “Linda, I’ll be honest. Ryan proposed. I said yes. He hasn’t told you yet because… well, he’s worried about how you’ll react.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tightening around each other. “And why would I be thrilled?” she asked. “I just think Ryan could… do better. Someone who matches his lifestyle. His future. You’re… well, you’re nice, but I expected something else for him.”

I met her gaze, steady and calm. “Exactly. That’s why I’m here. I want to make a deal.”

Her expression flickered. The look of someone who just realized they’re about to get exactly what they want—but at a cost.

I leaned in. “I’ll walk away. No drama, no messy breakup. But for that… I want $250,000.”

Silence.

She blinked, then scoffed, as if I had just asked her to fund my shopping spree. “You’re joking.”

I shook my head. “You want me gone? That’s my price. Ryan is ready to marry me. If I just leave, he’ll chase after me, and that won’t solve your problem. But if I disappear with no explanation, he’ll assume I had my doubts, and he’ll move on. You get what you want, and I get compensation for the time I wasted trying to earn your approval.”

I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She wasn’t appalled at the idea—she was calculating.

“I need to think about it,” she said, voice tight.

“Don’t take too long,” I said, standing. “If Ryan tells you himself before you decide, the offer’s off the table.”

I left her there, staring at the untouched pastries, knowing full well what she was going to do.

The next morning, I got a text: Come by at noon. Bring your account details.

When I arrived, she didn’t waste time. She handed me a check, the ink barely dry.

“I’ll expect you to leave quietly,” she said.

I nodded, tucking the check into my purse. “Of course.”

I walked out, got into my car, and drove straight to Ryan’s apartment, where he was waiting.

The second I stepped inside, I tossed the check onto the counter.

“She did it,” I said.

Ryan exhaled, staring at the proof in front of him. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. “Unbelievable.”

It had been his idea—this whole thing. He had suspected for months that his mother would never truly accept me, and he wanted to see just how far she’d go.

“I needed to know,” he had told me before we put this plan in motion. “If she actually respects my choices—or if she just sees me as some investment she can control.”

Well, now he knew.

We eloped that evening. No grand wedding, no speeches, no obligatory dinner with a woman who had just tried to buy me out of her son’s life. Just us, standing in a small chapel, saying the only vows that mattered.

And the money? It became our escape fund. The down payment on a home far away from Linda’s reach.

Ryan sent her a single text the next morning:

You paid Jenna to leave. She didn’t. We’re married. And you just funded our new life. Hope it was worth it.

She called—over and over. He never answered.

People say love is priceless. But in this case, it came with a check for a quarter-million dollars. And I’d say that’s the best deal I’ve ever made.

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