My MIL Put Spyware in My Phone — She Didn’t Like My Surprise in Response
Living with my mother-in-law has been a nightmare. But when she insisted on fixing my broken phone, I thought it was a small step toward mending our strained relationship. Little did I know that her helpful gesture would lead to a shocking discovery that forced me to confront her schemes and ultimately redefine our household’s boundaries.
A woman and her mother in law arguing | Source: Pexels
My life has been hell ever since my Mother-In-Law (MIL) moved in with me and my husband. My name is Emily, 25, and I have been married to my husband Andrew, 28, for five years now. We stay with my MIL, Sophia, who moved in with us due to ill health about three years ago.
From the day I married her son, she made it clear that she thought I wasn’t good enough for him. Our relationship was strained at best, and we did our best to stay out of each other’s paths to keep the peace at home.
Two women who are not getting along | Source: Vecteezy
Now, a few months ago, I broke my phone, and my MIL, who was watching me closely on that day, had a whole rant about how “irresponsible I was” and how I should act “more mature.” Sophia complained incessantly about the cost of fixing the phone, grumbling about how much money I was wasting and how this could have been avoided if I had been more careful.
A mother-in-law repremanding her son’s wife | Source: Pexels
Yet, despite her constant complaints, she was surprisingly adamant about taking my phone to get it fixed herself since she stayed at home. I was a bit confused about why she wanted to go so badly, but I just let her go, as I thought she was making a kind gesture to bring us close. She came back with my phone fixed, and everything seemed normal.
A woman using her working phone | Source: Pexels
Fast forward two months, I noticed how my phone started to act weird. I asked Sophia if she had taken it to a reputable technician. “Of course,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I took it to the best place in town.”
“I’m asking because the phone has been acting really weird,” I explained.
Sophia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You’re being dramatic, Emily. It’s probably just your imagination.”
A woman trying to figure out what is wrong with her phone | Source: Vecteezy
I decided to leave the matter alone but at work weird data-like things kept popping up on its screen, making it almost impossible for me to use the phone. So, after work, I took the phone to the local tech support kiosk.
To my SHOCK, the tech support guy opened it up and said, “Someone put a chip in your phone.”
I blinked, trying to process his words. “A chip? What do you mean?”
A woman with her phone that is giving her problems | Source: Pexels
He pointed at a small, unfamiliar piece of hardware. “This chip allows someone to see your messages, your location, and your emails. It’s a form of spyware.”
My heart raced. “Are you serious? Who would do this?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but it must be someone who had access to your phone for a while.”
A spyware transmitting data and information | Source: Vecteezy
The only person who could do it was Sophia since my husband worked in another city for three months. I was mad as HELL and as I left the shop, I quickly formulated a plan.
In my mind, I thought, ‘She wants to spy on me? Okay, then I’ll give her something to see.’ So, I decided to leave the chip in my phone.
A woman plotiing | Source: Pixabay
I started signing up for adult shops, videos, and other 18+ content. Then, I began driving to men’s clubs and sending explicit messages to my husband, all while knowing my MIL was watching every move. My MIL became increasingly annoying but she couldn’t say anything specific about what was happening.
An annoyed woman | Source: Vecteezy
When my husband came back, my MIL set us at the table and began accusing me of cheating and all the things she had seen.
“I can’t believe this, Emily!” Sophia started, her face flushed with anger. “I’ve seen the messages you’ve been sending to strange men! And the places you’ve been visiting! Adult shops? Men’s clubs? How could you do this to my son?”
A mother-in-law making accusations | Source: Vecteezy
Andrew looked bewildered. “What are you talking about, Mom?”
Sophia continued, her voice rising. “I’ve seen it all on her phone! Explicit messages, shady locations, and subscriptions to all sorts of adult content. She’s been betraying you, Andrew!”
“How do you know all this?” I asked calmly.
She hesitated, then blurted out, “I saw it on your phone! There’s a chip that… well, it shows everything you’re doing!”
A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
I feigned shock. “A chip? In my phone? How could that happen?” I exclaimed, widening my eyes in disbelief. “Who would do such a thing? This is outrageous! How did it even get there?”
My MIL’s face turned red. “I… I put it there to keep an eye on you. I knew you were up to something! I knew you were not good enough for my son. A liar and a cheat!”
An accusing finger | Source: Pixabay
I smirked a hint of satisfaction in my voice. “Oh, I knew about the chip. And I decided to have some fun with it. You wanted to spy on me? I gave you a show.” I leaned in slightly, my eyes glinting with defiance. “Every adult shop, every explicit message, every shady location—you saw exactly what I wanted you to see. How does it feel to be played at your own game?”
A woman smirking with satisfaction | Source: Pixabay
My husband looked between us, stunned. “You both knew? What the hell is going on?”
My MIL stammered, “She was… she was doing all those things on purpose?”
I nodded, laughing. “Yes. To show you that spying on someone is wrong. You invaded my privacy, and I wanted you to see how it feels to be manipulated.”
A woman laughing with satisfaction | Source: Pixabay
My husband finally spoke, his voice firm. “Mom, this is unacceptable. You can’t just spy on people. We need to have boundaries in this house.”
My MIL, looking defeated, muttered, “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“Apology accepted,” I said, “but from now on, let’s respect each other’s privacy. Agreed?”
Mother-in-law and her son’s wife reconclie | Source: Vecteezy
My MIL nodded reluctantly, and my husband added, “We’ll make sure this never happens again.”
And with that, the tension began to dissipate, and we started to rebuild trust, setting clear boundaries for the future.
I Opened My Garage to a Homeless Woman—You Won’t Believe What I Found When I Walked In Unannounced
When a rich man, who feels emotionally distant, gives shelter to Lexi, a homeless woman, he becomes intrigued by her strength. Their unexpected friendship starts to grow—until one day he walks into his garage without knocking and finds something shocking. Who is Lexi really, and what is she hiding?
I had everything money could buy: a big house, fancy cars, and more wealth than I could ever use in a lifetime. Yet, inside, I felt an emptiness I couldn’t fill.
I had never had a family since women always seemed to want me only for the money I got from my parents. At sixty-one, I often wished I had made different choices.
I tapped the steering wheel absentmindedly, trying to shake off the familiar weight on my chest. That’s when I spotted a messy woman bent over a trash can.
I slowed the car, unsure why I even bothered. People like her were everywhere, right? But there was something about the way she moved, her thin arms digging through the garbage with a grim determination that tugged at something inside me.
She looked fragile but fierce, like she was holding on to life by sheer willpower.
Before I knew it, I had pulled over. The engine hummed as I rolled down the window, watching her from the safety of my car.
She looked up, startled. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might run. But she didn’t. Instead, she straightened up, brushing her hands on her faded jeans.
“Do you need some help?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to me. I wasn’t the kind of person to talk to strangers or invite trouble into my life.
“You offering?” There was a sharpness in her voice, but also a tiredness, like she’d heard every empty promise before.
“I don’t know.” The words tumbled out before I could think. I stepped out of the car. “I just saw you there, and it didn’t seem right.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on mine. “What’s not right is life.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And cheating, no-good husbands in particular. But you don’t seem like someone who knows much about that.”
I winced, even though I knew she was right.
“Maybe not.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Do you have a place to go tonight?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting away for a second before locking back onto mine. “No.”
The word hung in the air between us. That was all I needed to hear.
“Look, I have a garage. It’s more like a guest house. You could stay there until you get back on your feet.”
I expected her to laugh in my face, to tell me to go away. But instead, she blinked at me, the edges of her tough exterior starting to crack.
“I don’t take charity,” she said, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.
“It’s not charity,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “It’s just a place to stay. No strings attached.”
“Okay. Just for a night,” she replied. “I’m Lexi, by the way.”
The drive back to my house was quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
When we arrived, I led her to the garage-turned-guest-house. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for someone to live in.
“You can stay here,” I said, pointing to the small space. “There’s food in the fridge, too.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Over the next few days, Lexi stayed in the garage, but we saw each other for meals. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her pulled at me.
Maybe it was how she kept going despite everything life threw at her, or perhaps the loneliness in her eyes, which mirrored my own. Maybe it was just the simple fact that I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
One night, as we sat across from each other at dinner, she began to open up.
“I used to be an artist,” she said softly. “Well, I tried to be. I had a small gallery, a few shows… but it all fell apart.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Life happened. My husband left me for a younger woman he got pregnant and kicked me out. My whole life unraveled after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It’s in the past.”
But I could tell it wasn’t, not really. The pain was still there, just below the surface. I knew that feeling all too well.
As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to our conversations.
Lexi had a sharp wit and a biting sense of humor that cut through the gloom of my empty house. Slowly, the hollow space inside me seemed to shrink.
It all changed one afternoon. I had been rushing around, trying to find the air pump for one of my cars. I barged into the garage without knocking, expecting to grab it quickly and leave. But what I saw stopped me cold.
There, spread across the floor, were dozens of paintings. Of me.
Or rather, grotesque versions of me. One painting showed me with chains around my neck, another with blood pouring from my eyes. In the corner, there was one of me lying in a casket.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. This was how she saw me? After everything I’d done for her?
I backed out of the room before she noticed me, my heart pounding.
That night, as we sat down for dinner, I couldn’t shake the images from my mind. Whenever I looked at Lexi, all I could see were those horrific portraits.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lexi,” I said, my voice tight. “What are those paintings?”
Her fork clattered to the plate. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw them,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. “The paintings of me. The chains, the blood, the coffin. What the hell is that?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see those,” she stammered.
“Well, I did,” I said coldly. “Is that how you see me? As some monster?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. “I was just… angry. I’ve lost everything, and you have so much. It wasn’t fair, and I couldn’t help it. I needed to let it out.”
“So you painted me like a villain?” I asked sharply.
She nodded, shame etched on her face. “I’m sorry.”
I sat back, letting the silence stretch between us. I wanted to forgive her. I wanted to understand. But I couldn’t.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said flatly.
Lexi’s eyes widened. “Wait, please—”
“No,” I interrupted. “It’s over. You need to leave.”
The next morning, I helped her pack her things and drove her to a nearby shelter. She didn’t say much, and neither did I. Before she stepped out of the car, I handed her a few hundred dollars.
She hesitated but then took the money with trembling hands.
Weeks passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. Not just because of the disturbing paintings, but because of what we had before. There had been warmth and connection — something I hadn’t felt in years.
Then, one day, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a painting, but this one was different. It wasn’t grotesque or twisted. It was a serene portrait of me, captured with a peace I hadn’t known I possessed.
Tucked inside the package was a note with Lexi’s name and phone number scrawled at the bottom.
My finger hovered over the call button, my heart beating faster than it had in years. Getting worked up over a phone call felt silly, but there was so much more riding on it than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed hard and hit “Call” before I could second-guess myself. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, like she sensed it could only be me.
I cleared my throat. “Lexi. It’s me. I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. I figured I owed you something better than… those other paintings.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Lexi. I wasn’t exactly fair to you, either.”
“You had every right to be upset.” Her voice was steadier now. “What I painted — those were things I needed to get out of me, but they weren’t really about you. You were just… there. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Lexi. I forgave you the moment I saw that painting.”
Her breath hitched. “You did?”
“I did,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t just the painting that had changed my mind; it was the feeling that I had let something meaningful slip away because I was too scared to face my pain. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we could talk. Maybe over dinner? If you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d really like that.”
We made plans to meet in a few days. Lexi told me she used the money I gave her to buy new clothes and get a job. She was planning to move into an apartment when she got her first paycheck.
I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having dinner with Lexi again.
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