A honeymoon is supposed to be a fresh start—just the two of you, celebrating love. But for Will and me, it turned into a battlefield.
The moment we stepped into our villa, we knew something was wrong. It wasn’t empty. Will’s parents—Cameron and Angie—were there, along with his brother Jason, lounging like they owned the place.
Will rarely talked about his parents, but when he did, his voice went cold.
“They kicked me out at sixteen,” he said once. “Said I was an ‘extra burden’ because my brother had a heart condition. My college funds went to Jason’s bills. They said I drained their capacity to care.”
I’d never heard such cruelty.
We invited them to the wedding, hoping for peace. Instead, Cameron sneered about Will’s job, Angie mocked me, and their coldness stabbed deeper than I imagined.
And then, the honeymoon.
They showed up uninvited, claiming the villa was “too big for just two.” Will’s jaw clenched—and then he smiled.
“That’s right. Stay as long as you want,” he said.
That night, we were cramped in the smallest room while they took the master suite.
The next day, Will made a few calls. Soon, Angie’s furious voice screamed, “You set us up!”
“I did,” Will replied coolly. “The resort is billing you $50,000 for the stay. You’re the ones enjoying it.”
They’d assumed we’d foot the bill—wrong.
We packed up, leaving them in a panic. Hours later, the villa manager texted: “They’ve left. All clear.”
We checked into a motel nearby, laughing at the chaos we’d caused.
As we watched the sunset from our new balcony, I asked, “Do you think they’ll ever change?”
Will shook his head. “No. But I have. I’m not that scared kid anymore.”
I smiled. “We have something they can’t take away—each other.”
He kissed me softly. “The best revenge? Living well. Together.”
“To living well,” I whispered.
“To living well,” he echoed,
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