My Father-In-Law Told My Boss I Lied About Being Sick. What I Did In Return Made Him Regret It Immediately

I was curled up in bed, battling a migraine so intense I could barely open my eyes, when a knock came at the door. To my shock, it was a company specialist sent to “check” if I was really sick. Turns out, someone had anonymously called my boss and accused me of lying about my illness. That someone was my father-in-law. He’s never liked that I’m the main earner in our household, clinging to his outdated belief that men should bring home more. But this time, he crossed a line he couldn’t come back from. When I found out what he did, I made sure he’d regret it—and this morning, he was the one calling me in panic.

I lay in bed, my head feeling like it was about to split open. After three nights of no sleep, my migraine was nuclear—throbbing eyes and a twisted stomach. I couldn't even think straight. All I wanted was for the pain to stop so I could get some rest. Calling in sick wasn't a choice; it was a necessity. I needed to recover before going back to my busy job.

Picking up the phone felt like lifting a ton. I called my boss, Diane, to let her know I was taking a sick day. 'Take all the time you need,' Diane said warmly. It was such a relief. My husband, Mike, tiptoed around our home, making sure the curtains were shut tight. He knew I needed darkness and quiet to ride out this migraine storm.

The house was blissfully silent when a sudden knock at the door startled me. It was loud and sure, breaking the quiet cocoon I was in. Glancing at the clock, I squinted through the pain—it was just 10 a.m. Who could it be? Curiosity and annoyance both tugged me out of bed as I staggered to the door, trying my best to think clearly.

Standing there was a man with a clipboard, wearing a jacket sporting the company logo. 'I'm here for the wellness verification,' he said in a tone that was nothing but business. Confusion washed over me. 'What? I didn’t ask for this,' I replied, squinting at him through the harsh beam of daylight flooding in. It seemed absurd, like some bad sitcom, but this was my reality.

'We received an anonymous concern regarding false sick leave,' the man explained, as if reciting a script. My stomach lurched as his words echoed in my head. I felt a wave of nausea hit, fueled by both the migraine and rising fury. How could anyone question my illness when I felt like this? I struggled to keep my composure, nodding through the suspicion.

After signing a document I barely read, I leaned against the door with the pen still clutched in my hand. My strength was gone. As the door clicked shut, I let out a shaky breath. Relief quickly morphed into dread when Diane's name flashed on my phone. As I answered, her usual warmth was replaced by something distant and cold that made my heart sink.

'I need to ask—were you really sick yesterday?' Diane’s voice was cautious but firm on the other end. I froze, feeling boxed in. 'Of course I was,' I replied, the throbbing in my head a harsh reminder. 'You saw me struggling the other day.' Her pause was heavy, pregnant with doubt and an unsettling new distance that stung more than I cared to admit.