I’ve never been petty, but sometimes life hands you opportunities for revenge that are just too perfect to pass up.
Looking back, I should’ve known something was fishy when my mother-in-law’s eyes lit up at the sight of our Batman costumes in the department store that day.
“Oh, how creative,” she’d said, smiling as brightly as her most recent Botox treatment would allow. “The boys must be thrilled.”
She’d fingered the fabric of Kael’s cape with perfectly manicured nails, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Though perhaps something more… sophisticated might better suit Celeste’s Halloween gathering?”
I barely contained my sigh. This was typical Helen, always finding something to criticize about Zane and me.
When we started dating, I didn’t know my husband Zane came from old money. He’d chosen to open an auto repair shop instead of joining the family finance firm, which basically made him the black sheep.
His family didn’t approve of me at first. Honestly, I didn’t approve of them either, with their haughty attitudes and complex social rules, but I learned to live with it after Zane and I got married.
“The boys picked the costumes out themselves,” I’d replied to Helen that day, straightening my spine. “And they’re over the moon about it. And the kids’ happiness is what’s important, right?”
“Mmm,” she’d hummed, that familiar look of disappointment clouding her features. “Well, I suppose that’s… sweet.”
I clenched my teeth into a smile. “It is. You should’ve seen how excited Rory was when he first suggested it.”
It was my eldest boy’s idea to dress as a Batman family. He’d burst into the kitchen after school, backpack still bouncing against his shoulders, eyes bright with excitement as he announced the idea.
Zane had walked in just then, grease still smudged on his cheek from working on a car. “That’s actually perfect, buddy. What do you think, Selene?”
“Can we, Mom? Please?” Kael had chimed in, bouncing on his toes. “We could be the strongest family ever!”
I agreed instantly. The boys’ enthusiasm was infectious, and honestly, we needed some family joy after months of dodging not-so-subtle digs about everything from our “quaint” lifestyle to Zane’s chosen profession.
Just last week, Celeste had commented at a family dinner how brave it was of me to shop at regular department stores instead of her preferred boutiques.
And you know what Zane’s father said when he opened his fourth location? “At least you’re consistent in your choices, son.”
So yeah, we were desperate for a little fun.
The night of Celeste’s Halloween party, the boys were practically vibrating with excitement, their black capes fluttering in the fall breeze. Professionally carved pumpkins lined the driveway, each one probably costing more than our entire Halloween budget.
“Look at all the decorations!” Kael gasped, pointing at the elaborate display. “They even have fog machines!”
“And look at those skeletons at the guesthouse!” Rory added, his eyes wide at the professionally-lit landscaping.
That’s when I saw Celeste standing at the top of the marble steps in an identical, but clearly designer, Batwoman costume. Her husband Arthur wore what had to be a movie-quality Batman suit, and their son matched in miniature.
The fabric of their costumes caught the light in a way ours didn’t, and Celeste’s cape seemed to float perfectly as she stepped down to meet us.
My stomach dropped. Beside me, I felt Zane tense.
“Oh my,” Celeste’s voice dripped honey-coated venom as we approached. “What an unfortunate coincidence.” She adjusted her perfect hair, the diamond bracelet at her wrist catching the light. “Though I must say, the resemblance between our costumes is rather… loose.”
“Celeste—” Zane started, his jaw tight.
“You see,” she cut him off, gesturing to the gathering crowd of guests behind her, “we simply can’t have two Batman families at the party. It would confuse the guests.”
Her perfect red lips curved into a predatory smile. “You’ll either need to go home and change, wear something from our spare clothes, or…” She waved a manicured hand dismissively. “Head out.”
Arthur stood behind her, trying to hide his smirk behind a champagne flute. Their son, Oliver, stared at my boys with that same superior expression I’d seen so often on Celeste’s face.
I felt Rory’s small hand slip into mine, trembling slightly. Kael pressed against Zane’s leg, his earlier excitement deflating like a punctured balloon. That’s when something in me snapped.
Eight years of subtle jabs, of watching my husband’s achievements being dismissed, of seeing my children’s joy dimmed by their aunt’s constant need for superiority, all crystallized into a moment of perfect clarity.
“Actually,” I said, squeezing Rory’s hand and injecting every ounce of enthusiasm I could muster into my voice, “we’re going on an adventure instead. Right, boys?”
“But Mom—” Kael started, his lower lip trembling.
“Trust me,” I said over my shoulder.
“This is going to be way better than some stuffy party. How does the Halloween festival downtown sound? I heard they have a bouncy house shaped like a haunted castle.”
Zane caught my eye, and I saw the same fire there that I felt burning in my chest. He wrapped an arm around Kael’s shoulders. “Your mom’s right. Who wants to hit up the festival? I bet they have better candy than Aunt Celeste’s fancy party anyway.”
“Really?” Rory’s eyes lit up slightly. “Can we get our faces painted?”
“Absolutely,” Zane grinned. “We can get whatever you want.”
The festival turned out to be magical. We played games, got our faces painted with elaborate superhero masks, and took about a million photos. Rory won a giant stuffed bat at the ring toss, and Kael managed to bob for three apples in a row.
Zane bought us all hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and we watched a local theater group perform spooky skits.
“This is way better than Aunt Celeste’s party,” Kael declared, chocolate smeared across his chin. “Way, way better.”
The next day, my phone rang.
It was Lila, who’d catered Celeste’s party. We’d become friends over the years, bonding over our shared status as “outsiders” in the Preston social circle.
“Selene, you’re not going to believe what I overheard,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Celeste was bragging about the whole thing. She bought those costumes specifically to kick you out!”
“What?” I gripped the phone tighter, sinking onto the sofa.
“She told Arthur, and I quote, ‘Finally, I put that brat and her little brats in their place.’ And he laughed! Called you guys a ‘discount superhero act.'” Lila paused, her disgust evident. “There’s more.”
I sighed. “Let me have it, Lila.”
“Celeste called you a circus act and said, ‘At least now everyone knows exactly where they stand in this family.'”
The pieces clicked into place.
My mother-in-law’s reaction to our costumes, the setup, and the humiliation had all been a calculated attack on my family, using my children’s joy as ammunition.
“Thanks, Lila,” I said quietly, my mind already racing with possibilities. “I appreciate you telling me. Celeste is not going to get away with this.”
Two days later, I stood in front of the billboard I’d rented across from Celeste’s estate. Our family photo from the festival beamed down at the street, showing all of us in our “discount” costumes, faces painted, completely joy-filled.
The best part was the text above it: “The Real Super Family: No Villains Allowed.”
The town gossip mill exploded. Texts and calls poured in, some subtle, others openly gleeful about Celeste’s costume scheme backfiring. Memes started making the rounds on social media.
Even Arthur’s mother called it “deliciously appropriate” at her weekly bridge club. The local coffee shop started serving a “Super Family Special” of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
Zane found me in the kitchen that evening, staring at my phone as another supportive message came through. This one from his father’s secretary, of all people.
“You know,” he said, grinning at me with a glint in his eyes, “I’ve never been prouder to be married to a superhero.”
I leaned back against him, watching Rory and Kael play superheroes in the backyard through our kitchen window. “Someone had to stand up to the villains.”
“Mom! Dad!” Rory called from outside. “Come play with us! I’m Batman, and Kael’s Spider-Man now!”
“That’s not how it works!” Kael protested. “We can’t mix superhero worlds.”
“We can in our family,” Rory declared. “We make our own rules!”
We joined our boys in the yard, capes flying, our laughter echoing off the fence.
At that moment, I realized something important: Celeste might have designer costumes and a mansion, but we had a family that was actually super, not just playing dress-up.
