My fiancé and I planned our wedding without a dime from his wealthy parents. When I told them I’d bake our cake myself, my mother-in-law Christine laughed in my face. “What is this, a picnic?” she scoffed, offering to hire a high-end baker instead. We refused—this day was ours, not hers.I spent weeks testing recipes and practicing techniques until I created a stunning, three-tiered cake.
On the big day, guests were blown away by it—compliments poured in. But then Christine grabbed the mic and took full credit for my work. I was speechless, hurt, and furious.The next day, she called, panicked—someone wanted to order a cake from her. She begged me for the recipe and decorating tips, trying to save face. I reminded her she already “made” the cake and hung up.
