My Mother-In-Law, Backed by My Husband, Wanted a Share of My Business — Their Family Regretted It…

My Mother-in-Law, Backed by My Husband, Wanted a Share of My Business — Their Family Regretted It…
@LifeStoriesDestinies

"You owe us—hand over half," my mother-in-law sneered, demanding a cut of my business. "Just give her a cut," my husband muttered. Days later, she showed up smug—expecting contracts. I smiled and handed her an envelope. She read it — and exploded. "You ungrateful little…"
I own a small but very successful bakery in Savannah, Georgia. I built it from scratch. I didn't inherit it. No one handed it to me. I spent years perfecting recipes, saving every spare penny, and putting in 70-hour weeks to make it happen. The shop finally took off about three years ago, and it's been thriving ever since. People travel from other states to try our stuff. We've been featured in local magazines. It's my pride and joy. I don't have kids, so, in a way, this is my baby. Then I married Adam.
Adam was nice when I met him—steady, kind of quiet, supportive. He worked as an accountant, and on paper we made a good match. But I noticed after the wedding that his mom seemed to think she married me too. Claudia is the kind of woman who acts like she's the queen of whatever room she's in—someone who's always talking over you, correcting you, and bringing up her poor health every time she's not the center of attention. You know the type.
At first, it was little things: back-handed comments about how I didn't dress like a successful business owner or how my bakery's décor was “cute, but not what I'd do.” Adam always told me to just ignore her—“She doesn't mean anything by it.” Then Claudia started showing up at the bakery. A lot. She'd sit in the corner with her friends, loudly critiquing the pastries, the service, the employees. One time she walked behind the counter and started rearranging things, saying she “just wanted to help.” I asked her politely not to go into staff areas. She laughed like I was joking.
But the worst came two months ago. Adam and I invited Claudia over for dinner. She showed up wearing this huge flashy necklace and carrying a bottle of wine she bragged cost more than our monthly mortgage. About halfway through the meal, she said—completely out of nowhere—“So, I've decided I should own half of your bakery.” I thought she was joking; I actually laughed. She wasn't laughing. She leaned back in her chair, smirked, and said, “You wouldn't have that business if you hadn't married my son. You owe us. You wouldn't have the time or the stability to run it without him handling the house and bills.”
That made my blood boil. Adam does some chores, sure, but I pay most of the bills. He works part-time now because he said my income meant he could finally relax a bit. I never complained; I thought that was part of being a team. So I looked at Adam, expecting him to shut this down. And do you know what he said? He said, “Maybe you should just give her something to keep the peace.”

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