When I first met Sam, I knew he was the one. Our love was perfect, and even his parents seemed to accept me despite their upper-class status. Wealth never mattered to me; I was determined to be an independent woman and make my own money.
The only drawback was their tough and sometimes nasty characters, especially towards serving people. Though it bothered me, they promised to tone it down, and I believed them. The wedding day was a dream, and we were the happiest couple.
Two days later, we hosted a dinner for my in-laws, and I took charge of cooking and serving everything. As they arrived, they presented us with a bottle of wine and a set of cooking utensils. Nice, I thought.
Little did I know that this was just the beginning. While Sam engaged his dad in a work-related discussion, I took the chicken from the oven. That’s when my mother-in-law, Janine, dropped a bombshell, asking, “Do you wanna serve this for our lunch?
It looks really bad and smells the same. “I was stunned, unsure how to react. At that moment, my father-in-law joined us, and she immediately switched to a sweet tone, praising my cooking.
The sudden change left me perplexed. Confused by her behavior, I wondered if something was wrong. Was there an underlying problem?
The next day, she invited me to their home. I anticipated an apology, but she requested help with ironing and organizing clothes due to supposed back pain. I agreed, but after working for hours, I observed her playing with their dog, showing no signs of discomfort.
It started to bother me more and more. The situation escalated when she called me at work, insisting I bring her lunch. Occupied in a meeting, I refused, but her persistent calls continued.
After the meeting, I reluctantly took her lunch, only to face her anger. She accused me of being late, shouting, “I called you three hours ago. I’m starving!” Frustrated, I retorted, asking about Ursula, their maid.
To my shock, she widened her eyes and said, “Honey, I fired her. Why do I need to pay someone money if I have you?”
“But I’m not your maid, Janine.” “Oh, yes, you are my girl! Didn’t you know about that?” “About what?” “That you have to listen to me unquestioningly?” she said.
“Who said this?” I asked, looking at her incredulously. “I’m saying so. Now.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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