While we were living on her property, she kept everything in her name, including the utility bills, the lease, and even the mailbox.
Every month, she would remind us of how much we owed her, even though we gave her cash for everything. And if we ever disagreed with her?
She would weaponize it.
“I do everything for you,” she would say, voice dripping with disappointment. “And this is how you repay me?”
The day we packed our bags to leave, she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“You’ll regret this,” she said.
That was months ago. Now, as I sat in our new home, listening to Leo hum quietly while stacking his Legos, I felt something close to peace.
But then… There was a sharp knock at the door.
My heart skipped a beat.
For a split second, I imagined opening the door to my mother-in-law’s smirk.
But when I pulled it open, I found a man in a suit holding an envelope.
“Are you Sarah?”
I nodded.
“You’ve been served.”
My fingers trembled as I took the document. A lawsuit notice. A court summons.
My heart pounded against my chest as I skimmed the accusations: unpaid utility bills, property damage, unlawful departure.
She had found us.
But how?
We had done everything right.
We’d changed numbers and deleted social media.
We hadn’t told anyone where we were going. We’d cut her off completely.
Yet, somehow, Inga had found us.
I turned to Max, my hands clutching the papers. “She knows where we are.”
I showed Max the papers and watched his eyebrows furrow as he read them.
“It’s another power move,” he said.
“But this time, it’s going to be her last.”
A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat. “She’s suing us for her bills, Max. Bills that were always in her name.
How does she think she’s going to win this?”
Max exhaled sharply. “She doesn’t need to win. She just needs to make our lives miserable.”
And at that, she was succeeding.
I still remember how she told us not to go for a proper contract when we decided to move into her house.
“We’re family,” she said.
And now, she was suing the same family by lying that we didn’t pay her anything.
How could she stoop so low?
What was she even thinking?
A few days later, Leo came home from school looking pale and upset.
“Grandma came to my school today,” he said. “She said she missed me and wanted to talk, but I asked the teacher to tell her to leave.”
My blood turned to ice.
I dropped to my knees in front of him, gripping his shoulders. “She talked to you?”
Leo shook his head quickly.
“No. The teacher didn’t let her. But she saw me.
She waved at me from the gate.”
That night, Leo tossed and turned, mumbling in his sleep, trapped in another nightmare.
And I knew this was all because of Inga. This had to stop. I couldn’t let her ruin our lives anymore.
The following morning, I stepped outside to grab the mail.
And that’s when I learned about Inga’s final move.
Our mailbox had an electricity bill addressed to Max.
The date? After we had moved out of Inga’s house. She wanted us to pay for electricity we hadn’t even used.
I gripped the paper and stomped back into the house.
“She’s been running up charges in our name,” I told Max.
“This is fraud.”
Max exhaled. “All she wants is to make us look like we’ve committed a grave sin by moving out…”
That’s when I realized what Inga was doing wasn’t just about money. This was about control.
About dragging us into court and humiliating us.
But if she thought we were going to roll over and let her win, she was in for a surprise.
The day of the hearing arrived, and as we walked into the courtroom, I saw her sitting there.
She was ready for battle.
Soon, the performance began.
“I opened my home to them, I paid their bills, I took care of them… and they left me with nothing but ruin!” she sobbed theatrically, dabbing at dry eyes with a tissue.
I glanced at the judge. He wasn’t buying it.
But then Inga went for the kill.
She turned toward Leo and gasped dramatically. “My own grandson won’t even look at me now.
My heart is broken!”
That’s when Max’s hands clenched into fists. I guess he was done.
“Enough, Mom,” he spoke up. “You never paid for us.
You took our money, claiming it was for bills, but you never actually paid them. And you deliberately ruined our rental history.”
He turned to the judge. “And we can prove it.”
I took out the stack of papers.
The documents had a full record of every payment we had made.
It was proof that we had always given Inga the money for the bills she claimed to have paid.
There was also a police report from the day we moved out, documenting Inga’s threats.
And a copy of the new electricity bill dated after we left.
Inga wasn’t ready for this. Her eyes widened the moment she saw us submitting the documents.
“No! This isn’t fair!” she shrieked, scrambling to her feet.
“They lied! They manipulated everything! You can’t do this!”
The judge barely spared her a glance.
“Sit down, or you’ll be held in contempt.”
Inga’s chest heaved. “I took care of them! I gave them everything!
And this is how they repay me?!”
Max exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We don’t owe you anything. Not anymore.”
The judge’s verdict was swift.
Case dismissed.
And then? A formal warning against Inga for harassment.
Inga lost, and we won. But for some reason, it didn’t feel like a real win.
I guess that was because Inga still knew our address, and she could still show up to our house or go to Leo’s school to meet him.
The following day, I told Max something he wasn’t expecting.
“We’re moving. For good this time.”
“What?” he blurted out. “Moving again?”
“That’s the only way to ensure your mother stays away from us,” I said, picking up my phone.
I called our real estate agent and told him we needed to move somewhere else.
Somewhere far away from this place.
Three weeks later, we settled into a beautiful house in a quiet, welcoming neighborhood. Leo laughed more, slept better, and finally felt safe.
Max, too, seemed lighter, especially when he received an unexpected call from a top firm in the area with a brilliant job offer.
For the first time in years, I felt truly free. And this time, Inga had no way of finding us.
Sometimes, family isn’t about blood.
It’s about boundaries.
Sometimes, cutting off toxic people isn’t cruel. It’s survival.
You see, some people will never respect your peace, and when that happens, you have to choose yourself.
Source: amomama
