When I inherited $500,000 from my late mother, I thought it would give me security. Instead, it gave my in-laws a reason to sink their claws into me. One request turned into another, until I realized they didn’t see me as family, but just a walking, talking piggy bank. I was done being their fool.
The day I lost my mother, I lost more than just a parent. I lost my anchor, my best friend, and my cheerleader. She was the woman who raised me single-handedly, who worked three jobs to put me through college, and who never complained even when life gave her every reason to…
“Promise me you’ll stand up for yourself, Helen,” she had whispered during our last conversation, her hand trembling in mine. “Promise me you won’t let anyone walk all over you.”
I promised. But I had no idea how soon I’d be tested on that promise.
They say money changes people. They’re wrong. Money doesn’t change people — it just REVEALS who they really are.
Before my mom passed, my in-laws barely tolerated me. My mother-in-law, Patricia, had a habit of finding “helpful” ways to point out my flaws. She’d make snide remarks about how I cooked, how I dressed, and even how I spoke. My father-in-law, Robert, was no exception. To him, I was merely an afterthought… someone who existed in his world but didn’t matter.
“Helen, dear,” Patricia would say during family dinners, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “you know, if you’d just add a pinch more salt to the gravy… But I suppose not everyone can cook like a REAL homemaker.”
And Jake, my dear husband, was neutral and passive. If his parents were the wind, he was a leaf.
But then, my late mom left me $500,000. And suddenly, I wasn’t just Jake’s wife anymore.
I was their personal ATM.
The first time they asked for money, it was so casual, you’d think they were borrowing sugar.
“Sweetheart, Robert’s car is just falling apart,” Patricia said over tea one day, shaking her head dramatically. “Poor thing can barely get to work.”
I frowned. “That’s a pain. Maybe we can help him find a good mechanic?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, actually, we were thinking… with your blessing, of course, we could use just a LITTLE of your inheritance to get him a reliable, used car.”
Jake, sitting beside me, gave me “the look.” The “just do it to keep the peace” look.