When my fiancé Dave and I planned our wedding, we chose to pay for everything ourselves — no money from his wealthy, judgmental mother, Christine. I even decided to bake the wedding cake myself, despite her scoffing at the idea. “You’re baking your own cake?” she sneered. “What is this, a picnic?” But Dave believed in me. I poured weeks into perfecting a three-tier vanilla bean cake with raspberry filling and buttercream florals. The night before the wedding,

I assembled it with pride. The big day was magical. Guests raved about the cake, asking who had made it. But before I could answer, Christine grabbed the mic during the reception and announced she had made it. I was stunned. Later, Dave told me to let it go. “She’s about to regret it,” he said. The very next day,Christine called me in a panic — a socialite wanted to commission her for another cake. “I need your recipe,” she begged. “Oh,” I replied sweetly. “But I thought you made it?” Soon, her lie unraveled. The client called me instead. That order led to more, and soon I had a side business baking for high-end events — all thanks to the cake she tried to steal. By Thanksgiving,
Christine handed me a store-bought pie and mumbled, “Figured I shouldn’t lie about this one.” It wasn’t an apology, but it was a start.Some people may try to take credit for your work — but the truth, like a good cake, always rises.