I’m Zoe, 25, and baking is my world. When my brother and his fiancée asked me to make their wedding cake, I gave it my all, expecting payment. They betrayed me, but Grandma’s sharp justice taught them a lesson and showed me my worth.
Baking is my passion, now my job at a bakery. My dad called it a “hobby,” saying, “You’ll struggle financially.” But my family backed me, slipping me gifts for bakes—flowers, cash, support. When my brother, Liam, 23, got engaged to Emma, I worried. “They’re too young,” I told Mom over dinner. “Emma’s high-maintenance.” She agreed but said, “Liam loves her. Let’s trust them.” I did, for Liam. Their wedding was all glitz and plans. They wanted my cake. “It’s three tiers for 75,” I said. “I’ll do it at home for $400, not the bakery’s $1200.” Liam nodded. “We’ll pay, Zoe.” I set up a tasting, covering costs. “Choose your flavor,” I said. Emma smirked. “I thought you’d pick.” I smiled, hiding my annoyance, and prepped a lovely tasting.
They picked the coconut mango cake. “It’s amazing,” Liam said. Emma agreed, and I felt proud, hoping this would unite us. I shared designs, baked for days, and finished the cake on their wedding day—three tiers of creamy bliss. I delivered it, beaming. They thanked me, but no money came. At the reception, Liam said, “You’re charging family?” I replied, “This was work, Liam.” Emma purred, “It’s a gift, Zoe. Be nice.” I was shocked. Grandma Clara, regal and fierce, overheard. During speeches, she stood, glass raised. “I planned a Bali honeymoon for Liam and Emma,” she said. The crowd roared, but she stopped. “Generosity deserves respect. I’m reconsidering.”
The room stilled. Grandma eyed me, then the cake. “Family values family,” she said, sitting. Liam found me later, envelope in hand. “Here’s $500,” he said. “Emma pushed the gift idea, but it felt off.” I took it. “You assumed I’d let it go,” I said. He looked guilty. Emma approached, her charm fake. “We didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “You mocked my work,” I replied. “That’s why it hurts.” She flinched. At dessert, Grandma said, “Generosity isn’t free. Disrespect it, and I’ll cut trust funds.” She told me, “No more free bakes, Zoe. Use your trust fund for culinary school.” Liam texts now. Emma shares my posts. At their cookout, Emma gave me a gift card, saying, “Your pies were nice.” It was respect, not warmth, and that’s okay.
