My MIL called her private security and turned my husband against me

At my mother-in-law's anniversary party, my husband screamed across the entire ballroom, "Your appearance disgraces my family. Go wait in the car." He then ordered his security team to forcefully shove me into the sedan and lock the doors. In desperation, I pounded on the tinted glass, tears streaming down my face. But suddenly, the old driver turned around and said calmly, "Serena, please don't cry. Your father has finalized the paperwork. This car, the security detail, and the entire company are now yours. I'm awaiting your instructions. What should we do with your husband?
Hello. Please write in the comments where you're from. Don't forget to subscribe and like. Enjoy the listening.
But to understand how a simple music teacher found herself facing such a choice, we need to go back just one hour. The Grand Ballroom of Atlanta's most exclusive venue, the St. Regis Grand was filled with stifling opulence. Crystal glittered everywhere. Tables groaned under the weight of gourmet delicacies, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the fragrance of fresh liies. It was the 65th birthday celebration for Patricia Thorne, Marcus's mother. The city's entire elite had gathered here to pay their respects to a woman who considered herself the local queen of charity.
Serena Hawthorne stood near a column, trying to take up as little space as possible. She nervously smoothed the edge of her modest beige dress. She had sewn it herself, spending three nights straight at her sewing machine to save the family budget. Marcus always claimed the company was tight on cash and asked her not to spend money on new outfits. But now, looking at the wives of her husband's business partners, draped in designer gowns and dripping with diamonds, Serena felt pathetic and utterly out of place, she searched for her husband. Marcus Thorne, tall, polished, and in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, flitted from one group of guests to another. He laughed, shook the hands of important people, and beamed. For him, this evening was not just his mother's party. It was a showcase of his success.
Marcus noticed Serena and frowned. He stroed quickly toward her, painfully squeezing her elbow. "Why are you standing here like some poor relative?" He hissed into her ear, his strained smile still fixed for the guests walking by. "Get over to the main table. Mom's about to give her toast. And for God's sake, stop slouching. You're the CEO's wife, not a mouse from the seller." Serena nodded, swallowing her offense. She was used to it. In 10 years of marriage, she had learned that the most important thing to Marcus was appearances. She dutifully headed toward the main table where Patricia Thorne was already holding court. The birthday woman was in her element. In her deep burgundy velvet gown, she looked monumental. She accepted congratulations with the air of a monarch bestowing a favor. Serena took a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray just to give her trembling hands something to do. She wanted to approach and quietly wish her mother-in-law a happy birthday as etiquette required. Patricia, Serena began softly, taking a step forward. Happy birthday. Her mother-in-law spun around abruptly.
She did it with deliberate force, swinging her arms as if she hadn't noticed her daughter-in-law standing right next to her. Her heavy elbow slammed into Serena's arm. The champagne glass slipped from her fingers. The crash of broken glass silenced the hum of conversation. The music stopped instantly. The amber liquid spread across the polished hardwood floor. A few drops splashed onto the hem of Patricia Thorne's dress. A deathly silence fell over the room. All eyes, hundreds of them, focused on Serena. She froze, feeling the heat rise to her face. "Oh, for heaven's sake." Patricia sighed loudly for the entire room to hear, delicately brushing off her dress, even though the spot was microscopically small. "Well, of course. What else could I expect?" Marcus was instantly at her side. His face was blotched red, not with shame, but with fury. He saw his partners exchanging glances and their wives curling their lips. His perfect image had cracked. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't offer his wife a napkin. Instead, he exploded. "What the hell are you doing?" Marcus roared, making Serena's ears ring. "Are your hands made of stone? Did you intentionally try to ruin my mother's party?" "Marcus, she bumped me." Serena tried to defend herself, but her voice trembled. "Shut up!" he barked. "Stop making excuses. Look at you. You're a drab little mouse. All you know how to do is embarrass me. I dragged you out of the hood and you can't even hold a champagne glass. He grabbed her arm roughly like she was a criminal. Serena gasped in pain. Marcus dragged her away from the table right through the center of the ballroom.