My mother-in-law poured something strange into my drink when she thought I wasn’t looking, I swapped glasses with her husband and then…

My mother-in-law poured something strange into my drink when she thought I wasn’t looking. Special cocktail for my favorite son-in-law, she said with a smile. I thanked her and discreetly switched glasses with her husband, who always criticized my career.

Forty-five minutes later. My name is Julian Mercer, 32 years old, independent photographer based in Asheville, North Carolina. I’ve built my business from nothing, weddings, wildlife, magazine spreads, the kind of work that pays the bills if you’re good at it.

And I am. But to my in-laws, especially Diane, what I do has never been enough. How’s the little photography hobby? Gerald would ask at family dinners, not even trying to hide his disdain.

He was an investment banker, the kind of man who measured success in square footage and stock options. Every Sunday dinner at their house was the same. Diane would fuss over her daughter while Gerald interrogated me about my finances.

My wife Haley would squeeze my hand under the table, a silent apology for her parents. I’d been shooting a wildlife assignment in Montana all week, trudging through knee-deep snow to photograph bison for National Geographic. I was exhausted, but Haley insisted we couldn’t miss her mother’s birthday dinner.

Just a couple hours, she promised. I should have listened to that knot in my stomach when Diane cornered me in the kitchen, the way her eyes darted around before she handed me that drink, the slight tremor in her fingers as she said, I made it special, just for you. Something wasn’t right.

I just didn’t know how wrong it was about to get. Haley and I met six years ago at an art exhibition where my work was featured. She was finishing her master’s in environmental science, and I was just starting to make a name for myself.

We connected instantly. She understood my need to capture the world through a lens, and I admired her passion for protecting it. Her parents were another story….