The Day I Was Killed by My Mother-in-law

Because of her stinginess, my motherinlaw caused the death of my daughter and me.

On June 18th, she bought five boxes of expired milk just to meet the minimum spending requirement for a discount.

She picked the leftover ginger out of some food scraps and combined it with vegetable scraps from the kitchen sink to create a new dish.

I warned her that eating this would put us in the hospital, but she retorted, "You don't know how to manage finances at all! All the money in the house has been squandered by you!"

My husband chimed in, "Mom's just thinking of us. How can you curse her?"

Later, to save money on cleaning the range hood, she sought out a free cleaning service and brought strangers into our home.

That night, both my daughter and I were killed by someone hiding under the bed.

Yet, they took my inheritance and quickly married a beautiful wife.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her online milk shopping spree on June 18th.

I opened my eyes again.

A familiar voice rang in my ears.

"I got five boxes of expired milk again. If I spend the enough amount, I can get a fiftydollar coupon!"

"I just saved another fifty dollars!"

It was my motherinlaw's voice!

I looked in her direction.

She was waving her phone around in front of us, her face full of pride, as though she had just struck an enormous bargain.

Her gaze fell on me, laced with a hint of provocation.

"If only you could save money like I can, my son wouldn't have to work so hard every day!"

She snorted at me coldly and then took her honor—her shopping records—to brag, saying, "I saved my son fifty dollars again! Without my savings, my daughterinlaw would eventually bring the whole family to drink the northwest wind!"

I suppressed the hatred in my eyes and glanced at my husband.

He was still the same as in my past life, ignoring everything, nonchalantly playing on his phone.

I concealed my hatred and scoffed inwardly.

Of course he wouldn't care. The one forever nailed to the pillar of shame was me, and moreover, that expired milk would never be given to him by his mother.

She claimed it was "Angela needs milk to supplement her nutrition while still growing."

As a doctor, I repeatedly warned her that expired milk could easily cause issues.

Surprisingly, she listened and forbade my husband from drinking any, but all of it went into my daughter's backpack for her to secretly take to school and drink.

I forbade this, but they accused me of being too overprotective, claiming that girls are too delicate and difficult to raise.

"Angela has become spoiled because of you! Other kids can drink expired milk. Why can't she?"

"Your daughter is just like you. You're demanding too much for a child who lacks ability! If she were even a little like my son, she wouldn't be like this."

My husband even said that I was overreacting.

Under my strong insistence, they agreed to pour the milk out.

But while I was out, they secretly fed it to my daughter.

In the end, her trip to the hospital for gastric lavage cost five hundred dollars, and she nearly suffered a gastric perforation!

Yet they blamed me, claiming my poor genetics led to a frail child.

She even posted a picture of my daughter in the hospital on social media, stating, "My son ate everything when he was young and never got sick. My granddaughter needs gastric lavage just for drinking a bit of milk. What can I say? The daughterinlaw's genes aren't as good as mine. She can only give birth to a frail porcelain doll."

In the comments, their relatives attacked me vehemently.

"It's a shame she's a doctor. She can't even care for her own daughter. How can she be expected to take care of others?"

"Who would dare go to her for treatment in the future?"

Then somehow this post went viral. Public sentiment not only couldn't be controlled but instead spread even farther.

Under pressure, I was expelled from the hospital.

I shifted my gaze between the two of them.

They would never know the pain if the whip never struck them.

If all this expired milk went into her son's mouth, I wonder if she would still be so calm.

I continued to play on my phone, posting a tribute to my motherinlaw on social media.

"Who has a motherinlaw so good at saving money? Turns out, it's our family!"

It was accompanied by a screenshot of my motherinlaw's shopping records.

I praised her to the heavens, leaving her bewildered as she eagerly continued to buy, taking advantage of the discounts.

I even recommended a massage chair on sale to her.

Fearing she'd hesitate to spend her son's money, I showered her with flattery.

"Mom, you've worked so hard for this family all these years. David Foster often says he wants to let you enjoy a comfortable life."

"Why not take advantage of this offer and buy this massage chair? It's over a thousand dollars less than usual."

"When David sees you enjoying your life, he'll be thrilled!"

At first, she hesitated, worried about spending his son's money.

"Mom, the card linked to your social media is mine."

I noticed a subtle shift in her expression—it was rare to see this old lady pleased with me.

"I wasn't planning to buy it, but since you want me to enjoy myself, I'll buy it!"

She said this while opening the shopping app, and without any hesitation, picked the most expensive one, mumbling, "Expensive goods must have good reasons."

Then she shot me a glance, her brows furrowing with suspicion.

"You're not going to backtrack on this, are you?"

I glanced at the massage chair, noticing it didn't allow for returns without cause.

She would only be stingy when spending her son's money.

"Of course not."

I flashed her a sweet smile.

Because the money she was spending was fundamentally not mine.

She couldn't distinguish between payment methods, simply believing she was spending my money while her payment was tied to a default bank card.

So I couldn't be blamed for that.

Once home, David threw his bag on the sofa, rushed in front of me without changing his shoes, and stared at me angrily.

"What did you buy again? How come you've spent over ten thousand?"

I quietly watched television, casually turning my head to glance at him, "The only people in this house who know your bank card password are you and your mom, right?"

I didn't bother to see his reaction behind me.

I only heard him arguing with his mom in the kitchen.

The fiercer they fought, the happier I became.

"Diana Smith, didn't you say the family card linked to my social media was yours? Why am I spending my son's money?"

His mother rushed out of the kitchen with a spatula in hand, looking ready to lay blame.

I turned off the TV, pretending to be unaware, "You used your son's card to pay, so of course, you're spending your son's money."

She instantly became anxious. For a massage chair that cost over ten thousand, she could not let her son spend this money.

"Then you transfer this money to my son! I only bought it because you were the one who paid!"

She pounded her chest in frustration, looking like she was about to faint from anger.

I glanced at her and then at my husband, pretending to be helpless, "But I've already posted on social media, and everyone is praising David for being such a filial son. I can't just go now and rob him of the credit. Moreover, didn't you say you'd take Mom to travel the world once you earned money?"

I deliberately lowered my head, pretending to be confused, "Why are you so upset about buying a massage chair? You wouldn't be painting a grand picture for Mom, would you? If I'd known you couldn't bear to spend, I would have just bought it upfront."

The more I spoke, the more tightly David's brows furrowed.

I shook my head with a sigh, muttering, "Over next door, Anna and Linda's family bought one too, even a deluxe one worth twenty thousand! Mom has worked so hard that she doesn't even deserve a massage chair. What on earth is that about?"

My motherinlaw didn't hear the rest, but 'Anna and Linda have bought it' immediately caught her attention.

She flew into a rage, brandishing the spatula at David.

"Do you know how much I've saved for you at home? How can you even hesitate to buy me this little thing?"

Then she started to complain about how hard it had been to raise him all these years and how much suffering she had endured.

I stood by, fanning the flames.

He couldn't save face and had to take the silent blame.

But afterwards, he lowered the limit on his bank card.

The purchases finally arrived, and she dragged me to the delivery station to collect all the packages.

Her smile never faded. When we met an acquaintance on the way, she boasted about her prowess, "You see, I bought so many things for just two hundred. You all just know how to spend your sons' money, adding to their burden. Unlike me, who always calculates carefully."

At times like this, I would echo her sentiments, reinforcing her belief that her actions were justified.

Once home, I opened the milk.

"They're really foolish. This expired milk isn't as terrible as they say online. You are truly smart."

Flattered by my compliments, she quickly responded, "Of course!"

To completely dispel her doubts, I rushed over and opened the milk.

As she walked towards me while speaking, her frown deepened. "You spendthrift! This milk is for my son. He works hard. Why should you drink it?"

Seeing that I still hadn't put the milk down, she hurried over and snatched it from my hands, cradling it as if it were a treasure.

She gave the bad milk to my daughter and kept the good for her son.

I smiled but said nothing.

As the milk dwindled, my delight grew deeper.

To prevent her from feeding my daughter recklessly while I was away, I sent my daughter to my mom's place.

She never liked my daughter anyway. With one less mouth to feed at home, she naturally wouldn't object.

She probably wished for my daughter to leave permanently. If she never returned, she'd likely be even happier.

Thanks to my motherinlaw's daily feeding, my husband spent more time in the bathroom, constantly complaining of stomach pains.

He often writhed in bed with cramps, unable to sleep.

"It must be something you ate. Why not go see a doctor?"

I kindly suggested, but unexpectedly his mother jumped in, pointing at me and shouting.

There was even a lot of saliva left in the air from her mouth.

"I prepared all three meals a day for my son. You said he had a stomachache. You just want to say that the food I cook is not clean. Do you have to beat around the bush to say that?"

"I raised him myself. Do you think I don't know his health? You city folks are just so picky!"

While saying this, she pulled out a bottle of milk to "nourish" him.

I had warned him before, but good advice fell on deaf ears.

They insisted on selfsabotage. I could do nothing about it.

Later on, things escalated until he fainted at work and was sent to the hospital.

It was those expired milk that caused it!

I didn't know how much he drank. Now his face was pale.

Because of the delay, the doctor said he had developed a stomach ulcer due to acute gastroenteritis.

That was as expected.

In my previous life, I discovered my daughter's situation early enough to prevent such issues.

He dragged himself up from the hospital bed and stared fiercely at his motherinlaw, "Saving money? Is this what saving money looks like? To save fifty bucks now costs me a thousand in hospital bills! And now I'm suffering in the hospital for no reason!"

He wanted to continue but I quickly interrupted him, "How can you say that? Mom only wants what's best for you! If it weren't for wanting to nourish you, would she go buy milk?"

I used his own words from his previous life against him.

In the past life, when Angela lay in bed sick, he showed no concern. Instead, he defended his mother like this.

He didn't want to bear the label of being unfilial and fell silent for a moment.

But he still wanted to argue a bit more.

"But..."

Feigning impatience, I said, "What's there to 'but'? Mom didn't mean any harm. Do you want her to feel guilty? She may not have achievements but she has put in effort!"

I returned all his previous words back at him.

But when it came to himself facing such a situation, he seemed unable to be magnanimous.

"Diana, you troublemaker."

"You can say that because it's not happening to you! If it were you lying here instead of me, would you still say such things?"

His emotions flared up as his frail body couldn't handle it. He suddenly coughed twice.

I crossed my arms and leaned down to look at him.

"Of course I could. She's our mom."

I used his own words from his past life to shut him down completely.

My mouth is mine. I can say whatever I want.

"Besides, it's just a case of good intentions leading to bad outcomes. Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it? Aren't you always priding yourself on being a devoted son?"

He was caught off guard by my words and fell silent completely—only able to grind his teeth in frustration and swallow it down.

But his mother spoke up at an inopportune moment.

"It was your wife who said expired milk is fine to drink that made me give it to you."

David glanced at his mother and then at me with sharp eyes, waiting for my response.

Feigning surprise, I looked towards my motherinlaw, "Weren't you telling your friends that you bought expired milk for feeding dogs in the neighborhood? I meant dogs can drink this expired milk..."

I left the rest unsaid—the silence left ample room for imagination.