Because of her stinginess, my mother-in-law 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 fifty-dollar coupon!"

"I just saved another fifty dollars!"

It was my mother-in-law'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 daughter-in-law 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 daughter-in-law'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 mother-in-law on social media.

"Who has a mother-in-law so good at saving money? Turns out, it's our family!"

It was accompanied by a screenshot of my mother-in-law'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 mother-in-law 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.