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.

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 mother-in-law'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 self-sabotage. I could do nothing about it.