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My Daughter’s Birthday Gift Was a Death Note Novel Cover

My Daughter’s Birthday Gift Was a Death Note

At her daughter Nina’s birthday party, a mother’s pride is shattered by her mother-in-law's bitter insults. Dismissing the young girl's academic achievements as pointless, the matriarch hands over a shocking birthday gift: a red envelope stuffed with fake funeral money. When her husband tries to excuse his mother's cruel gesture as a long-term investment, the protagonist returns the cursed envelope, declaring it should be saved for his mother’s own final send-off.
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Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, Vincent's call came through.

"Kay, you froze my card?"

The background was loud.

Wanda was shouting, "It's all boxed up already, how can it not go through?"

I let out a short laugh.

"Your card?"

"Vincent, get one thing straight. I gave you that card for everyday emergencies, not so you could hand out prizes to your whole family."

Vincent's patience snapped.

"Don't blow this out of proportion."

"My mom and Howie got humiliated. What's wrong with buying them a few things to make it up to them?"

"Besides, a few thousand is nothing to you."

"You make so much a year. Do you really have to count every cent in front of family?"

I asked him, "If it's nothing, then buy it with your own salary."

Vincent had nothing to say to that.

His mother's voice came in at once from beside him.

"Vincent, why are you wasting words on her?"

"The money she earns is marital property. You spending her money is only natural!"

"Tell her to turn the card back on right now, and buy this bag too."

"If she won't back down today, you divorce her!"

Wanda chimed in from the side.

"Your wife just cares more about money than family."

"Your mom's getting on in years. What's the harm in a gold bracelet for her?"

I said, flat and calm.

"You're right, I do care quite a bit about money."

"So please transfer me what the bracelet and the tablet cost."

Wanda shut up immediately.

Vincent ground his teeth.

"Kay, are you set on wrecking this relationship?"

"I'm not the one wrecking it."

"And the fifty thousand you charged today, you have twenty-four hours to pay it back."

"By what right?"

"By the right that large purchases were made without the primary cardholder's consent. I can file a payment dispute, or I can just call the police."

Vincent's bluster dropped a notch on the spot.

"We're all family, why bring the police into it?"

"Turn the card back on first. We'll talk when we're home."

"Too late."

I didn't wait for him to say anything else. I hung up.

After the birthday dinner, my mother came home with me.

She watched Nina, asleep face-down on the couch, and suddenly asked, "How much longer do you plan to put up with it?"

My hands went still.

All these years, I'd rarely told my parents anything about the James family.

Every time my mother asked, I said things were fine.

Not because Vincent was actually any good to me.

It was that I couldn't bring myself to admit that the man I'd married against my parents' wishes couldn't protect me at all.

My mother took a document folder out of her bag.

"Your father had someone look into this. He didn't want me giving it to you today, afraid it'd spoil the mood on the kid's birthday."

"But now I don't see how I can hold it back."

Inside were photocopies of several bank statements.

On the fifteenth of every month, the moment Vincent's salary landed, it was transferred out.

The receiving account belonged to his younger brother, John James.

Seven years. Eighty-four transfers.

More than a million in total.

I stared at the last page, and a chill crept slowly up my back.

When John bought his house last year, my mother-in-law told everyone who'd listen that they'd earned that place through their own hard work.

We'd gone to the housewarming and even given a two-thousand-dollar cash gift.

So that was the hard work. Spending my husband's salary, while I carried every last expense of our own household.

My mother pointed to a few of the larger transfers.

"Now look at the dates."

I followed her finger.

A year ago, four hundred thousand transferred out.

The date was the day after I sold my premarital condo.

That money from the sale, I'd put into the joint account Vincent and I shared, meaning to pay down the mortgage early.

Then he said the bank's wealth manager had recommended an internal product with high returns, so he moved the money.

When it matured, he told me the product had been extended and we'd have to wait a little longer.

I believed him.

Now the statements were right in front of me.

That four hundred thousand had never gone into any investment.

It had gone into John's account, and become the down payment on his house.

Outside the door came the beep of the keypad lock.

Vincent was back, with his mother and his brother's family behind him.

The moment she was through the door, my mother-in-law jabbed a finger at my face and started cursing.

"You've got some nerve, Kay, the world's turned upside down, you actually dared to freeze my son's card!"

"This isn't over today!"

Vincent stood beside her without a trace of guilt on his face.

"Turn the card back on, and apologize to Mom."

"Otherwise, you can forget about staying in this home."

I pushed the statements across to them.

"Fine."

"But first, let's work out where Vincent's million-plus in salary and my four hundred thousand from the house sale actually went."

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