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

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

My mother-in-law’s obsessive stinginess cost my daughter and me our lives. From forcing us to eat garbage to inviting a killer into our home through a sketchy free cleaning service, her cheapness proved fatal. After our tragic deaths, my husband and his mother eagerly claimed my inheritance, quickly replacing me. But when I open my eyes, I find myself back on June 18th—the exact day her deadly decisions began. This time, I will ensure we survive.
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Chapter 1

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."

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