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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 2

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.