My mother-in-law complained that the imperial banquet I'd ordered was too extravagant, then publicly praised my sister-in-law's homemade shredded potatoes as the mark of a proper homemaker.

I wanted to explain, but my husband grabbed my arm.

"Mom's been frugal her whole life. Just bear with her."

Later, she made a snide remark while pointing at the peanuts on the table.

"Even peanuts know how to produce. Some people, though..."

I understood then.

She was using the dish to mock me.

Never mind that it was her son's body that couldn't perform—somehow, the blame landed on me.

My brother-in-law and his wife piled on. The rest of the family snickered.

I looked at my husband. He kept his head down, silent.

I was done.

I called over the restaurant manager.

"Pack everything up and have it sent to my car."

My mother-in-law's face twisted with rage.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I met her glare head-on.

"I'm saying you and your precious daughter-in-law can go home and eat shredded potatoes."

1.

The private dining room was packed—sixty people crammed around three large round tables.

Waiters glided between them, setting down dish after dish.

"Jade Shrimp Rings... Ribbon-Wrapped Fragrant Pork... Golden Silk Crispy Sparrow..."

Graham Bennett, the restaurant manager, announced each course with practiced elegance.

My mother-in-law's face, however, had gone dark as a storm cloud.

"A hundred and eight dishes?"

She slammed her chopsticks onto her plate with a sharp clack.

"Stella Maxwell, are you trying to buy out the entire restaurant?"

The table fell silent.

I smiled faintly.

"It's New Year's Eve, Mom. It's rare for the whole family to be together like this."

Her eyelids lifted as she swept a cold gaze around the room.

"What's the point of everyone being here? Money spent is money gone. These dishes are overpriced and tasteless—not half as good as the shredded potatoes Joyce makes!"

I turned to look at my sister-in-law, Joyce Galloway.

She sat with her head bowed, sipping her tea, the faintest curl at the corner of her lips. She said nothing.

"Mom, Stella meant well."

My husband, Howard Fletcher, murmured beside me, playing peacemaker. His hand brushed my knee under the table—a signal to let it go.

I didn't pull away. But I didn't respond either.

The dishes kept coming.

No one touched their chopsticks.

Children reached for the food, only to be silenced by sharp looks from their parents.

"How much did all this cost, anyway?"

Darlene Hartwell, one of the aunts from Howard's side, broke the silence.

I kept my voice even.

"One hundred eighty thousand dollars."

A collective intake of breath rippled across the tables.

My mother-in-law's expression turned murderous.

"A hundred and eighty thousand!"

Her voice pitched higher.

"Howard, do you hear this? Your wife certainly knows how to burn through money!"

Howard rushed to explain.

"Mom, it's Stella's own money—"

"Her money is the Fletcher family's money!"

She cut him off, jabbing her chopsticks toward the freshly served "Pearl in Palm" dish.

"Look at this! All style, no substance. One bite and it's gone. Who is this supposed to feed?"

Joyce set down her teacup and spoke in that soft, honeyed voice of hers.

"Mom, please don't be upset."

"Stella runs a company—she has to keep up appearances for business. We're just ordinary folk, so we wouldn't understand. We just think... something more practical would be better."

She lingered on the word practical, letting it hang in the air.

One of the younger aunts jumped in immediately.

"Exactly! It's just a New Year's dinner—eating at home would've been fine. All this flashy nonsense at a restaurant... people who don't know us will think we're nouveau riche."

I'd had enough. I set down my chopsticks and started to rise—but Howard pressed down on my shoulder.

He shook his head slightly, whispering, "Mom's always been frugal. Just be understanding. Bear with it a little longer."

I exhaled slowly.

If she hadn't spent the past month telling me that this year's New Year's Eve dinner had to be done properly, I wouldn't have bothered organizing any of this.

Now I saw it clearly.

She never wanted a banquet at a restaurant.

She wanted me slaving away in the kitchen at home—exhausted, overworked, playing the dutiful daughter-in-law.

I had to be humble. Subservient. Suffering.

Only then would she be satisfied.

But I was usually so swamped that my feet barely touched the ground. The housekeeper handled all the cooking at home—when would I ever have time to organize a dinner for sixty people?

I frowned slightly.

But it was New Year's Eve. Let it go.

The manager approached. "All the dishes have been served."

I looked around the table. "Please, everyone, dig in."

My mother-in-law didn't move. No one dared pick up their chopsticks.

I glanced at Howard, silently asking: Are we eating or not?

He stood with an ingratiating smile. "Mom, why don't you try the sea cucumber first..."

She poked at it with her chopsticks.

"What kind of sea cucumber is this? Sliced so thin it wouldn't even fill the gaps in my teeth."

"Shark fin? Sinful. I heard they hack the fins right off living sharks..."

"Pretty garnish, I suppose. Can you eat decorations?"

Every single dish failed to meet her standards.

She critiqued for a full thirty minutes before finally deigning to speak.

"Well. I suppose everyone can eat now."

People began to eat, but the atmosphere had turned suffocating.

I kept my head down, spooning soup into my mouth mechanically.

Then her gaze landed on me.

"Stella, your company must have made quite a bit this year?"

I gave a vague reply. "It's been decent."

"What's the point of making money?"

She sighed dramatically.

"For a woman, family is what matters most. Look at your sister-in-law—she doesn't work, but she keeps that household running like clockwork. And those two children? Raised beautifully."

Joyce smiled with practiced sweetness. "Mom, please, don't say that. It's just my duty..."

"I'm stating facts!"

My mother-in-law's voice rose sharply.

"A woman who can't bear children—what good is all the money in the world?"

The entire table went silent.

My grip tightened around my chopsticks.

"Mom!"

Howard shot to his feet, his laugh strained. "Let's just eat, shall we? What are you even saying?"

She let out a cold laugh.

"Three years of marriage and not a whisper from her womb. I can't even mention it?"

"I told you from the start—don't marry some career woman. But did you listen? The neighbor's daughter, Tessa Nolan, married into the next city over. She had her second child last year. Both boys!"

"We've... been focused on our careers. We're not ready for children yet."

Howard's voice wavered.

"Not ready?"

My mother-in-law laughed out loud.

"You think I'm senile? She can't have them!"

Whispers rippled around the table. Every pair of eyes fixed on my stomach.

I closed my eyes. Drew a slow breath.

Two years ago, Howard and I had gotten tested.

His sperm motility was under twenty percent.

The doctor had been blunt: natural conception was nearly impossible.

Howard had begged me to keep it quiet.

"I'm a man. I can't lose face like this."

"If Mom pushes about grandchildren, I'll handle it."

I had agreed.

So we told everyone we simply weren't ready for children yet.

But my mother-in-law had decided the fault was mine. And now she was publicly crucifying me for it.

I looked at Howard.

He kept his head down.

"Stella, just... bear with it. Mom's only venting."

My brow furrowed.

This was him "handling it"?

My mother-in-law picked up a peanut with her chopsticks and held it toward me.

"Stella, eat these peanuts."

"Even flowers can reproduce. But apparently, some people can't."

"Tell me—was your private life a little too active when you were young? Racked up too much bad karma to conceive now?"

The room went deathly still.

That single sentence ground my dignity and reputation into the dirt.

And finally, I understood.

From the moment she'd demanded I arrange this dinner, through every passive-aggressive jab since—

It wasn't the dishes she was unhappy with—it was me.

I shot to my feet, but Howard rose at the same instant and grabbed my arm.

He leaned close to my ear, his voice pleading. "Mom's just like this... Let's just finish dinner, and then we'll go home, okay?"

I clenched my fists and stared at him.

He was so spineless it made my teeth ache.

For his sake, I'd swallowed my pride again and again.

But I wasn't without limits.

For his mother's birthday, I'd given her a solid gold bracelet. When she fell ill, I'd arranged for the best specialist in the city. She loved showing off, so I'd ordered this obscene eighteen-course banquet.

And what did I get in return? Humiliation at every turn—all because I couldn't give her a grandchild.

Who could endure this?

Seeing that I was genuinely angry, Howard hurried to placate me in a low voice. "I know you've been wronged. Next year we won't come here—we'll spend the holiday at your parents' place, okay?"

I felt myself calm down slightly.

Three years of marriage, and I hadn't spent a single New Year with my own family. Even on the second day of the holiday, I wasn't allowed to visit them.

His mother's words still rang in my ears: "If you leave, who's going to hand out red envelopes to all these relatives and children?"

"You're married now—you need to hold up this household. Running off is out of the question."

For the sake of Howard's promise, I told myself: One more time. Just endure it one more time.

At that moment, Jude Fletcher raised his glass and swayed to his feet.

"Little brother," he slurred, "not to lecture you, but you need to keep your wife in line!"

"Can't pop out a kid, but sure knows how to burn through money. Tsk, tsk." He shook his head theatrically. "If she were my wife, I'd have slapped some sense into her ages ago!"

Under the table, Joyce kicked him. Her face, however, remained a mask of gentle concern. "You've had too much to drink. What nonsense are you spouting?"

"I'm not spouting nonsense!" Jude waved her off. "She married into the Fletcher family, so she follows Fletcher rules. A woman running a company? Out there schmoozing with God knows who?" He snorted. "Probably getting cheated on and doesn't even know it!"

Snickers rippled around the table.

Howard kept his head down. Silent.

I fixed Jude with a stony glare. "Big brother, who got you that job of yours? Without me 'out there schmoozing,' where would you be right now?"

Jude's face flushed crimson. He jabbed a finger at me. "You—!"

"Me what? Did I say something untrue?"

I met his gaze without flinching.

Howard immediately seized my arm. "Stella, that's enough—he's my brother!"

My eyes stung with sudden heat.

When others attacked me, he went mute.

When I defended myself, he held me back.

I'd never feared the knives and arrows of the outside world. But betrayal from the person closest to me? That I couldn't bear.

Darlene Hartwell suddenly turned to her daughter. "You work at Stella's company—how much does she pay you?"

Alyssa Hartwell blinked, caught off guard, then answered honestly. "Three thousand base, plus a thousand in performance bonuses."

"What?" Darlene slammed down her chopsticks. "You have a bachelor's degree, and she's paying you three or four thousand? She's screwing over her own family!"

Alyssa rushed to explain. "Mom, I just graduated this year. That's actually really good—"

Darlene smacked the table. "Stella, you dropped a hundred and eighty thousand on one meal, but you're this stingy with your own relatives? I don't care—you will give her a raise. Six thousand minimum!"

That opened the floodgates. Several relatives who worked at my company couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Yeah, Stella, what about me? I've been at the company two years now—isn't it time for a bump?"

"Exactly! My dad handles your logistics—that's the dirtiest, hardest work there is. You can't play favorites!"

I turned to Howard, my gaze burning.

Every single one of these relatives had come to my company through him.