At the New Year’s family dinner, Emma Quinn entered the house with a food container, her son was behind.

Her mother-in-law warmly took the food container and said, “Local girls are so thoughtful. A woman from out of town can’t even make a tasty food.”

Ethan Brooks put down his phone and gently took Emma ’s son, soothing him, but then coldly told their daughter, who had accidentally fallen and was crying, to move away.

I removed my apron, picked up my daughter and sat down, holding back my anger.

"People from small places have no manners," my mother-in-law criticized. "The guest hasn’t even sat down, but she’s already made herself comfortable."

Ethan reached over to pull me, irritated by our daughter’s crying and slapped her.

I stood up quickly, pulled my daughter protectively behind me and threw a freshly cooked dish of spicy pork blood stew over Ethan’s head.

When my mother-in-law reached out to hit me, I quickly flipped the dining table over, spilling the boiling chicken soup that scalded her as she screamed in pain.

It’s one thing to disgust me, but bullying me is another.

I picked up my daughter, grabbed my suitcase and left, throwing the divorce papers in Ethan’s face.

He may be dirty, but I won’t leave without what’s rightfully mine.

My unfaithful husband and his insulting mother would both pay the price.

Part 1

I had just finished making New Year’s dinner and hadn’t even taken off my apron when the doorbell rang.

My mother-in-law rushed to open the door, showing no sign of the back pain she often claimed to have.

As my daughter walked toward me, she tripped over a carelessly placed trash can and sat on the ground, wailing.

Charlotte entered, holding her six-month-old son and carrying a food container, with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Auntie, I made some of your favorite dishes and little Edward missed you, so I brought him over."

"Local girls are so thoughtful," my mother-in-law said, giving me a disdainful look. "Out-of-town women can’t even make decent food."

Upon hearing Charlotte’s voice, Ethan quickly stopped his game, took little Edward and soothed him gently.

“Why are you crying? It’s New Year, you little brat. You scared Edward. Go and cry in the bathroom if you have to.”

Ethan was mad at my daughter and his face was fierce.

I took off my apron, picked up my daughter and sat down, comforting her softly.

In front of my daughter, I held back my anger.

“Mommy, I want some of that meat,” my daughter begged. I picked up a piece of spicy chicken for her.

“People from small places have no manners. The guest hasn’t even sat down, but she has,” my mother-in-law said sarcastically as she pulled out a chair for Charlotte.

Hearing this, Ethan reached over to pull me and slapped our daughter, annoyed by her crying.

I quickly stood up, pulled my daughter protectively behind me and dumped a hot pot of spicy pork blood stew over Ethan’s head.

His face turned red from the scalding and he nearly dropped little Edward.

My mother-in-law reached out to hit me, but I quickly flipped the table over, spilling hot chicken soup that scalded her as she screamed.

"Emma, are you crazy? How could you treat Ethan and Godmother like this?" Charlotte asked, her voice was sharp.

"And who are you to question me?" I retorted. "Is your family all gone, that you have to barge into other people’s homes on New Year’s?"

“You… Ethan, look at her!” Charlotte cried, got furious and flustered, as Ethan, with his red, swollen face, told me to get out.

I picked up my daughter, took the suitcase I’d packed long ago and walked toward the door.

“Hmm, putting on an act. A woman who married far away—where could she even go? Don’t worry; she’ll regret it in less than five minutes and then I’ll make her kneel and apologize,” Ethan said arrogantly, watching me leave.

I slammed the door with a loud “bang” as I left, but I didn’t go far. Instead, I stood outside holding my daughter, listening to the sounds from inside.

My mother-in-law couldn’t stop cursing at me, while Charlotte was softly comforting her.

I pushed the door open with force and the three of them looked at me, bursting into laughter.

“See? Not even five minutes and she’s already back,” Ethan said smugly.

I took out the divorce papers and threw them in his face, while shouting, “I don’t want a filthy thing like you anymore. Go fool around with whoever you like – one day, you’ll die because of it!”

Behind me, Ethan, looked like a rat with its tail stepped on, turned red and lunged forward, was ready to hit me.

As he reached the door, I slammed it shut hard, catching his left hand and leaving it bright red.

Part 2

Ethan has always been hating children. Since our daughter was born, he has never once given her a smile.

When he found out I was pregnant and would have a baby girl, he pressured me, subtly and not-so-subtly, to get an abortion.

The day our daughter was born, he was off jumping with Charlotte. I didn’t see him once during my entire recovery period.

After our daughter was born, he couldn’t stand her crying or the scent of milk in the house, so he moved to stay at his workplace.

As she grew, he found her affection unbearable and never treated her with the warmth you’d expect from a father.

I loved Ethan deeply and kept convincing myself that he was still young, still just a boy. I’d brought a daughter into his life too suddenly and maybe he just needed time to adjust.

So, whenever he was home, I made sure our daughter stayed out of his way, doing my best to keep her from bothering him.

When our daughter was two, my mother-in-law, who had been absent until then, suddenly decided to help take care of her. Without asking me, Ethan brought her over and insisted I give her our main bedroom.

But rather than helping with my daughter, my mother-in-law ignored her completely and even used the money I gave her for baby supplies to support Charlotte instead.

Several times, I came home to find my daughter starving and crying alone in the house, while my “helpful” mother-in-law strolled leisurely from the apartment complex across the street.

I eventually followed her and discovered she had been spending her days caring for Charlotte, who had just had a baby and needed postnatal care.

To make matters worse, my husband, who supposedly hated children, was frequently at Charlotte’s place, happily cradling her baby.

It was only then that I began to suspect Ethan might be having an affair.

One night, I confronted my mother-in-law and Ethan right outside Charlotte’s apartment, holding my daughter.

Neither of them showed a shred of guilt; instead, they looked impatient.

My mother-in-law held my hand warmly and said with a heavy tone, “Emma, Charlotte is the daughter of your father’s friend. Her husband had an accident and isn’t around anymore. I just come by sometimes to help her.”

Meanwhile, Ethan was expertly changing Charlotte’s son’s diaper, handling the baby with gentle care as if he were afraid to hurt him.

It made me think back to the night our daughter was sick when I’d begged him to stay with us.

That night, when I asked him to pass me a clean diaper, he flew into a rage, saying, “What kind of man touches things like that? They’re filthy and they’ll bring me bad luck!”

But now, here he was, delicately wiping Charlotte’s son without a care in the world about his “luck.”

At that moment, I became certain Ethan was having an affair—he’d created a new “family” right under my nose.

However, I had no concrete evidence. If I rashly filed for divorce, I could lose everything, including my daughter.

Looking at the wedding photo on the wall, where Ethan had once promised me a lifetime of loyalty, my heart felt like it was being cut into pieces. But as I held my daughter, who had never received her father’s love, a fierce determination began to rise within me.

I could live without this unfaithful man, but I wouldn’t leave without what was rightfully mine. They would pay for every mistake, down to the last cent.

Holding my daughter, I stepped out into the cold night. The bitter wind stung my face and my daughter snuggled closer, shivering against me. It was New Year’s Eve, a time for family, yet the streets were nearly empty.

“Mommy, where are we going?” she asked softly.

It was already ten at night. There were no buses and if I went to my parents' home, showing up with my daughter at this hour, it would only bring them heartache.

Thankfully, the moment I suspected Ethan of cheating, I began preparing for this.

“Mommy’s taking you home, to our own place,” I whispered, pulling my coat tighter around her to shield her from the biting wind.

I hailed a cab and gave the driver an address. Soon, we arrived at an old, run-down apartment complex. I carried my sleeping daughter inside.

After settling her in, I opened my phone and immediately saw new posts from my mother-in-law and Charlotte on social media.

My mother-in-law had posted a “family” photo. Charlotte was clinging to Ethan’s arm, looking every bit like a doting partner. My mother-in-law had captioned the photo, “A very filial daughter-in-law, taking her old mother-in-law out for a fancy dinner!”

In the photo, my mother-in-law was grinning from ear to ear, showing off a jade bracelet on her wrist. Clearly, Charlotte knew how to curry favor. Not only did she treat my mother-in-law to an upscale restaurant, but she also bought her a faux jade bracelet that looked deceptively real.

Below this was Charlotte’s post: a picture of Ethan kissing her pregnant belly. Though only a silhouette, it was unmistakably Ethan. Her caption read, “I finally reached my dream, step by step, by your side.”

My mother-in-law quickly liked Charlotte’s post, adding a series of heart emoji.

Refusing to stay silent, I commented on my mother-in-law’s post: “No wonder your son cheats. The problem starts with you! How easily you’re bought off with a cheap bracelet. Pathetic!”

Then, I went to Charlotte’s post and commented, “Throwing yourself at a married man? You’re no better than a woman on the streets. You and Ethan are a perfect match—he’s yours, I’m done with him!”

Before I could finish typing, Ethan bombarded me with messages on WhatsApp and my phone began to ring non-stop.

Seeing I wasn’t answering, he left a series of voice messages. I walked out of the bedroom and played them one by one.

“Emma, what the hell are you saying? What makes you think that’s me in Charlotte Charlotte’s post? Delete your comments and apologize to her right now!”

“And how dare you talk to my mom that way! She’s your elder sister. Come home immediately and apologize to her!”