Yet Daniel couldn’t stand losing face. He told everyone my job didn’t earn much.

I struck the final blow.

“You can’t expect me to live worse now than when I was working, can you?”

The living room fell into dead silence.

I looked at their darkening faces and sneered inwardly.

This was only the beginning.

Their so-called good days had just started to unravel.

Daniel’s company couldn’t hold on. Profits plummeted, and the department was abuzz with layoff rumors.

His once-thick bonuses shrank into a few thin bills.

Meanwhile, I completely abandoned financial planning at home.

I had only one task—spending money.

For Ethan’s extracurricular classes, I chose the most expensive ones with foreign teachers.

At home, I replaced every appliance with the newest “smart” version, whether we needed it or not.

I said, “It’s all for this family, for Ethan. We can’t let him fall behind at the starting line. We need to keep up with the times.”

My in-laws didn’t understand, but when the neighbors praised me for being so devoted, they were overjoyed.

The bank balance dropped quickly under my efforts.

Finally, Daniel confronted me in the living room, his face dark, holding a credit card bill.

He slammed it onto the coffee table with a loud smack.

“Emily Carter, are you insane? A hundred thousand! You spent a hundred thousand in just one month!”

His chest heaved with rage as he jabbed at the details on the statement, his voice trembling.

“Imported soy sauce—three thousand a bottle? German dishcloths—five hundred each? What are you, wiping the floor with gold?”

I poured myself a glass of water leisurely, not even looking at him.

“You were the one who promised to give me and our child the best life. And your mom said the Carter family could afford to keep someone who didn’t need to work. Besides, isn’t this the same level of spending as when I was working?”

The only difference was, back then I paid the bills myself.

I lifted my head and stared at him.

“What’s wrong, Daniel? Can’t afford me anymore?”

The words pierced his fragile pride. His face flushed crimson.

“Starting next month, every major expense must go through me!” he gritted out between his teeth before slamming the door on his way out.

The next day, my mother-in-law came over, her voice syrupy sweet.

“Emily, you see how tight things are now. How about… you go back to the corporation for a while? Once Daniel recovers, you can quit again. I promise I won’t stop you then.”

I pulled my hand away, feigning surprise.

“Mom, how could I? When I resigned, my director nearly turned green with anger. If I go back now, wouldn’t it be so awkward?”

“Besides, if I start working again, who will pick up Ethan? Who will cook for the family? Weren’t those the very reasons you pushed me to resign?”

I returned her old arguments almost word for word.

Her mouth opened, but she had nothing to say. She left, sulking.

After that, the atmosphere at home grew unbearably tense.

Daniel worked overtime more and more, returning home each night with a heavy face.

My mother-in-law no longer coddled me, instead sighing in the living room every day, praising other daughters-in-law for being hardworking and supportive.

I turned a deaf ear and continued my extravagant lifestyle.

Soon, it was Ethan’s tenth birthday.

In my past life, I missed his birthday party because I worked on a project for three days straight.

That was the seed of his lifelong grudge against me.

This time, I started preparing a month in advance.

I booked the most expensive restaurant downtown and hired a professional party-planning team.

Other parents praised me for being such a devoted mom.

I took Daniel’s arm and smiled blissfully.

“Daniel says money isn’t the point—our child’s happiness is what matters most.”

Daniel’s smile froze.

Not far away, my in-laws’ faces were so dark they could drip ink.

Midway through the party, my mother-in-law dragged me into a corner, barely suppressing her anger.

“Emily, do you have any idea how much this afternoon cost? Over a hundred thousand! Are you trying to drain our family dry?”

I looked innocent.

“Mom, I missed Ethan’s birthday last year because of overtime. He was sad for an entire year. I’m making it up to him.”

“Besides, with so many parents here, doesn’t hosting a classy event bring honor to the Carter family?”

“See? Everyone’s praising how capable Daniel is.”

She was left speechless.

When the party ended and the guests had all gone, Daniel finally exploded.

He jabbed a finger at my nose and roared, “What exactly are you trying to do—bleed this family dry until you’re satisfied?”

I looked at his agitated face and replied calmly,

“I’m supporting my husband, raising our child, managing the home, and making everyone envy Ethan for having a great mom and a happy family.”

I paused. “Isn’t that exactly what you all said you wanted from me?”

All his fury and accusations shattered under that one line.

He slumped onto the sofa, at a loss for words.

Yes—this was the outcome they had begged for with their own hands.

Who else could they blame?

A few days after the birthday party, Ethan showed unusual symptoms—

first a low fever, then nighttime cries about severe leg pain.

In my previous life, I was too busy with work and overlooked them; by the time I noticed, it was too late.

That became Daniel’s family’s biggest excuse—my own son’s, even—to drive me to my death.

This time, I would give them no such chance.

I rushed Ethan to the most expensive private hospital in the city.

When the definitive report came out, I broke down, sobbing as if my heart were tearing apart.

Daniel and my in-laws hurried to the hospital.

At the sight of the diagnosis, my mother-in-law lunged for my collar and screamed,

“This is all your fault! You kept buying imported snacks and foreign formula for him—you ruined his health! You curse of a woman!”

I let her tug at me, shaking with tears, and pulled out what I had prepared long ago—

a thick stack of shopping receipts and Ethan’s latest physical exam records.

“Mom, you’re the one who told me to buy these for him.”

I played an audio clip. Her shrill voice echoed in the corridor:

“Everything for Ethan must be imported! Foreign goods are safer—no contamination!”

Stares from all around pricked at her like needles.

I continued evenly,

“And I took him for checkups every month—nothing abnormal before this. The doctor said it’s a genetic mutation, inherited paternally.”

“Didn’t Richard’s cousin have the same disease?”

Her face flushed beet red. She let go of me, fuming in silence.

Daniel, eyes bloodshot and voice hoarse, grabbed the doctor’s sleeve.

“Doctor, the treatment plan—what’s the best option?”

Choking back sobs, I delivered the decisive blow.

“The doctor recommends targeted therapy drugs. The cure rate could reach eighty percent. But the first phase alone will cost five hundred thousand.”