“Hello, is this Mr. Johnson? Yes, this is Grace Miller. My mother has a house she needs to sell urgently. We’re willing to go slightly below market price, but it has to be a full cash payment and the transfer of ownership needs to happen as soon as possible. The paperwork… the faster, the better.”

After hanging up with the realtor, I dialed my mother’s number.

When I heard her gentle, loving voice say, “Sweetheart?” my nose stung sharply, but I quickly pushed it down and switched to a light, almost playful tone:

“Mom, nothing’s wrong. I just missed you. I wanted to tell you something—I recently found this amazing investment opportunity, guaranteed profit! But I’d need to move down to Texas to do it.”

“You should come with me. Oh, and I’ll need a bit of start-up capital. You see… the retirement savings you’ve got, and maybe we could sell the house and you could lend me the money for now? I promise, within three months I’ll pay you back with interest—better than the bank’s rates!”

“Oh, honey, my money is your money. What’s this talk about borrowing? If you need it, just take it! I’ll go find the deed right now.”

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in her voice—only complete trust and support for her daughter.

Hearing her agree without hesitation felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, tight with both ache and pain.

In my last life, it was this same unconditional trust that pushed her into the abyss.

But this time, they won’t get a single penny from my mom.

Then I dialed Michael Carter’s number.

“Michael… I just got a call from the clinic. Mom, she… Mom…”

“What are you crying for? What’s going on?” Michael replied impatiently.

“She’s been diagnosed with stomach cancer.”

“Stomach cancer? What’s that got to do with me? If she’s sick, take her to the hospital. Why are you telling me?”

“But… Mom, she—” I continued playing the part of the fragile, helpless wife.

“No buts!” he cut me off harshly. “I’m busy right now. I don’t have time to listen to you sob! If she’s sick, get her treated; if there’s no money, then she waits. I’m hanging up!”

Beep… beep… beep…

The cold, rapid tone echoed in my ear.

In my past life, for the sake of his so-called “mom,” his whole family could self-righteously force my own mother to sell her home to save her life, lecturing me about “what’s more important, money or life.”

But when my mother needed life-saving money, “mom” suddenly became “your mom,” and I was told to “find a way yourself.” She became “someone else,” a stranger to them.

What a bitter irony.

When I pushed open the door, the shoes at the entryway were tossed in a messy pile.

Robert and Helen Carter lounged on the sofa, cracking peanuts and leaving shells all over the floor.

Emily Carter sat with her phone, watching videos at ear-splitting volume.

When they heard the door, all three looked up—not a hint of concern in their eyes, only the entitled impatience of people waiting to be served.

“Back already? Took you long enough. Don’t you know everyone’s waiting for dinner?” Helen spoke first, nudging the peanut bowl toward the center of the coffee table.

“Michael already told us about your mom’s situation… well, it’s bad luck, but Grace, you need to get your priorities straight. You’re a Carter now—don’t side with your family against us.”

Emily glanced up from her phone with a smirk. “Exactly. Your mom being sick is your side of the family’s problem. You can’t expect all of us to worry about it. Do you know how hard my brother works to provide for this family? Don’t bother him with this again.”

I froze mid-step as I changed my shoes. Michael had just gotten home from work. “Go make dinner—we’re all hungry.”

I ignored him. Instead, I stepped back, opened the door wide, and dropped to my knees, bursting into tears.

“Oh, my poor mother! My father passed early, and she raised me all alone—getting up before dawn to sell vegetables so I could go to school, her hands cracked and bleeding, oozing pus in the winter…”

Upstairs, Mrs. Thompson’s door creaked open just a crack, her head—topped with a tight perm—peeking out, eyes wide in astonishment.

Across the hall, Mrs. Parker stood in her doorway holding a bowl of vegetables, ears pricked to catch every word.

“When I first married into the Carter family, my mom scrimped and saved, gave up all her retirement savings to buy us a house,” I said loudly.

“And now she’s been diagnosed with stomach cancer! How could I possibly turn my back on her?”

Helen Carter’s face drained of color. She hurriedly stood up and tried to pull me to my feet. “Grace, get up! Don’t air our dirty laundry in public!”

I yanked my arm free and cried even harder.

“Honey, say something—please, say something,” I wailed toward Michael.

The hallway was filling with neighbors. Michael’s face was dark as thunder when he charged over, trying to drag me inside. “Grace Miller, have you made enough of a scene? Stop embarrassing me out here!”

I abruptly stopped crying, wiped my face, and said evenly, “If you don’t want to contribute money, I won’t blame you. After all, everyone’s heart is biased toward their own.”

Michael and his parents froze, clearly not expecting me to change tone so suddenly.

“But my mom can’t wait—she needs treatment money now.” I rose slowly to my feet.

“If you won’t help, I’ll borrow it myself. Relatives, friends, neighbors—whoever I can get it from.”

I paused, letting my gaze settle on Michael’s briefly relieved face before continuing, each word deliberate:

“But let’s be clear—right now I am still Michael Carter’s wife. Every cent I borrow is a marital debt. Whether we stay together or split up later, Michael and I will be responsible for repaying it together.”

Michael’s face went pale in an instant.

“You wouldn’t dare!” he pointed at me, his voice trembling. “Grace Miller, are you insane? Why should I pay back your debts?”

“Why?” I looked at him like he was a joke. “Because I’m still your wife. The law says that debts incurred during a marriage are shared by both spouses.”

I turned to the gathering neighbors, bending at the waist politely. My voice was calm but carried clearly:

“Uncles, aunts—sorry for the scene tonight, but I have no choice. My mom’s life is on the line. If Michael and I can’t repay the money later, please remember—you are witnesses. This debt was to pay for my mother’s medical care. By law and fairness, the Carter family owes half.”

Mrs. Thompson nodded immediately. “We’ll testify! She’s right about that!”

Mrs. Parker chimed in, “Exactly! Since when does a wife take on debt and the husband doesn’t share it?”

Michael trembled all over but couldn’t get a word out.

“I’m not staying for dinner,” I said lightly, heading for the stairs. My words floated back, soft but heavy as a hammer blow to each of them:

“I’m going to borrow money now. Michael, you’d better be ready to pay your share when the time comes—don’t try to weasel out of it.”

Later that night, I had just opened my late-night takeout in my motel room when my phone began vibrating wildly.

When I opened the Carter family group chat, messages were pouring in like a flood, nearly bursting the screen.

The first few were from Michael, typed in a fluster:

“Family, it’s Michael. Don’t believe Grace’s one-sided story about her mom being sick! She’s just trying to scam money. Don’t lend her a dime!”

Then came a voice message from Emily:

“My sister-in-law’s blowing this way out of proportion! Who even knows if her mom is really sick? She’s probably just trying to get money to prop up her own family! And besides, she married into our family—why should we take on debt for her side?”

I smirked, scrolling upward, spotting a message from Aunt Margaret:

“You can’t say that. We’re all family. Isn’t a life more important than money?”

A second later, Helen’s voice message popped up:

“Auntie, it’s not that we don’t want to help—it’s that we really can’t. Her mom’s illness is a bottomless pit! She’s running around borrowing money, saying Michael will repay it with her, but where would the Carter family find that kind of money? In the end, it’ll be Michael paying alone! Lending her money is like throwing meat buns to a dog—once it’s gone, it’s gone!”

“A person only lives once—someday your time will come. How could you saddle the younger generation with a mountain of debt just to save yourself? If it were me, I’d never drag my children down.”

The Carter family group chat fell silent for a few seconds, then someone chimed in, “That’s right, Helen sure knows how to see things clearly…”

My fingers trembled slightly around my phone—not from anger, but from how absurd it all was.

Just as the sky was starting to lighten, Helen showed up in her pajamas, blocking the entrance to my office building.

Michael stood behind her, head hanging.

“Grace Miller, you and Michael are going down to the County Clerk’s Office today!”

“This marriage is over! Your heart’s never been with the Carter family—you’re always thinking about funneling money to that sickly mother of yours! Let’s get this over with so we don’t keep dragging each other down!”

Emily took a bite of her bagel and added with a sarcastic lilt, “Exactly, sis-in-law—you and my brother were never on the same path. You’re so obsessed with being some saint for your own family, but we Carters can’t afford to ‘serve’ you. A divorce will be better for you and even better for us.”

I didn’t even lift my eyelids. “A divorce? Fine.”

Helen froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. Then her face broke into a counterfeit smile. “That’s more like it—let’s part ways on good terms.”

“But on one condition,” I cut in. “I’m taking all the cash in the house.”

“In your dreams!” Helen’s fake smile cracked instantly.

“Don’t want to? That’s fine—then we split the house. It’s marital property, and by law, I own half.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Helen jumped up, jabbing a finger at my face. “We paid the down payment! That was me and your father-in-law’s life savings! It’s already generous we put your name on it, and you still want to take half? You’ve got a heart of stone, Grace Miller!”

“Life savings?” I gave a short laugh and pulled out the property deed, waving it in front of her. “Funny, I don’t see the words ‘Carter Family Life Savings’ written anywhere on this. A down payment made after the wedding—no matter whose money it was—without a notarized agreement, is marital property. And I’ve paid my share of the mortgage for years. Why wouldn’t I get half?”

Emily lunged to grab the deed, but I sidestepped. She stomped her foot in frustration. “That’s my brother’s house! You’re about to be divorced—how can you take our family’s home?”

“Because I’m Michael Carter’s legal wife, and that means half of this house is mine.” I slipped the deed into my bag and zipped it shut. “Either give me all the cash, or sell the house and split the proceeds. Decide now, and we’ll head straight to the County Clerk’s Office. If you don’t choose…”

“Well, that works too—the loan I applied for yesterday should be approved any moment now. I can use the house as collateral.”

Helen’s face went ashen, and she stumbled back a step. “This is a curse! We Carters haven’t treated you badly—how can you do this to us…”

At the County Clerk’s Office entrance, Michael shot me a furious glare. “The money’s been transferred to you.”

Helen took over, “From now on, you walk your road, we walk ours. No more crossing paths.”

She lifted her chin high as she said it, as if tossing off a “burden” would let the Carter family soar to new heights.

Emily crossed her arms, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Finally, some peace and quiet. Michael, don’t ever go for a woman who sides with her own family again.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, meeting all three of their eyes with a calm gaze. “We won’t cross paths again.”

I turned to leave, but Helen’s phone suddenly rang. She pulled it out with an impatient huff, frowning at the caller ID before answering sharply, “Hello? What is it? I’m busy!”

Whatever the caller said drained the irritation from her face, replacing it with shock, then dawning panic.

“…Retest? Why do you need a retest?”