After My Husband Faked His Death, My Overbearing Mother-in-Law Set Her Eyes on My Younger Brother

My husband, Jack, died in the line of duty.

I promised him I would take care of his mother.

But I never imagined Doris would take that promise as a license to do whatever she pleased.

To scam $15,000, she sent men to break into my home and drag me to the bed of an old bachelor.

Even my younger brother didn't escape her grasp.

When I fought back and returned with help—

I found her naked, sprawled across my brother, pinning him down.

That was the last straw.

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After a long day at work, I came home to thick smoke and loud laughter.

Doris was in the living room, playing poker with a few of her friends.

The air was choked with smoke, making me cough the moment I stepped in.

"Doris..."

I hadn't even started to speak when she shoved a bowl of chicken at me without turning around.

"Here, eat. Then go rest," she said.

I blinked. It was the first time Doris had ever prepared food for me.

Trying not to make a fuss, I took the bowl.

"Thanks, Doris."

She didn't respond and continued to play poker.

I sat down and started to eat, but something about the chicken tasted off.

I took another bite to be sure.

The sour, rancid flavor filled my mouth.

I grabbed a napkin, spit it out, and marched over to her.

"Doris, this chicken's gone bad."

I thought she'd be surprised.

But instead, she threw her head back and laughed.

She turned to her friends.

"See how sharp my daughter-in-law is? I boiled that chicken in hot water three times. She still figured out it was spoiled!"

Her friends howled with laughter.

I stood there, shaking with rage, feeling like a circus monkey at the center of their show.

"This isn't funny, Doris."

When she saw I was angry, she didn't respond. She just said to her friends,

"Come on, next round!"

I was speechless. Furious.

No one acknowledged me. Clenching my jaw, I stood up and dumped the chicken into the trash.

I grabbed a few bites of something else just to fill my stomach.

Then I went to wash the dishes—only to find the water had been shut off.

I carried in a bucket of water I'd stored in the bathroom.

But something smelled off—faint but foul.

Maybe the toilet hadn't flushed properly, I thought.

I called out, "Doris, if the water's out, just use the bucket by the sink."

She shot me a sideways glance and said nothing.

I poured the water into the sink and dropped the dishes in.

But the liquid was yellowish and foamy.

I froze, my hand halfway submerged.

A stench hit me.

I screamed.

It was urine.

Both my hands were already in it. With the water off, I had no way to clean them.

I was livid. My last shred of patience snapped.

Why the hell was there pee in the bucket?

Where was the clean water I'd stored?

Blazing with fury, I stormed out and confronted her.

"Doris, why did you put urine in the water bucket?"

She pinched her nose and stared at me in disgust.

Her friends began leaving, muttering in disgust.

Doris didn't explain. Didn't apologize. She just frowned at me for chasing her friends away.

I stood there, exhausted.

"Doris..."

She hurled the cards at my face.

"Get away from me! You reek!"

Then she muttered, "I was just trying to save water. Use urine to flush down the poop, what's wrong with that?"

She made it my fault.

"Do you have any idea how much our water bill is? You should at least try to save some water!"

My chest rose with deep, furious breaths. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Then why didn't you stop me when you saw me carrying the bucket into the kitchen?"

I couldn't hold back anymore.

Doris just shrugged, feeling no remorse.

"I forgot," she said, and walked back to her room.

Leaving me alone, staring down at my filthy hands, on the verge of collapse.