Husband Wants to Unplug Mother's Oxygen,Reborn, I Didn't Stop Him

1: 1

My mother-in-law was gravely ill, and the medical account was empty.

My husband knelt in front of me, crying, begging me. Only you can save her, he said. He even pretended he was going to pull out her oxygen tube and give up on treatment.

I couldn't bear it. I sold my premarital property cheap and dragged my mother-in-law back from death's door.

And what did she do once she was discharged? Not a word of thanks. She complained that I hadn't let her die in peace, that I'd condemned her to a life worse than death.

While I was cooking, she made trouble on purpose and knocked a whole pot of hot oil onto me.

I was badly scalded.

No one took me to the hospital. They lied to me instead, said the family had an ancestral secret remedy that cured burns.

After I used it, the infection set in. My organs failed one by one, and I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband made his decision.

"Where's Marcia Lawrence's family?"

The familiar shout jolted me awake.

The moment my eyes opened, Dr. Armstrong, her attending physician, was walking toward me.

"The patient's medical account is out of money. You need to pay the fees."

Hearing the same words again, I couldn't help glancing at Egbert Chavez, shrinking into the far end of the hallway. To keep from being spotted, he'd even stuck his head out the window.

I came back to myself and pointed Dr. Armstrong toward him.

In my last life I'd stupidly gone back and forth with Dr. Armstrong, and learned my mother-in-law could be cured for only four or five hundred thousand. Then Egbert knelt in front of me, begging and begging, and like a fool I agreed to let him sell off my premarital house cheap.

Every cent went to treating her illness, and in the end...

I drew a deep breath and followed behind Dr. Armstrong. This time I wanted to see whether Egbert planned to run the same trick.

Pretend to pull the tube and give up treatment, then drop to his knees and beg me?

"Mr. Chavez, the patient's medical account is empty. If you don't pay soon, she'll have to be moved to a general ward. Given her condition, moving her is the same as giving up on treatment..."

"I don't have money." Egbert cut Dr. Armstrong off.

He pointed at me. "My wife handles the money. Ask her!"

After we married, Egbert gave me five hundred a month for living expenses, but in front of other people he always said I handled the money. The truth was I didn't even know how much he earned.

I gave a bitter little laugh. Before, to save his face, I'd never called him out in front of anyone. I'd swallowed the broken teeth and the blood with them.

"You give me five hundred a month, and I have to cover the groceries out of my own pocket. The whole time your mother's been in the hospital, it's been my savings paying for it. I can't print money. Where would I have any left?"

Egbert stared at me, stunned.

"If nobody has money, then let's just stop the treatment!"

Dr. Armstrong didn't understand what was really going on and offered a well-meaning reminder.

"If you give up now, everything spent on her treatment so far is wasted."

Just as I'd expected, Egbert turned pitiful and started pleading with me.

This time I chose to look right through him.

He couldn't understand why I'd turned so cold all of a sudden. Frustrated, he muttered, "Is there really nothing we can do?"

I spread my hands, looking heartbroken. "I really don't have any money."

Egbert hadn't expected me to refuse so flatly.

Unwilling to let it go, he asked, "What about your house?"

Watching him finally ask it, so full of righteous nerve, I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

"The house is in my mother's name..."

"You'd really stand there and watch my mother die?"

Same as last life. Here came the guilt trip.

Last time I'd thought money could always be earned back, but a person once gone was gone for good. I didn't want him left with regret, and I never once questioned his motives. So I talked my mother around, and we scraped the money together to treat Marcia's illness.

And after she was discharged?

All day long she complained about how miserable it was to drag on sick and half-dead, how a quick death would have been so much better.

After she came home, her whole temper changed. Everything about me set her off. She could perfectly well use the toilet herself, but she'd soil herself on purpose just to make me clean it up.

If I was slow about it, she'd curse me up and down.

I treated her as a sick woman. No matter how vile her words got, I let it go. And she didn't rein it in. She only pushed harder, until she'd driven me into my grave.

I gave money and I gave labor, and in return I became her sworn enemy.

Since heaven had given me another chance, I would not let myself get shoved into that pit again.

I asked Egbert, my voice hard, "Then what about you? You're her son."

2: 2

Egbert stared at me like he couldn't believe it, then dropped to his knees in front of me.

"Sabrina, I know it's not fair of me to ask you to sell your house to save my mom. But can you really stand there and watch her die?"

I looked at Egbert putting on his little performance, my eyes going cold, and pulled him back to his feet.

"Stop trying to get at my money. Why don't you sell yours?"

When I turned him down, his brows twisted up like a knot.

"Is scheming for his wife's money just what men in the Chavez family do?"

Things I could never bring myself to say in my past life, I now said with a clear conscience and not a shred of guilt.

At first I thought the two of them just had their eyes on the property I'd owned before the marriage. Now it hit me that they wanted to swallow my parents' life savings too, because only by killing me could they bleed the whole family dry.

Seeing that I wasn't buying it, Egbert quickly switched tactics.

"If I sell my place, where are we supposed to live? Could you really respect a husband who moved in and lived off his wife?"

Hearing what he really thought, I laughed coldly and asked, "You honestly don't think you've been living off me this whole time?"

He was grinding his teeth so hard they might crack, and he couldn't come up with a single thing to say back. I let my gaze drift elsewhere.

"Don't count on me for your mom's treatment."

He finally lost it and blew up at me. "How can you be this cold-blooded?"

Hearing that, I didn't even bother to keep up the act.

"She's your own mother. Save her or don't, that's up to you."

I said it and turned to walk away, giving him no chance to keep working me over.

"Fine. I'll go sell the house right now. Happy?"

Egbert threw out the threat, and when he saw I still didn't look back,

he turned to Clifford, resigned. "I'll go raise the money. Dr. Armstrong, could you please move her to a regular ward for now?"

"Do you understand what moving her to a regular ward means?"

"Even if you push me to the wall, I don't have the money, do I?"

I knew every word of this was meant for my ears, but I couldn't be bothered to respond. I'd seen plenty of these sob-story acts in my last life. These days it didn't stir the smallest ripple in me.

"How did she treat you after we got married?"

The woman I am now wasn't about to be fooled by appearances again.

In my past life my mother-in-law seemed easygoing and loving, right up until I was scalded by hot oil, and then her attitude flipped. She kept coaxing me with cheap, sweet talk, never once mentioned taking me to a hospital, and fobbed me off with a folk remedy instead.

Her so-called remedy was petroleum jelly. The stuff is cheap and easy to slather on in quantity, and the important part was that it sealed the skin off, so the raw, festering wound rotted faster. That was what caused the severe infection, the thing that shut down every organ in my body.

I looked at Egbert with a cold smile.

"So you're trying to guilt me into repayment? Then as her son, you'd better hurry up and repay her yourself. Wait too long and you'll regret it when it's too late."

Seeing that I wasn't taking the bait, Egbert went downstairs, disappointed.

3: 3

I watched the nurse detach the equipment from my mother-in-law's body.

Only then did Marcia, who had been lying there with her eyes shut, start to panic.

At first she groveled for pity, but when the nurse didn't budge, her composure cracked in an instant and she started cursing.

The nurse wheeled her out of the ICU.

She rolled up in front of me and reached out to grab my arm. I stepped back, so she caught nothing, but she still wouldn't give up.

"Sabrina, I'm not even sixty. I don't want to die."

I said soothingly, "Don't worry, you won't die!"

Her tightly knotted brows had just relaxed when I added, "Your son has already gone to sell the house."

"You're not handling the transfer yourself? Mom's here in the hospital, with doctors and nurses watching her. Don't worry about me, the important thing comes first."

I smiled and told her, "He's selling your house!"

Her eyes went wide, and her voice began to shake. "Wasn't it agreed that we'd sell yours?"

So it turned out the two of them had settled it behind my back all along.

Realizing she'd let it slip, she pretended to ask, "Once it's sold, where will we live?"

Swallowing my disgust, I told her, "Don't you trouble yourself over that. Just focus on getting well. I'm still waiting for you to be discharged!"

Seeing I wasn't taking the bait, she snapped at me out of spite, "Call the doctor to pull my tubes out, I don't want to live either!"

I said, "No rush! Your son will be back any minute now to sign your discharge papers."

Seeing I still wasn't playing along, Marcia was stunned.

I said, "The truth is, he's wanted the tubes pulled for a long time."

"He only put up with you camping out in the hospital because he had his eye on my car and my house."

Since I'd said it so bluntly, Marcia dropped the loving-mother-and-devoted-son act too. She flipped herself upright, sat up in the bed, and cursed at me. "Quit slandering me. Why don't you tell your own mother to go die?"

Her mouth twitched with fury.

I said, unhurried, "My mom's healthy as a horse. She did two hours of Zumba just last night! Today she was going to bring you some chicken soup. I told her feeding it to you would be more of a waste than feeding a dog."

"She's probably feeding it to a dog right about now!"

That set Marcia off, jabbing a finger at my nose and screaming.

"Don't get too pleased with yourself. What goes around comes around..."

I slapped her finger down. "That's right. You've had it so easy for so long that now you'll wish you were dead!"

She couldn't understand why I'd turned so vicious.

She kept rolling her eyes at me in rage. She'd just opened her mouth to curse me again.

I raised my hand and swung.

Of course, I missed on purpose. My palm swept past the side of her face, and it drained the color right out of her.

"You spew one more word of filth, and I stop taking care of you. If you don't want to lie in your own piss and shit and roll around in it, then shut your mouth!"

Marcia obediently shut her mouth and said nothing more.

Her mouth was shut, but her eyes looked like they wanted to cut me to pieces.

I knew she was waiting for Egbert to come deal with me, but I didn't care.

I taunted her, "I'd love nothing more than for you to hurry up and put your son up to it. Then I could finally wash you off my hands like the mess you are!"

"You... you... how can you be so cruel? Are you really trying to make me drop dead from anger?"

"Make you drop dead? That'd be letting you off too easy."

In my heart I thought: I'd much rather you lie in that hospital bed and live to a hundred.

4: 4

Marcia's eyes flickered with surprise, but she caught herself fast.

When she spoke to me, her voice stayed gentle. The look on her face, though, was strained to the bone.

"Sabrina, from the day you married into this family, have I ever treated you badly? I've been sick a few days and already you can't stand caring for me?"

I watched her, half a smile on my lips. So the hard approach failed and now it was time for the soft one.

Too bad neither worked on me anymore.

"Don't go working yourself up over nothing," I said. "And don't get all upset either. Rest up first. Save the performance for when Egbert gets here."

The words were barely out before I couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud.

From the day I stepped into the Chavez house, I'd honored Egbert's mother like she was my own. Never talked back. Never ran my mouth in front of her, and certainly never with this kind of nerve.

I wasn't about to tell her, of course, that from the moment I woke up, no matter how she and Egbert put on their show, I wouldn't believe a single comma of it.

Especially since what Egbert really wanted was to get his hands on my property.

He was dead set on bleeding me dry and taking everything. No way he'd actually sell his own place, and no way he'd spend a real dime treating Marcia.

Marcia's face went ashen with rage, furious but not daring to say it.

I ignored her anger.

Once I'd gotten her settled, I figured I'd step out of the room for some air.

I didn't expect Egbert's voice to carry up from the stairwell.

"You can't actually list my house for sale!"

"If you don't list it, the whole thing falls apart."

That was Ellie Parsons, the real estate agent.

In my last life, I'd handed my house over to her and it sold in barely two days. I thought I was lucky. It never once crossed my mind that she and Egbert were in it together.

"Relax, I've already put out the word. We won't be bringing anyone to see your place. All you need to do right now is get that nag to sign the listing over and sell her house fast."

Then came Egbert's voice, worked up and impatient. "The witch has a real temper today. I'm going to have to hit her with something big."

"Something big like what?"

"Get my mom discharged!"

Ellie was so shocked her voice shook. "Are you insane? Your mother's in terrible shape. Don't go getting someone killed!"

"Relax, I know my limits. You can't catch the wolf if you're too soft to risk the goat."

Ellie started to talk him out of it, but Egbert cut her off. "That woman's soft-hearted. She sees my mom slipping and she won't just stand by and let her die. She'll cough up the money for treatment like a good little girl."

Hearing that last line, even braced for it, I couldn't stop my scalp from prickling.

This was a con aimed straight at me.

Even if it cost his mother's life to sell the act, from start to finish the whole thing was set up to trap one person. Me.

Too bad the prey from before had already come back. Now who was the prey and who was the hunter was anyone's guess.

The thought pulled a cold smile out of me as I stepped back into the room.

Marcia saw me and ordered, imperious, "I'm not feeling well. Go get the doctor for me."

I smiled at her. "If you're not feeling well, tough it out. You'll get used to it soon enough."

"And if you can't get used to it, well, there's only one road left. Waiting to die."

She looked at me, that half-smile again, her eyes full of certainty.

"Don't worry. You'll die before I do."

She'd barely finished when the door swung open.

Egbert appeared in front of us, drenched in sweat, breathing hard, his face frantic, his eyes vicious.

"Mom, your son's useless" He got halfway through before the tears started falling.

Marcia asked, all confusion, "What happened?"

I knew perfectly well the two of them were putting on a show. Part of me wanted to play along, but I couldn't find the opening.

"I just came back from the real estate agency. They said even if we sell cheap, it takes time. It won't help us fast enough. Mom, I'm a terrible son, but can we get you discharged first"

Egbert got that far and then broke into loud, heaving sobs. I stared at him, blank.

The acting was worthy of an award.

Before I could tear the mask off him, Marcia glared at me, venomous. "Go handle your mother-in-law's discharge!"