Mom Awaits ICU Money; Husband Gives Millions to Sister

After the wedding, I was the one holding up the entire Fox family on my million-a-year salary.

I handed over three hundred thousand to build my in-laws a three-story house. I pulled strings to land my brother-in-law a job everyone envied. Even my sister-in-law's two-hundred-thousand dowry went on my card.

Then my mother was rushed into the ICU with acute heart failure. Eight hundred thousand for surgery, and the clock was screaming. I went to withdraw the million in savings from our joint account, and found the card empty.

Eyes red, I demanded an answer from my husband, Piers Fox. He said it as if it were nothing. "I used it to open a salon for my foster sister!"

My mother-in-law sneered and said a woman her age wouldn't be any great loss if she died, so I should stop throwing money away.

What chilled me even more was this: the asthma medication I'd been taking for three years had been secretly swapped for vitamins.

At the bank ATM near the hospital, I inserted the joint card and checked the balance.

Looking at the number on the screen, my scalp went numb and my heart dropped.

Three hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-six cents?!

Fingers trembling, I opened the transaction history. A week ago, the full million had been transferred out all at once. The name on the receiving account: Lauren Dickerson.

I knew that name. She was the "foster sister" Piers was always mentioning. She'd suddenly gotten back in touch with him six months ago, saying she wanted to come to the city and make something of herself, and Piers had already brought up wanting to give her a hand.

Shaking, I called Piers, but the call wouldn't go through.

Clutching the card, I hailed a cab straight home.

When I pushed the door open, my mother-in-law, Deborah Chavez, was sitting on the couch cracking party mix nuts, spitting shells all over the floor.

She saw me come in and said in that mocking tone of hers, "Well, well. So you finally deigned to come back?"

"I thought you were going to sit at your mother's bedside for the rest of your life!"

"There's no breakfast made in this house. You trying to starve us?"

I ground my teeth and demanded, "Where's Piers?"

Deborah's voice went sour. "Where else? Catching up on sleep in the bedroom!"

"He was up half the night playing cards with a client. He's worn out. A man out entertaining is taking care of real business. You're not even home to look after him. Not one bit of sense in you!"

"I heard about your mother's condition. Almost sixty years old, and you want to blow eight hundred thousand on surgery? Pure waste. In the end you'll lose the money and the person both."

Furious, I said, "Do you even know your son transferred the million out of my card?"

"He gave the money to that Lauren Dickerson"

Before I could finish, she planted her hands on her hips and snapped at me. "You married my son, so your money is my son's money!"

"Let me tell you something, Lorraine Donaldson. You've been married into the Fox family for three years and there's not been a peep out of your belly. We haven't thrown you out yet, and that's us being generous! So what if he spends a little of your money?"

"Besides, Piers took that money for real business. Worth a lot more than saving your mother, that half-dead deadweight!"

The bedroom door opened. Piers, face full of displeasure, said, "What's this fit you're throwing first thing in the morning?"

"Lauren's a young girl out here trying to make it on her own. It isn't easy. So what if I helped her out?"

"We're all family. Do you really have to be this petty?"

I said coldly, "You people claim Lauren Dickerson as 'family.' I don't."

"My mother is lying in the ICU right now waiting on that money to save her life. Get the money back, now!"

He tugged at the collar of his pajamas, irritated. "Lauren's salon just opened. All the money's sunk into it. There's nothing to pull out right now."

"Aren't you the one making a million a year? Go borrow some from your coworkers, your friends. You're the one everybody likes."

I was about to blow up. "You take my money to open a salon for an outsider, and I'm the one who has to go borrow?"

He stuck his neck out stubbornly. "What outsider? She's my foster sister! Back when I was in college, she helped me out!"

"Anyway, it's not even certain your mother will make it off the operating table. Don't spend the money just to lose her too, wasting eight hundred thousand for nothing."

Deborah, beside him, jumped right in. "If you ask me, conservative treatment is enough. Let her live out however many days she's got left. Stop wasting our family's money."

I looked at the two of them, mother and son, and felt cold all over. Three years of feeling for these people, and it was nothing but a joke.

I didn't argue with them anymore. I turned, grabbed my bag, and walked out.

Downstairs at the front of the complex, I called my best friend, Eleanor Pruitt. I'd barely gotten out the words "My mom's in the ICU" before the tears broke loose.

Eleanor came straight over with money and went with me to the hospital to pay.

When she'd heard the whole thing, she was so angry she stamped her foot. "I told you back then he was a social climber with too much on his mind, and you wouldn't listen!"

"Well, now look. He'll even touch your mother's life-saving money. What are you still doing living with a man like that?"

I sat on the bench outside the ICU and murmured, "I always thought he was just family-minded, that he wasn't a bad person at heart."

"Now I finally understand. In his heart, my mother and I were always outsiders."

Toward evening, the doctor said the surgery was set for early the next morning, and the success rate was very high.

I let out a breath. In my heart, the decision was already made.

This marriage was over!

But before the divorce, everything they owed me, I was going to take back.

The next morning my mother's surgery went smoothly. When they wheeled her out, she was still weak, but she was awake.

I held her hand, and the dread that had hung over me for days finally settled.

That afternoon I went home for a change of clothes and my asthma medication. I'd been running on nothing for days, my chest kept feeling tight, and my asthma was starting to act up.

I pushed open the front door. No one was home. Deborah was probably out doing her dance class in the square.

I went straight into the master bedroom and pulled down the storage box from the top of the closet to dig out a thick coat. My hand went in and hit something hard, a can.

It was a can of imported baby formula.

We didn't have a child. Why would there be baby formula?

I kept digging and pulled out a few infant onesies.

At the very bottom was a prenatal record. I picked it up. The name field read "Lauren Dickerson," twenty-one weeks pregnant, chart opened just over two months ago.

I gripped that record, and my fingers were shaking.

So Lauren wasn't Piers's foster sister. She was his mistress.

The million he'd moved out of the account was to set her up with a shop and raise the baby.

I breathed in, over and over, forcing myself calm.

Just then Piers came home, a young woman in a white dress trailing behind him, her makeup done up nicely. It was Lauren.

Lauren saw me and a flicker of surprise crossed her face, like she hadn't expected me back at this hour.

Then she came over, all smiles. "Hi. I'm Lauren. Piers must have mentioned me."

"I just came by to pick up a few things. Sorry to intrude."

As she spoke, she slid her hand through Piers's arm, easy as anything, so cozy it was obscene.

Piers looked uncomfortable and tried to pull his arm back, but Lauren only gripped it tighter.

I leaned in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed, watching her. "Picking up the baby formula? Or the change of clothes you've been keeping here?"

Lauren's face went white for an instant, then she turned to Piers, wounded. "Piers, look, I think she's got the wrong idea about us..."

I gave a cold laugh and flung the prenatal record down in front of them. "Lauren. Twenty-one weeks pregnant. The baby's Piers's, isn't it?"

Piers's face drained white. He said quickly, "Lorraine, let me explain, it's not what you think..."

I cut him off. "Then tell me. Whose baby is she carrying?"

"Why are her things in our master bedroom? Was that million to open the salon so you could keep her and raise the baby?"

Before Piers could answer, Deborah's voice came from the doorway. "And what if it is?"

She strode in and said to me, brazen, "Lorraine, we're past the point of hiding it from you."

"Lauren's carrying Piers's child. We've already had it checked at the hospital. A big healthy boy, no less!"

"Three years married and you couldn't even drop an egg. You can't expect the Fox line to just die out, can you?"

"Lauren's a sensible girl. She doesn't want a title, she just wants to give Piers a child. From now on you wait on her properly, and once the baby's born, we'll register it under your name. Count yourself lucky."

I was shaking with rage. "He cheats on me during our marriage, moves our shared money to his mistress, and you want me to wait on that mistress while she has his baby?"

"Deborah, are you insane, or am I?"

Piers frowned and scolded me. "Is that any way to talk to my mother? What's with the attitude?"

"Since you've found out, I'll tell you straight. Lauren's carrying my child, which makes her the one who's saved this family."

"You're the legal wife. Isn't looking after her exactly what you should be doing?"

"I'm telling you, Lorraine, you'd better be smart about this, or else..."

I cut him off, my voice cold. "Or else what? You'll divorce me?"

"Piers, you cheated during our marriage and moved marital assets. If this really goes to court, you think it'll go your way?"

Deborah snorted. "Who can prove the baby's Piers's?"

"Who can prove Piers gave her the money?"

"For all anyone knows, you spent that million yourself and are turning around to frame us!"

Lauren was wiping tears too, head down, murmuring, "I know I'm the one in the wrong. Don't blame Piers, and don't blame his mother."

"If you really can't stand having me around, then I'll go. Worst case I'll have the baby on my own..."

Deborah grabbed her at once. "You're carrying the eldest grandson of this family. You're not going anywhere. If anyone's leaving, it's certain people who take up space and do nothing!"

As she said it, she shot me a vicious glare.

I looked at the three of them and suddenly there was nothing left to argue about.

I took a deep breath and forced the anger down. "Fine. I understand."

The three of them froze for a second, probably not expecting me to "cave" so fast.

A trace of smugness crossed Piers's face, and his tone softened. "Lorraine, I'm glad you've come around."

"Lauren's really a good person. You two will get along fine from now on..."

I cut him off, picking up the suitcase I'd packed. "I just think arguing with you people is a waste of time."

"Piers. We'll see."

Once I was out the door, I messaged Evan James, my law-school classmate who'd become an attorney. I sent him the transfer records and the recording of the fight that had just happened, and asked him what my odds were if I filed for divorce over something like this.

Evan replied fast: Hiding marital assets plus infidelity. If the evidence holds up, there's a strong chance the other side walks away with a reduced share or nothing at all, and you can also claim damages for emotional distress.

Thinking back on everything that had just happened in that house, my chest went tight. I coughed twice and quickly pulled out my inhaler and gave it a spray.

Looking at the little bottle in my hand, something suddenly came back to me.

Starting last month, I'd felt like the inhaler wasn't working the way it used to. Every time I used it, my chest still felt heavy. At the time I'd chalked it up to too many late nights making the condition worse.

Now, though, I wondered if maybe

I shook my head. I didn't dare follow that thought.

My mother recovered well after the surgery. Within three days she was moved to a regular room.

I worked at the office during the day and went straight to the hospital afterward to sit with her, run off my feet the whole time. So I rented a short-term apartment near the hospital and didn't go back to that house.

A week later, the company had a proposal for a ten-million-dollar project, a major client I'd been cultivating for half a year. It mattered enormously.

That morning I was rushing and left my inhaler back at the apartment, so I drove all the way back to get it.

The moment I had it, I hurried to the office, and before the meeting I even gave myself two extra sprays, afraid I'd have an attack if I got nervous.

Halfway through the meeting, right as I got to the core of the plan, my chest suddenly went tight. Breathing got harder and harder, like a hand was clamped down on my windpipe.

Something's wrong, I thought, and quickly took out the bottle and sprayed twice more toward my throat.

But strangely, there wasn't the slightest relief. If anything, the wheezing got worse. My vision started to go black, and the voices around me drifted further and further away.

"Lorraine? Lorraine, what's wrong?"

"I think she's having an asthma attack! Call an ambulance!"

My coworkers' voices were a chaotic blur. Before I lost consciousness, there was only one thought in my head: the medicine's wrong!

When I came to again, I was lying in a bed in the ER.

My best friend, Eleanor, sat at my side, her eyes red.

When she saw me open my eyes, she let out a breath. "You're finally awake. You scared me to death!"

"The doctor said a few minutes later and you'd have been gone!"

"What happened to you? How do you grab the wrong inhaler?"

I asked hoarsely, "There was something wrong with the inhaler I carry?"

Eleanor picked up the bottle beside the bed and handed it to me. "The doctor said there's no asthma medicine in there at all. It's just an ordinary vitamin C spray! Were you careless and grabbed the wrong one?"

I took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and looked inside.

It was the brand I always used, identical on the outside, but the medicine inside had been swapped out.

A chill shot through my whole body.

This bottle, I kept on the nightstand at the apartment the whole time.

And in that stretch of time, the only people who'd been to the apartment I was renting were Piers and Deborah.

Last week the two of them, mother and son, had come over there and flat-out ordered me to move back home, the whole point being that they wanted me to stop making trouble and, while I was at it, wait on that pregnant Lauren.

I'd had to call the building's security to get the two of them thrown out!

Now that I thought about it, Deborah had stood in front of my nightstand for quite a while that day.

I was discharged that afternoon and went straight back to the old house.

I pushed open the door. Deborah was trimming vegetables, Lauren sat on the couch eating fruit, and Piers wasn't home from work yet.

Seeing me come in, Deborah said in that snide tone of hers, "So you still know your way back? I figured you'd died out there somewhere!"

Lauren, all lady-of-the-house, said, "You're back? Come, sit!"

I ignored Lauren and said coldly to Deborah, "My inhaler. You switched it, didn't you?"

Deborah's hands paused over the vegetables. She put on an innocent face. "I don't know anything about that. You don't put your own things away, and now you're asking me?"

I took a step forward and stared into her eyes. "Besides you and Piers, no one's been in my bedroom."

"The doctor said the thing was full of vitamins. I had an asthma attack at the office today. I almost died in that meeting room."

Seeing she couldn't hide it anymore, she went shrill. "So I switched it, so what? What's the big deal?"

"And look at you, you're fine, aren't you? You didn't die!"

I stared at her, unable to believe it. "Deborah, an acute asthma attack can kill someone. This is attempted murder!"

She slapped her thigh and shouted, "What would an old woman like me know? Your body's weak, and whose fault is that?"

We were still going at it when Piers got home.

The second she saw him, Deborah threw herself at him, wailing. "Piers! Your wife's bullying me!"

"All because I touched one of her bottles, she says I'm a murderer, wants to have me hauled off to prison"

Piers hurried to hold her up, then turned and frowned at me. "Lorraine, are you done making a scene? My mom didn't understand. Do you really have to blow it up like this?"

I almost laughed from the anger. "Piers, your mother swapped my inhaler for vitamins. She was clearly trying to hurt me."

"I almost died at the office today, and you think 'she didn't understand' just makes it go away?"

He said impatiently, "Well, you're standing here just fine, aren't you?"

"Worst case, I'll buy you a new bottle. What's the big deal. All this arguing, day in and day out, aren't you tired of it?"

"My mom's getting on in years. Can't you cut her some slack?"

I gave a cold laugh. "Piers, let me ask you this. The medicine switch, did you have a hand in it too?"

"Otherwise how would your mother, an old woman from the country, know which vitamin bottle looks the same as an inhaler?"

His eyes flickered, and then he snapped, "What are you talking about! Lorraine, don't go slinging accusations!"

His reaction was so strong it only confirmed what I'd guessed.

Looking at this man in front of me, I suddenly felt like I didn't know him at all.

Three years of marriage, and he could stand there and watch his mother switch my medicine, watch me go to my death.

I didn't argue anymore. I picked up the bottle and put it in my bag.

Calmly, I said, "Remember what you both said today. Don't regret it later."

With that I turned and walked out. Behind me came Deborah's cursing. "Who does she think she is, giving people attitude. If you're leaving, then never come back!"

I didn't look back.

Downstairs, I called Evan and went through the whole thing about the switched medicine.

Evan said, "Keep the bottle. There should be fingerprints on it."

"Also, it'd be best to get a recording of them admitting out loud that they switched the medicine on purpose. That's much more convincing."

Two days later, Piers texted me. His mother was turning sixty, and there'd be a birthday dinner at a restaurant in town over the weekend. I had to be there, and I had to bring a two-thousand-dollar cash gift.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then typed one word back: Fine.

Then I picked up my phone and called the private detective.

Saturday was Deborah's sixtieth birthday.

I dressed up on purpose, grabbed my bag, and headed to the restaurant in town.

The moment I walked into the banquet hall, I saw the Fox relatives packed into more than a dozen tables, loud and lively.

Deborah sat surrounded by a crowd of older women, grinning ear to ear.

When she saw me come in, the smile froze on her face for a second before she put on that fake warmth. "Oh, Lorraine, you made it? Sit, sit, we've been waiting for you."

Piers sat beside the head table. When he saw me, a smug look crossed his face, as if to say, I knew you wouldn't dare stay away.

Lauren was there too, in a loose dress, seated next to Deborah, her belly rounded out, playing the sweet, sensible daughter-in-law.

I didn't say a word. I found a seat off to the side and sat down.

Once the dinner started, glasses clinked, and the room roared with chatter.

After a few rounds of drinks, Deborah stood up, glass in hand.

"Today's my sixtieth birthday, and all my family and friends have come out to celebrate with me. This old lady is happy!"

"Since everyone's here, I've got two things to announce."

"First, Piers's brother, Paul Fox, is getting married soon, and the bride's family wants a home in a good downtown school district."

She looked at me, her face full of that false smile. "Lorraine, don't you have a school-district apartment downtown? A hundred and twenty square meters. Perfect for a wedding home."

"We're all family. The way I see it, sign it over to Paul. Call it a little something from the woman married into this family."

The words were barely out before the relatives chimed in. "That's right! Lorraine's got it made. What's one apartment to her?"

"Exactly. When your husband's younger brother marries, of course his brother's wife should hand over an apartment!"

"We're all family. The elder brother's wife stands in for a mother. You can't just let Paul stay a bachelor!"

My face stayed calm. I didn't respond.

Seeing I wasn't arguing, Deborah grew even smugger and went on. "Second thing. My foster daughter, Lauren, is pregnant, so from now on she'll be resting at home to keep the baby safe."

"Lorraine, you'll need to work a little harder from now on. Wait on Lauren carefully through her pregnancy, and once the baby's born, you get properly ready to have one yourself. Give it a real try."

That set the whole room buzzing louder, aunts and old women all talking over each other. "The mother-in-law's really thought of everything! A woman earning a lot of money isn't much of a skill. Taking care of the family is her real duty!"

"Exactly. Wait on Lauren well, give the family a big fat boy. That's the greatest achievement there is!"

"Lorraine, your mother-in-law's only looking out for you. Just say yes, don't upset an elder."

Piers sat beside me and lowered his voice into a threat. "Nod and agree. Don't make me lose face in front of the relatives."

"Being good to your elders is your duty as a wife"

I turned my head and looked at him. There was a certain smile on his face, like he had me pegged, like he was sure I'd give in the way I always had, for the sake of the big picture.

One of the aunts kept pressing. "Lorraine, say something. Don't just sit there stewing."

"You married into the Fox family, so you're one of us now. Everything you own naturally belongs to the Foxes. It's such a small thing. You wouldn't say no, would you?"

Paul, the younger brother, had a cigarette between his lips and drawled lazily, "My brother brought you home to wait on this family. What's the problem with you handing over an apartment? Once I've got a son, I might even put in a good word for you."

Fay Fox, the younger sister, joined in. "That's right, Lorraine. A woman comes back to her family in the end, no matter what."

"No matter how much money you make, what's the point if you can't have a child?"

The whole table went back and forth, one voice after another, like a swarm of buzzing flies.

They all assumed I'd cave.

The old me might have.

For the sake of so-called family harmony, to spare Piers embarrassment, I'd backed down again and again, wronged myself again and again.

Not anymore.

I stood up slowly, and every eye in the room turned to me.

Deborah smiled, satisfied. "There we go. Sensible girl"

Before she could finish, I slammed my bowl and chopsticks down on the table.

The whole room went dead silent in an instant.

Everyone froze, staring at me blankly.

Deborah reacted first, pointing at me and shrieking, "Lorraine, have you lost your mind? Smashing dishes on a day like this? You're doing this to spite me on purpose, aren't you?"

Piers shot to his feet too, his face livid. "Lorraine, are you done yet? What's gotten into you?"