Mom Died Two Years Ago, Yet Brother Demands Her Medical Fees

In my seventh year working in Dellton, I ran into an old classmate who happened to be in town on vacation.

Only then did I learn that my mother had actually passed away two years ago.

But just yesterday my brother had asked me for money, saying we didn't have enough for Mom's medical bills.

Looking at that $30,000 transfer, and all the transfers I'd made over the past two years.

I just felt a wave of tightness in my chest.

I bought a plane ticket and flew home overnight.

But at the entrance of the housing complex, I saw my brother's family of five, all together and happy.

The bag on his wife's arm was the newest Louis Vuitton, worth $200,000.

My brother's car key was for a Porsche, over $800,000 out the door.

And my nephew and niece were wearing the uniforms of a private prep school.

I rushed up like a madwoman and demanded answers.

But my brother slammed on the gas and ran me down, killing me.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn five years in the past.

In this life, I will make that ungrateful leech who devoured my mother's medical money pay the price!

The pain of being crushed by the car hadn't faded yet.

I struggled up out of the bed.

I fished out the phone from under my pillow, and only then realized I had actually been reborn.

Reborn back to five years ago.

The second year of my mother's illness.

My mother fell ill during my first year abroad.

High blood pressure, heart disease, diabetes, and a few other medical terms.

Spencer said it wasn't serious, but she had to go to the hospital every month.

And she had to take medicine.

Imported medicine from overseas cost two thousand a bottle.

Just the medication alone came to nearly ten thousand a month.

Back then, my monthly salary was only twenty thousand.

Spencer didn't have much education.

He worked as a mechanic at an auto repair shop, earning only $5,000 a month.

A $5,000 salary had to support a family of four.

He cried and said he really had no money to buy Mom's medicine.

With no choice, all I could do was transfer him money every month.

Later, he said Mom had bladder stones and kidney stones.

Breast nodules, lung nodules.

All minor conditions.

But a single surgery cost ten or twenty thousand.

Every time he asked me for money, I gave it.

I told him I wanted to see Mom.

Either he'd say he was too busy and didn't have time.

Or he'd say Mom was already asleep, don't disturb her.

I was busy with work back then, and he often sent me photos and videos of Mom.

So I never thought anything of it.

And later.

Mom's illness kept getting worse.

Heart valve replacement.

Uremia.

Thyroid cancer.

When I found out, my first instinct was to buy a plane ticket home.

Spencer panicked when he heard I wanted to come back.

He talked me out of it: "Sis, there's no point in you coming back. You'd be better off earning more money."

"Mom can't be left alone here, and I have to work, so I hired a caregiver for her. That's $300 a day!"

"And Mom's supplements, those all cost money too!"

"Don't worry, Sis, I've got Mom here. You just focus on making money."

"I don't have the ability to earn money, so all I can do is stay by Mom's bedside and be a dutiful son."

Back then I was so moved I cried.

I thought, thank goodness my brother is here.

Otherwise I'd have to earn money and take care of Mom all by myself.

There'd be no way to manage it all.

So I worked even harder to make money.

As long as Spencer opened his mouth to ask for money.

No matter how much, I transferred it.

In just seven short years, I transferred Spencer more than 0-0.3 million.

I thought all that money was being spent on Mom's treatment.

But I never imagined that Mom had actually died of her illness two years ago.

And yet Spencer was still constantly asking me for money.

Today Mom needed her medicine.

Tomorrow she needed a checkup.

The day after, something else was wrong with her.

Not only did he hide Mom's death from me.

He kept using it as an excuse to take money from me.

And even after I found out.

He didn't hesitate to stomp on the gas and run me over, killing me right there.

Thinking back over everything from my last life.

I just felt that tightness in my chest.

I immediately bought a ticket on the very next flight home.

I wanted to see for myself.

Whether Mom really was sick.

Or whether someone was using the excuse of Mom being sick to swindle money out of me!

The plane landed on the afternoon of the third day.

I didn't go home.

The first thing I did was go straight to the local general hospital.

Whenever Mom got sick, she'd always go to this hospital.

I checked the inpatient department, but there was no record of her being admitted.

I went to the community hospital and Mercy General Hospital too.

I went to every major hospital, and none of them had anyone named Louisa Lambert.

It was September.

Standing at the hospital entrance, I felt cold chills running down my back.

So Mom was never sick at all?

Those so-called surgeries, those so-called imported drugs.

Was it all fake?

I clenched my teeth hard and took a cab to my brother's house.

My heart was racing as I slid the key into the lock.

I was afraid Mom would be home, and just as afraid she wouldn't.

I turned the key, and the door clicked open.

The place was a bit of a mess.

The trash can was full of takeout wrappers.

The sofa was piled high with clothes.

Further in, the master bedroom was Spencer and Pearl's room.

The second bedroom belonged to my nephew and niece.

The little room next to the bathroom was Mom's.

But now.

That little room had been turned into a walk-in closet.

There wasn't a single trace of Mom ever having lived in the house.

Impossible!

Just last month Spencer said Mom had been discharged.

That he'd brought her home.

So why was there no sign anywhere that Mom had ever lived here?

My mom doesn't know how to use a smartphone.

I bought her a basic phone for seniors, but she just tossed it aside.

She didn't want to use it, and she wouldn't learn.

So there was no way for me to reach her at all.

I forced down the panic and frustration churning inside me.

I sat on the sofa and dialed Spencer's number.

The phone rang three times before he picked up.

It was noisy on his end.

I could faintly hear the clatter of a keyboard.

I did my best to keep my emotions in check.

"Spencer, I'm back in the country."

There were three seconds of silence on the other end.

Spencer's voice was clearly flustered.

"Sis, why didn't you say a word about coming back!"

"Where are you right now?"

"At home."

The other end went quiet again.

After a long while, he finally spoke.

"Sis, hold on, I'll be right back!"

"Wait for me!"

The call was hung up in a hurry.

The fingertips gripping my phone had gone slightly pale.

I would wait. I'd wait for Spencer to come back.

Wait for him to explain to me why there was nothing of Mom's in the house.

Why the hospitals couldn't find Mom either!

Five minutes later, the front door opened.

Pearl came in from outside, breathing hard.

A flicker of panic crossed her eyes when she saw me, but she quickly regained her composure.

She looked at me with a smile on her lips.

"Sis, why didn't you tell us you were coming back!"

"And how did youhow did you just open the door and let yourself in!"

Her voice was soft, but it carried a hint of complaint.

The house belongs to my mother, so isn't it perfectly normal for me, as her daughter, to have a key?

I stared into her eyes. "Which hospital is Mom in?"

Her eyes darted around, and she wouldn't look at me.

"I'm asking you. Which hospital is Mom in?"

She licked her lips and lowered her head. "That was all Spencer's doing. II don't know!"

"Mom was hospitalized that long, and you, as her daughter-in-law, don't even know which hospital she was in?"

Pearl panicked.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Spencer's number.

Her voice was full of complaint. "Why aren't you back yet! Hurry up!"

"Your sister's asking which hospital Mom is in!"

Whatever was said on the other end, Pearl hung up.

When she looked at me again, her attitude was much tougher.

"How would I know? When we got married we agreedwhoever's parents they are, that person takes care of them!"

"Your mother didn't give birth to me or raise me, so what does her illness have to do with me?"

I nodded. "Fine. Then let's wait for Spencer to come back!"

Twenty minutes later, Spencer came back.

His back was soaked with sweat, and his forehead was covered in sweat too.

It was obvious he'd run the whole way home.

I sat with my legs crossed and stared into his eyes.

"Which hospital is Mom in?"

Spencer raised a hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Sis, why didn't you tell us you were coming back!"

I suddenly raised my voice. "I'm asking you. Which hospital is Mom in?"

Spencer swallowed hard. "MomMom was discharged!"

"Discharged? Then why isn't she home?"

"Spencer, don't tell me you kicked Mom out?"

Spencer's eyes shifted away. "Sis, now you're going too far. What do you mean I kicked Mom out? She didn't want to live with us herself!"

"So where is she now?"

Spencer lowered his head, not daring to meet my eyes.

"The hometown."

"The hometown?!"

My voice shot up.

"Mom's in poor health, she's sick, and you sent her back to the hometown all alone?"

"Spencer, is there something wrong with you?"

I didn't want to argue with Spencer.

I grabbed my bag and headed out.

When I reached the elevator, I heard Pearl's voice.

"Will your sister find out?"

Spencer said, "Don't worry, Mom won't see her."

His tone was so certain.

So certain that even I started to waver.

Back when I went abroad, my whole family was against it.

My mom said a girl had no business going that far away.

The relatives said that if something happened to your mother while you were gone, you wouldn't even get to see her one last time.

But I insisted on going.

The job market at home was just too bad.

And my boss had promised that if I agreed to go, my first-year salary would be $200,000.

After that it would rise year by year based on performance.

Seven years later, my annual income had reached 0-0.3 million.

But precisely because I wouldn't listen to them and insisted on going,

I had a terrible falling-out with my mom.

She even swore she'd cut all ties with me if I went abroad.

My mom blocked every way of contacting me.

For the past two years, we hadn't so much as spoken on the phone once.

Every bit of contact I had with my mom

went through Spencer.

High-speed rail, then a bus, then a three-wheeler.

By the time I reached the hometown, it was already pitch dark.

I hadn't been back since I graduated from high school.

Ten years had passed now.

But the hometown looked exactly the same.

I walked up to the door of the house.

The lights were on inside.

Through the window glass, I saw my mom sitting at the dining table.

There was only a small dish of pickled scraps on the table.

She was taking little bites of rice with the pickled scraps.

I didn't know how my mom had gotten by all these years.

The hometown had no cell phone, no TV, no air conditioning.

There wasn't even a water heater.

Even the lights were the oldest kind of tungsten-filament bulbs,

glowing a warm, orange-yellow light.

I shut my eyes for a moment, then pushed the door open.

Hearing the sound, my mom turned her head.

The instant she saw me, she froze.

Soon her eyes went red.

But just as quickly, she turned her face away and ignored me.

"What are you here for? Didn't you want to cut ties with me?"

My mom's voice was dry, but a little shaky.

Hearing her say that, my nose went red at once.

Tears fell in big drops.

"Mom! You're alive! Thank goodness!"

In my last life, I didn't even get to see my mom one last time.

Thank heaven I'd been reborn into a year when my mother was still alive.

My mom was stunned by my reaction.

She stared at me blankly.

It was a long while before she rapped my head with her chopsticks.

"Pah, pah, pah! Who are you cursing? I'm perfectly healthy! What's all this talk of alive or not!"

"Didn't you go abroad? So you still remember how to come home!"

I took hold of my mom and looked her over from every angle. "Mom, weren't you sick? How's your health now? Have you taken your medicine?"

My mother stared straight at me, her eyes full of resentment and guilt.

"Didn't you say you weren't going to look after me anymore?"

"When did I ever stop looking after you?"

I pulled out my phone and held the bank transfer records up in front of her.

Living expenses, medical bills, surgery fees, hospital fees, caregiver fees.

Starting at 0-00,000 a month, then up to 0-05,000, then to $20,000.

Every single transfer had a note: Take good care of Mom.

My mom snatched the phone away and swiped through the screen.

Her eyes were full of disbelief.

As she looked, the tears started to fall.

"This much money? You sent your brother all this money?"

"But your brother said you didn't intend to acknowledge me anymore!"

"He only gives me three hundred a month."

Three hundred.

He asked me for ten or twenty thousand a month.

And gave Mom three hundred.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

It hurt even to breathe.

That night I pulled up every bill I'd paid Spencer over the past two years.

The first year, he said Mom needed imported medicine.

He sent me photos of the medicine.

I didn't doubt him, and transferred him 0-00,000 every month.

The second year, he said Mom's blood vessels were blocked and she'd had a stent put in that cost $60,000.

Later he said Mom had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, so I transferred him another $60,000.

All in all, counting medicine, surgery, hospitalization, and recovery,

that year I transferred him $250,000.

In just two short years,

by claiming Mom was sick, he'd taken nearly $400,000 from me.

A full $400,000.

Every cent of it money I'd scraped together by living frugally.

I figured it was fine if I ate whatever, however.

Mom's health was what mattered.

But what I never imagined

was that of the money I sent,

Mom hadn't received even 0-00,000.

I saved the transaction history and sent it to Spencer.

"Explain this. Why did I transfer you $400,000, and yet you only give Mom three hundred a month for living expenses?"