For The Tenth Time, My SIL Has Told Me Her Biggest Regret Is That I Married Her Brothers Done Holding Back, I Cut Her S20k Monthly Study-abroad Allowance, A Week Later, A Single Sentence In A Call Left My Husband’s Family Stunned. – Part 2

From me, that’s an average of nearly $1200 a month. And that doesn’t even include the holiday cash I give her in the family’s name. Leo’s company has been having trouble with cash flow since the second half of last year. Several projects have delayed payments. He comes home late every night, so worried he smokes on the balcony in the middle of the night, his brow constantly furrowed.

Do you know about this? Have you ever asked him? In your heart, is there only room for your brilliant daughter studying abroad? The one who needs endless money to network and de-stress. My words were like icicles delivered calmly, but hitting her right where she was most vulnerable. My mother-in-law’s face was flushed, her chest heaving even more violently.

She pointed a finger at me. You You stop using my son to make a point. I don’t understand business matters. That’s between you and your husband Chloe. Chloe might be a bit of a spenthrift, but isn’t that because you two spoiled her as her sister-in-law? Couldn’t you have talked to her, guided her? Did you have to resort to such a drastic measure, cutting off her allowance? She’s all alone in a foreign country.

What will she do without money? How will she eat? Where will she live? If something happens to her, can you take responsibility? She is 25. of Sharon, not five. Legally, she is a fully competent adult, I said, my tone flat but resolute. The first lesson an adult should learn is to be responsible for their own actions. She can choose to get a part-time job.

She can choose to be frugal. She can even apply for a student loan. As for money, I paused looking at her and stating clearly, “She still has a brother who dotes on her like a precious jewel. And a mother who thinks of nothing but her well-being. You are Leo. Whoever feels sorry for her, whoever wants to send her money, I will not stop you.

I won’t say a single word.” But I leaned forward slightly, my gaze locking onto hers, speaking each word with deliberate clarity from me, Grace Miller, from every single scent that I have earned. Not another penny will ever flow into Khloe Miller’s account. The money I’ve given in the past, I’ll just consider it money I threw away on a bad investment.

From now on, it’s impossible. Is what I’m saying clear enough? My mother-in-law stared at me, her eyes wide, her finger trembling as she pointed. She sputtered, “You, you.” Her face turning purple with rage. Finally, she managed to choke out. “Fine, fine, you, Grace. You’ve got your wings now, haven’t you? You’re rich, and you look down on your husband’s family.

You just wait. Wait until Leo gets home. Let’s see if you’re still this arrogant. This family isn’t yours to run.” With that, she snatched her small designer bag, her arm swinging wildly with anger, turned, and slammed the door behind her with all her might. The massive bang reverberated through the spacious living room, seeming to make the crystal chandelier tremble.

I sat on the sofa, unmoving my gaze fixed on the black binder on the coffee table. The dense numbers inside were proof of my foolishness over the years, and also my most powerful weapon now. I reached out, gently, stroking the slightly curled cover, then snapped it shut with a click. I locked it back in the drawer. This was just the beginning.

My mother-in-law’s rage, Leo’s predicament. It was all expected. Next, it would be time for the main character herself to make her move. I picked up the cold water and took a sip. The icy sensation slid down my throat, but it only made my mind clearer. The husband. Leo didn’t get home

until after 11 p.m. I was still awake finishing up some work in the study. I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing shoes being kicked off and then heavy tired footsteps coming up the stairs. He paused at the bedroom door, hesitated, then turned towards the study. He pushed the door open, wreaking of smoke and whiskey. His tie was a skew.

The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his face looked gray and haggarded under the study’s cool white light. My mother-in-law’s furious phone call that afternoon had clearly been embellished, probably with a dramatic, tearful performance. He pulled off his tie, tossed it onto the arm of the nearby armchair, and then sank heavily into the sofa.

His body slumped as he raised a hand to rub his temples, closing his eyes. He sat like that for a long time before opening them to look at me seated behind the desk. His first words were in that exhausted peace at any cost tone. Grace, mom came by this afternoon, didn’t she? What’s going on with you and Chloe? Mom is so angry her blood pressure shot up.

She just took her medication and went to bed. I saved my document, closed my laptop, and folded my hands on the desk looking at him. Why don’t you first ask what your sister did to me, what she said to me. That made me decide to cut off her allowance. Leo sighed again, his voice. Chloe is still young. We spoiled her.

She’s immature and sometimes says things without thinking, without any tact. You’re her sister-in-law. You’re older. Just be patient with her. Don’t stoop to her level. She’s alone in a foreign country. The culture is different and she’s under a lot of academic pressure. It’s normal for her to be a little emotional. Why don’t we just reinstate her allowance? Do it for my sake.

Let’s not blow this out of proportion. It’ll be easier for me to explain to mom. You know how mom is, she dotes on Chloe. The second Chloe cries, mom gets upset. It was the same old tune trying to smooth things over, asking me to be the bigger person, using his sake and the family’s difficulties to emotionally blackmail me.

In the past, I might have softened thinking about family harmony, thinking about how he was caught in the middle, and I would have compromised again and again. But this time, the deep-seated humiliation from that phone call, the words, “The biggest regret of my life was letting my brother marry you,” were like a poison tipped nail driven into my heart, tearing out flesh and blood when, pulled, that combined with the cold disappointment built up over 10 such incidents had turned my heart to stone.

Leo, I cut him off before he could continue his persuasion. My voice clear and calm, especially distinct in the quiet night. First, she is 25, not 15. Legally, she is a fully competent adult who should be responsible for every word she says and every action she takes. Second, she has it tough. Is it tough for her when she’s living lavishly in a foreign country, buying limited edition bags, attending luxurious parties, and flying to Europe to ski whenever she feels like unwinding? Was it easy for you? Working yourself to death, drinking

until you threw up at business dinners when your company’s cash flow was about to dry up and the bank was breathing down your neck for loan payments. Was it easy for me when I had to drink until I was hospitalized with a bleeding stomach ulcer to land a client staying up until 3:00 or 4 in the morning to finish proposals? Does any of our money grow on trees? Does it just appear while we’re lying down? Leo was struck dumb by my barrage of questions.

His exhaustion was quickly tinged with the irritation and shame of having his reality exposed. Then what do you want me to do? Are you saying we should just ignore her? Let her fend for herself in a foreign country. She’s my sister, my own flesh and blood. Can’t you just take a step back for my sake? She is your sister, not mine, I retorted, not giving an inch my tone even colder.

I have no obligation and certainly no reason to use the money I’ve earned through hard work and at the cost of my health to support a sister who treats me like an enemy and an ATM who calls me a thing and wishes I would get out of her family’s house immediately. Leo, I’m making my position clear tonight.

I am cutting off Khloe Miller’s allowance and that’s final. And not just her allowance. From now on, any expense of hers beyond basic tuition and accommodation, I will not pay another scent. That is my bottom line. Leo’s face darkened completely, his weariness replaced by anger. He shot up from the sofa, looking down at me. Grace, do you have to be so rigid, so merciless? Do you still want this family? Do you still want this marriage to work? Can’t you think about the bigger picture for this family? wanting this family and stopping the support of

a two and fiveyear-old giant infant are not mutually exclusive. I also stood up meeting his angry gaze without flinching. Then I played the card I had been preparing, the one that would hit him where it hurt most. If you insist on taking care of her, if you absolutely must continue to unconditionally support Khloe, fine.

We’ll go to a lawyer’s office tomorrow and draw up a formal postnuptual agreement, a clear division of our corporate and personal assets. My company, Aura Designs, and all my investment income will be completely independent of the Miller family with no further connection to you. Your company, Apex Builders, and your income, you can subsidize your sister or even your parents however you want.

I won’t have a single complaint. But my money, my company, no one will touch a single scent of it again, including you. Leo’s head snapped up his pupils, constricting as he stared at me in disbelief as if seeing me for the first time. His lips trembled, and for a long moment, he couldn’t speak. He never imagined I would be so resolute that I would directly propose dividing our assets.

My company, Aura Designs, though not as large in scale as his Apex builders, had the advantage of highquality projects, stable profits, and extremely healthy cash flow. His company, on the other hand, looked impressive on the surface, but was bogged down by several stalled projects and a tight cash flow. It often needed my help with funds or used my company’s credit to secure loans.

If we truly split his company, probably wouldn’t last a few months. You, you, he stammered his face, going from red to white, his voice dry. Are you threatening me? Threatening me with divorce and splitting the family. No, I’m reasoning with you, stating the facts and giving you a choice. I walked around the desk and stood in front of him.

We were so close, I could smell the stale mix of smoke and whiskey on him. The choice is entirely yours. Either you support my decision, go back and manage your mother and your sister and tell them, “My bottom line is not to be crossed.” Then our family can maintain its superficial peace and I will continue to support your company as needed.

Or we do things by the clear rules of business. We separate everything completely. Think about it. You don’t have to answer me right now. With that, I didn’t look at the complex storm of shock, shame, anger, and conflict on his face. I walked straight past him out of the study and back to the master bedroom, locking the door behind me.

I knew the bottom line and the leverage I had just presented were like a sword hanging over him and his family. I also knew he was destined for a sleepless night. He would weigh the pros and cons, calculate the gains and losses, and struggle painfully between family ties and reality. And that was exactly the effect I wanted.

I wanted him to see with absolute clarity that what held this family’s superficial piece together wasn’t kinship, but the tangible capital and capability of me, Grace Miller. Without me, they were nothing. The desperate sister. Sure enough, before Leo could give me his final answer, Khloe’s overseas calls came again relentless as a debt collector.

This time, she’d gotten smarter. Or perhaps she was just furious and called my personal cell phone directly. She timed it well. 10 p.m. our time, 3:00 a.m. in London. She probably figured I’d be woken up and disoriented. I watched the familiar number flash on the screen, letting it ring seven or eight times before I leery answered.

I didn’t speak. I just put the phone on the desk, turned on the speaker, and continued flipping through the industry report in my hands. Grace. Her voice was shrill, raspy from crying, and thick with an undiluted hatred. The background was quiet. She was probably in her luxury apartment. You’re ruthless. You really did it.

You really cut off my money. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few days? My card was declined. I almost couldn’t pay my rent. The bag I wanted got sold to someone else. My friends invited me out and I had to make excuses to decline. You’ve made me lose so much face. I turned to page in the report, my tone flat, almost nonchalant.

Oh, what have you been through? Isn’t it a good thing to experience the life of an ordinary international student or even just an ordinary young person who has to budget and live within their means. This is the real world. Chloe, cut the crap. It’s easy for you to talk. She sounded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly bristling.

Her shriek was a bit piercing over the speaker. Let me tell you, Grace, don’t get too smug. You turn my card back on right now and transfer the money you owe me. Or else, or else I’ll make my brother divorce you. You believe me? My brother loves me the most. And my mom is on my side. You’re an outsider, a parasite. You’ll be kicked out of our Miller family sooner or later.

When you’re old and washed up, we’ll see who wants you then. The word divorce, coming from this sister-in-law who did nothing but spend money and stir up trouble, was absurdly comical. In the past, that word might have filled me with panic with the fear of losing a family I had built for years.

But now, with the leverage I held and the reality I had seen, all I felt was a cold, mocking amusement. Chloe, I said slowly to the air, my voice low, but clear enough. You don’t seem to have grasped the situation yet. First, whether we divorce or not is between your brother and me. It will be decided based on the law, our assets, and our relationship. You don’t get a say.

Second, you probably have no idea about the current state of your brother’s company, Apex Builders, do you? How much debt it has, how tight its cash flow is. Then again, you only care if he can send you money. I can tell you unequivocally that without me, it’s a question whether Apex can survive even 3 months.

Third, the only way you can be kicked out of the Miller family is if the Miller family still has enough money to support you living in a mansion in London, buying luxury goods, and spending lavishly. Do you think if your brother and I really get to the point of divorce and dividing assets given the current laws and the evidence I have, you’ll still be able to get tens of thousands with a single phone call? Do you think your mom, the brother, will be able to maintain their current standard of living? The other end of the line went

silent, a dead, suffocating silence. Only her heavy, rapid breathing from her agitation came through the line, clearly audible. I could imagine her expression, eyes wide, mouth a gape, filled with disbelief and a creeping dread. My words were like a cold scalpel dissecting the cruel truth beneath their glamorous facade, their complete dependence on my support.

I continued pouring a bucket of ice water on her already crumbling world. Do the math. Your designer bags, your luxury clothes, your fancy apartment, your constant parties and gallas. Who’s paying for all that? Do you really have no clue? Is it your brother whose own company is on the brink? Or is it your mother whose monthly pension is less than 2,000? Without me, Grace Miller do.

You think your wonderful brother and mother could give you even a tenth, no 1% of the life you have now? It would be a miracle if they could. So think carefully. Do you want to keep yelling at me and completely piss off your only source of funding? Or do you want to tuck your tail between your legs and start figuring out how to live your life from now on and how you’re going to explain to your brother and mother why you scared away the goose that lays the golden eggs.

You, you, she stammered, her voice trembling and laced with tears, but she couldn’t manage any more tough words. She was clearly furious and terrified, hit squarely in the most fatal and frightening spot. She was used to taking used to being imperious and had never truly considered what would happen to her world if the money tap was turned off.

Don’t make these pointless timewasting calls again. I delivered my final ultimatum, my tone ice cold. If you have the guts, then really convince your brother to come talk to me about divorce and dividing our assets. I’ll be waiting. If you don’t have the guts, then learn to shut up and figure out your own problems.

Your good life ended the moment I hung up on you last time. Remember that. completely ended. This time, before she could make another sound, I decisively pressed the end call button. And for good measure, I blocked her number. The world was quiet again. I could imagine her on the other side of the world in London, throwing her phone in a rage, breaking things frantically, calculating how many more days of her lavish lifestyle her savings could support, and desperately calling her brother and mother crying and applying pressure. But

none of that had anything to do with me anymore. Cutting off her support was just the first step, the most direct form of retaliation. I wanted her and the family that enabled her dependence on me to slowly and clearly experience what it means to go from extravagance to frugality and what having it tough really means.

The seeds of panic had been sewn. Now it was time for them to take root, sprout, and torment them day and night. The unraveling. On the seventh day, after cutting off the allowance, the atmosphere at home was eerily calm. But beneath the silence, an undercurrent was churning. Leo continued to leave early and return late, avoiding me as much as possible.

On the rare occasions we crossed paths, his eyes would dart away, and he’d look like he wanted to say something, only to walk past in silence. My mother-in-law, Sharon, hadn’t come over to cause a scene either, which I found unusual. It wasn’t in her character to be this quiet. Sure enough, that afternoon, just as I returned from a client meeting, and before I’d even changed out of my workclo, the doorbell rang.

It wasn’t the furious insistent ringing from before, but a hesitant, intermittent ding-dong, ding-dong. I checked the security monitor. It was my mother-in-law. She stood outside, clutching her phone tightly, repeatedly glancing down at the screen. Her face wasn’t angry, but a mixture of panic, worry, and suspicion.

Her eyes darted around as if she had a guilty conscience. I opened the door. When she saw me, she forced a smile that was more unnatural than a grimace. Grace. Ah, you’re back. It was rare for her to speak in such a placating tone. She even took the initiative to change into slippers. Her movements a bit stiff. Yes, Sharon, come in and sit.

I stepped aside to let her in and close the door. She followed me timidly into the living room, but didn’t take her usual spot in the most comfortable armchair. Instead, she perched stiffly on the edge of a single sofa, her back ramrod straight, her hands still clutching her phone on her lap. I didn’t speak first.