My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing / Chapter 2: Bleach in the Family
My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing

My Husband’s Hero Act Was My Undoing

Author: Rachael Morris

Chapter 2: Bleach in the Family

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While the lawsuit dragged on, my in-laws decided they’d just stay at my place for a while—crashing in my daughter’s room.

I’d already planned to kick them out soon, but on their very first night, I caught something that made my blood boil.

My mother-in-law dropped bleach tablets into my daughter’s water dispenser—said she needed to soak socks.

"Why does a little girl need her own water dispenser anyway? Spoiled, that’s what she is."

My father-in-law chimed in, waving me off: "Your mother-in-law’s just a clean freak. She didn’t want to dirty up your washing machine after being out all day, so she used the dispenser. What’s with your attitude?"

My daughter’s stomach is sensitive—she can only drink certain brands of bottled water, so I got her a separate dispenser.

Spoiled? She’s my kid—I’ll spoil her however I damn well please!

I bit back my fury and sent my daughter to stay with my best friend for a few days. It hurt, but I wasn’t risking her health.

The next day, I personally cooked a feast for my in-laws—with a generous splash of bleach for flavor.

I played the dutiful daughter-in-law, cleaned up with a smile… and when they started frothing at the mouth, I calmly called 911, sent them off to the ER for a stomach pump.

When the doctor asked what happened, I slapped my forehead like I just remembered: "Oh no, Mom, did you mix up the hoses on the water dispenser? Maybe the intake and outflow got swapped? Could the cooking water have gotten contaminated?"

My father-in-law, thinking it over, gagged again and shot a look at my mother-in-law that could kill.

They wanted to know why I was fine. Simple—I didn’t eat a bite. I just served them. Model daughter-in-law, right?

After they got out of the hospital, my in-laws sat me down, all serious, to talk about the house.

I’d met David Sutton on a family-arranged blind date. His parents worked for my dad—my folks thought they were honest, reliable people.

Not long after, my parents died in an accident. I listened to their advice as their dying wish and married David. Only after dying myself did I see what the Suttons were really like.

After David died, their first move was to go after the house—my parents’ legacy. The Suttons pulled every trick they could think of to get their hands on it.

In my last life, I actually believed David Sutton was a hero. The law didn’t say I had to support them, but I couldn’t let a hero’s parents starve. So I did it anyway.

So, of course, I let them move in and treat my parents’ house like it was theirs.

But this time…

"Look at what happened today—way too dangerous! You’re a woman raising a kid alone, living in this big house with all this fancy tech. You can’t handle it. Let us help with the child."

I ignored my mother-in-law’s guilt trip and answered coolly, "Actually, Mom, I’m planning to rent this place out and move somewhere smaller with my daughter."

My father-in-law’s voice shot up: "Rent it out?"

"Yeah, it’s my house. I can do what I want with it."

"David’s gone. Raising a kid and taking care of us is expensive. Renting it out just makes sense. So, when are you two moving out again?"

They shot each other a look.

After a moment, my mother-in-law muttered and retreated to her room: "It’s not that simple. This is my son’s house too. You can’t just rent it out."

Too bad for her—I wasn’t about to let her win. Not this time. Not ever.

Three days later, I moved my valuables out bit by bit and found a group of fresh college grads from the nearby campus—broke but full of energy. I rented the house to them cheap.

Parties welcome, go wild, day or night, rotate roommates however you want. Only rule: don’t bother the neighbors.

The old couple squatting in the children’s room didn’t count as neighbors.

"Maggie, what’s your deal? Why fill the house with college kids? Listen, this is my son’s marital home. You can’t just do whatever you want!"

The noise drove them nuts. They packed up and moved out in the middle of the night.

I sipped coffee in a five-star hotel cafe, listening to my mother-in-law’s angry phone call, and grinned. "Mom, you’re confused. I owned this house before the marriage. David—dead or alive—has nothing to do with the Sutton family."

"How’s that lawsuit with Jessica Harper? Got the money yet? That’s our money to split, right?"

She hung up, cursing me out loud enough for the whole lobby to hear.

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