THE DISGUSTING SON-IN-LAW WON'T TOLERATE INSULT ANYMORE

Sick Mother

“Running to Elena, you trash?”

Karvel froze mid-step, his mother-in-law’s voice slicing through the hallway like a rusted blade.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her silk nightgown, a gold bracelet jangling as she flicked a manicured nail at his threadbare sleeve.

“Newsflash: She’s at the Plaza with Vincent—you know, the real man who doesn’t reek of dish soap and desperation, enjoying their night.”  She snickered.

Vincent Langford?

Karvel’s throat went dry.

The entitled heir of the Langford family. The man who had been chasing his wife for months.

 Karvel had caught him flirting with her more than once, right in front of him, as if Karvel didn’t even exist.

But she had always turned Vincent down before...

Karvel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not true. Elena would never—”

“Would never what?” She pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. “Would never dump trash like you? Never laugh over champagne instead of your sad little stories about your dying mother? Don’t be so delusional.”

Her words coiled around his throat. “You’re lying!” he grated, but his voice wavered.

“Oh, please.” She patted his cheek, her ring digging into his skin. “ Just face it. Vincent’s much better. Better than your roach-infested childhood home, better than your mother’s hospital bills, better than you.” 

She leaned in, breath hot with malice. “And they’re busy now, by the way. Very busy. And once they’re done, Elena will come back and divorce you.”

Karvel stumbled back, grabbing for the staircase rail. His hand shook as he pulled out his phone, Elena’s number already dialed.

“Waste of time,” his mother-in-law sang, sauntering away. “She’s got better things to do than save your sorry hide.”

The line clicked.

Then—“Well, well. The little mutt finally learned to dial a phone.”

Vincent’s voice.

Karvel’s blood turned to ice. “Where is Elena?”

A low, lazy laugh rumbled through the speaker. “Busy. In the shower. You know how it is—some of us actually get to relax with our partners, not beg them for crumbs.”

“Put her on the phone.” Karvel’s knuckles whitened around the device.

“Can’t. She’s… occupied.” Vincent’s tone dipped, cruel and deliberate. “Man, her skin is even softer than silk. But hey, if you listen real close, maybe you can hear her—”

“Shut up!”

“Aw, touchy.” The line crackled, and Karvel swore he heard the faint rush of water. “Face it, fleabag. She’s done. Three years of playing house with a loser? Even Elena’s got limits. Now run along—your mother’s probably cold by now. Enjoy the funeral, if you could afford one.”

The line went dead.

Karvel stared at the screen, the world tilting.

His mother-in-law’s laughter echoed from the living room, but it sounded miles away.

He dialed Elena’s number again. And again. And again.

No answer.

Then his phone buzzed. A notification from the hospital.

Final Notice: Outstanding payment due. Discharge ordered.

His chest tightened, and he could barely breathe.

There was no time for heartbreak now. He had to save his mother.​

Karvel took off running towards the hospital, his mind a blur of panic. The city streets seemed to close in around him as he sprinted through the crowded sidewalks.

Sweat soaked through his shirt, sticking it to his back as he weaved through crowds, lungs burning. When he skidded to a halt at the hospital desk, he could barely speak.

“Please,” he begged the receptionist. “I’m here about Room 403. Mrs. Amelia Donovan. I just need a few more days. I’ll get the money—”

The woman didn’t even look up. “If you can’t pay, she’s out. This isn’t a charity kennel.”

“I—She’s my mother,” Karvel pleaded, dropping to his knees. “She raised me… I’ll work it off—anything!”

A nearby nurse scoffed. “Better save that dog-like loyalty. She’s already on the discharge list.”

Karvel clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. No. No, she can’t be forced out! But before he could do anything, chaos erupted in the hospital corridor.​

Screams echoed down the corridor.

“Someone jumped! From the fourth floor!”

A chill ran down Karvel’s spine, and a sense of foreboding washed over him. No, don’t be…

He scrambled to his feet and started running, shoving past doctors, nurses, and visitors. His legs felt like lead, and his mind was blank with terror.​

And then—he saw her, his mother, lying motionless on the cold marble tiles. Crumpled like a broken marionette on the cold marble tiles.

Her hospital gown fluttered weakly from the impact. Blood pooled beneath her, seeping into the cracks of the floor like spilled ink.

“No!” Karvel dropped to his knees beside her, his voice a raw scream of pain. “Mom! Mom, please—!”​