he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance - Chapter 93: Chapter 93
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In all the years I was married to Miles, his family never treated me like I was one of them.
Take today, for example.
They all showed up for the holidays without even telling me.
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Let me guess, Miles told you this house was his? He sure loves to make himself look good.”
“You!” Miles’s mom’s face turned scarlet with rage.
“This house is his! He’s even got other properties!”
She looked like she was about to explode.
Calmly, I pulled out my phone.
“You’ve got thirty minutes to get out of here."
"If you’re still here after that, I’m calling the police.”
My words landed like a bomb in the room.
Everyone froze, glancing at each other.
Miles’s parents, refusing to lose face, plopped themselves down on the couch like they owned the place.
“We’re not going anywhere,” his mom said, crossing her arms.
“We’ll wait right here for my son to come home. Let’s see you try to throw us out.”
She turned to the rest of the family.
“Help yourselves, everyone! Eat, drink, whatever you want—it’s all on Miles."
"Everything here belongs to him!”
These freeloaders didn’t need to be told twice. They dug in like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I smirked.
“You’re going to be waiting a long time. Your son isn’t coming home. He’s dead.”
Miles’s dad shot to his feet, his face contorted in fury.
“How dare you say something like that? I just talked to him three hours ago!”
I knew they were coming today.
That’s why I didn’t waste any time sending Miles to the crematorium.
I glanced at my watch.
“You’ve got about twenty minutes left. When the cops show up to drag you out, it won’t be a good look.”
They finally started to panic, fumbling for their phones to call Miles.
Of course, I’d already turned his phone off. There was no way they’d get through.
Then—crash.
The sound of shattering porcelain cut through the air, followed by the wail of a young boy.
His mother rushed over.
“Oh, my baby! Are you hurt?”
I looked over and said loudly, “That vase was from an auction. Two million dollars."
"If it’s broken, you’ll need to pay me back—full price.”
Miles’s mom scoffed.
“Two million? What kind of garbage are you buying? You’re just wasting my son’s hard-earned money, you spoiled brat.”
She went over to comfort the boy while his mother chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Honestly, what kind of daughter-in-law treats her family like this?"
"We’re your family too, you know. Or do you just not care about anyone but yourself?”
She pointed to the broken vase.
“And this thing? It looks like something you could get at a dollar store."
"Two million, my ass! She’s just trying to rip us off, treating us like idiots!”
Her words struck a nerve with Miles’s mom. Straightening up, she barked orders at the family.
“Two million, huh? Fine! Let’s break it all! I don’t care if it’s two million or twenty million."
"If she wants to ruin our holiday, we’ll ruin hers!”
“Smash everything!” she shouted.
“Leave nothing standing! Miles doesn’t care about money, and neither do I! Let’s make this a holiday she won’t forget.”
The relatives didn’t need any more encouragement.
They rolled up their sleeves and went to town on my living room.
The kids joined in, ripping paintings off the walls and shredding them to pieces.
I screamed at them to stop, my voice hoarse with frustration.
But my panic only seemed to fuel their destruction.
The more upset I got, the harder they laughed—and the harder they smashed.
Before long, the doorbell rang.
The police had arrived.
Take today, for example.
They all showed up for the holidays without even telling me.
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Let me guess, Miles told you this house was his? He sure loves to make himself look good.”
“You!” Miles’s mom’s face turned scarlet with rage.
“This house is his! He’s even got other properties!”
She looked like she was about to explode.
Calmly, I pulled out my phone.
“You’ve got thirty minutes to get out of here."
"If you’re still here after that, I’m calling the police.”
My words landed like a bomb in the room.
Everyone froze, glancing at each other.
Miles’s parents, refusing to lose face, plopped themselves down on the couch like they owned the place.
“We’re not going anywhere,” his mom said, crossing her arms.
“We’ll wait right here for my son to come home. Let’s see you try to throw us out.”
She turned to the rest of the family.
“Help yourselves, everyone! Eat, drink, whatever you want—it’s all on Miles."
"Everything here belongs to him!”
These freeloaders didn’t need to be told twice. They dug in like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I smirked.
“You’re going to be waiting a long time. Your son isn’t coming home. He’s dead.”
Miles’s dad shot to his feet, his face contorted in fury.
“How dare you say something like that? I just talked to him three hours ago!”
I knew they were coming today.
That’s why I didn’t waste any time sending Miles to the crematorium.
I glanced at my watch.
“You’ve got about twenty minutes left. When the cops show up to drag you out, it won’t be a good look.”
They finally started to panic, fumbling for their phones to call Miles.
Of course, I’d already turned his phone off. There was no way they’d get through.
Then—crash.
The sound of shattering porcelain cut through the air, followed by the wail of a young boy.
His mother rushed over.
“Oh, my baby! Are you hurt?”
I looked over and said loudly, “That vase was from an auction. Two million dollars."
"If it’s broken, you’ll need to pay me back—full price.”
Miles’s mom scoffed.
“Two million? What kind of garbage are you buying? You’re just wasting my son’s hard-earned money, you spoiled brat.”
She went over to comfort the boy while his mother chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Honestly, what kind of daughter-in-law treats her family like this?"
"We’re your family too, you know. Or do you just not care about anyone but yourself?”
She pointed to the broken vase.
“And this thing? It looks like something you could get at a dollar store."
"Two million, my ass! She’s just trying to rip us off, treating us like idiots!”
Her words struck a nerve with Miles’s mom. Straightening up, she barked orders at the family.
“Two million, huh? Fine! Let’s break it all! I don’t care if it’s two million or twenty million."
"If she wants to ruin our holiday, we’ll ruin hers!”
“Smash everything!” she shouted.
“Leave nothing standing! Miles doesn’t care about money, and neither do I! Let’s make this a holiday she won’t forget.”
The relatives didn’t need any more encouragement.
They rolled up their sleeves and went to town on my living room.
The kids joined in, ripping paintings off the walls and shredding them to pieces.
I screamed at them to stop, my voice hoarse with frustration.
But my panic only seemed to fuel their destruction.
The more upset I got, the harder they laughed—and the harder they smashed.
Before long, the doorbell rang.
The police had arrived.
End of he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance Chapter 93. Continue reading Chapter 94 or return to he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance book page.