My MIL Asked My Son to Scrape the Ice off Her Car for $20, Then Refused to Pay – Karma Hit Her Threefold

If you’re offended, that’s your weakness.”

The call ended.

I sat on the couch, shaking, Oliver asleep upstairs.

Something shifted in me then. Not rage. Certainty.

A week later, the weather turned worse.

Freezing rain. Ice layered thick over everything. I was making dinner when Nate’s phone rang.

He answered, frowned.

Pause.

“What happened?”

Another pause.

“She fell,” he said slowly. “On the driveway.”

I closed my eyes.

“She broke her wrist. Slipped on the ice.”

The same ice.

The ice Oliver had scraped for two weeks straight.

“She needs help,” Nate added. “Staff’s gone. Everyone’s booked.”

We drove out the next day.

The driveway was a mess. Untouched. Slick.

Dangerous. Eleanor sat inside with her arm in a cast, scowling at invoices spread across the table. Emergency transport.

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