Rich Bite More: Mom's Household Ration Law

Stephanie Baxter, my older sister, looked up with a smirk.

Gregory Baxter, my younger brother, was holding back laughter, his shoulders shaking.

Everett Baxter, my father, put down his fork and stared at me coldly.

Some of the relatives at the table looked down, pretending not to notice, while others watched on with amusement.

I stared blankly at the three dollars on the table, then looked at the helping of pasta in my mother, Natasha Murray's hands.

The room suddenly fell silent, with only the tick-tock of the wall clock echoing in the room.

"Mom, what did you say?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Mom placed my plate in front of her and elegantly wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"I said, if you want a second helping of pasta, you need to pay three dollars. If you don't pay, I'll pour this helping away. This family has implemented a new rule starting this year—the income-based rationing system."

She gestured at the dishes on the table. "Look at all this food. Just this sea bass alone cost 180 dollars, the scallops 200 dollars, and the lobster 300 dollars. You only earn 3,000 dollars a month.

"After rent, utilities, and transportation, how much could you possibly have left? So, why should you be allowed to eat as much as you want?"

My fingers tightened around the fork, my knuckles turning white.

"But I give you 2,000 dollars a month for living expenses, Mom."

"2,000 dollars?" Mom let out a short laugh. "Do you think that's a lot? Stephanie spends more than that on a single social outing."

Stephanie put down her phone and tapped her long, manicured nails twice on the table.

"Brittany, it's not that I want to criticize you, but look at me. Even though I don't contribute to living expenses at home, I maintain the family's image and expand our connections out there.

"Just last month, I attended Mr. Woodruff's banquet and secured two major deals for the family. How can your 2,000 dollars possibly compare to that? This is what's called soft power, understand?"

With that, she elegantly cut a piece of steak and brought it to her mouth.

Gregory laughed even harder. He picked up the leftover fish head from his plate, which still had scales and bones, and tossed it into my empty plate.

"Brittany, chill. Look, I even added some food for you. Fish heads are nutritious, full of DHA to boost your brainpower. Clearly, you need some of that."

He then doubled over with laughter.

I took a deep breath, desperately holding back the tears welling in my eyes. "But I also do all the housework—laundry, cooking, cleaning—from morning till night."

"Housework?" Dad finally spoke.

He slammed his fork heavily onto the table, and the entire dining room fell silent.

"You still have the nerve to bring that up?" he said icily with eyes filled with disappointment. "Do you think doing housework makes you special? Hiring a maid costs only 3,000 dollars a month.

"You contribute 2,000 dollars and expect to live here for free or eat as much as you want? Stephanie spends several thousand dollars on just one meal when she's out networking.

"And Gregory spends tens of thousands of dollars a month on game top-ups. They did it all for the sake of building connections and investing in the future. Every cent they spend is an investment that will generate value. Can you say the same?"

He pointed at me, his eyes full of disdain. "What else can you do besides housework? Do you have Stephanie's connections or Gregory's wit? No! You have nothing! You're as ordinary as they come, and your contribution to this family is only worth this much!"

He picked up the three dollars on the table and waved it in front of my face.

Mom took over, her voice even sharper. "Exactly! Just look at your miserable face. What a jinx! It's Christmas Eve, yet you're making a fuss over three dollars. How do you expect us to get through this?

"This family doesn't support freeloaders. You want more food? Fine, pay up! If you don't, you can get the hell out."

I looked at them, at this picture-perfect family.

Dad, Mom, Stephanie, and Gregory were all looking at me as if I were an ungrateful outsider.

My hands trembled, my nails digging deep into my palms. My blood ran cold until it finally froze into ice.

Slowly, I stood up and walked toward the door.

"Stop right there!" Mom's shrill voice rang out. "You haven't paid the three dollars yet! Are you trying to dine and dash? You think this will blow over if you just leave? Well, let me tell you. Once you walk out that door, don't even think about coming back!"

I stopped and turned to look at them. Then, I went back to my room and pulled out a thick black ledger from the deepest part of the drawer.

When I placed it in the center of the dining table, everyone froze.

Mom's fork hovered in mid-air.

Dad furrowed his brow.

Stephanie and Gregory exchanged glances, a flicker of unease in their eyes.

I flipped to the first page and asked, "Are you sure you want to go over the numbers with me?"