Home Management: Plain And Simple

This was the hundredth time Mom caught Dad throwing thousands of dollars at social media influencers. She didn't scream or make a scene for the entire construction crew to laugh at anymore, nor did she pause her work. Dad thought she had finally learned her place and grown sensible. The very next month, he invited every single worker on the job site to attend his wedding. However, he kept Mom and me out of it. When the workers returned, they were all gossiping about how Mom, the worn-out house-cat, had been replaced by a beauty. The bride was a meticulously dolled-up young woman. I had seen her on his phone many times. Every time, she would be wearing next to nothing, dancing on camera while calling my dad her "Big Spender", right before Dad transferred amounts of money to her with many zeros at the end. Mom looked calmly at them. Unfastening her apron, she thrust the spatula into the woman's hands. "The workers' massive daily meals will be on you from now on." Dad's expression hardened instantly, and he slapped Mom's hand away. "Are you out of your mind?! There are over a hundred people on this site. How could you possibly make Abigail cook for them? It would wear her out! She married me to live in luxury!" "And living in a shack on a construction site isn't too much for our daughter?" The young woman stepped forward to play the peacemaker. "Oh, I heard you and my husband started working on construction sites together ten years ago. The kid must be totally used to it by now. "You can just stay on as the housekeeper. I won't kick you guys out." As if granting charity, Dad commanded Mom, "Hurry up and thank Abigail for her generosity. She's the new matriarch around here. We're all one family now." Mom didn't say another word, simply closing the drafty corrugated tin door. "Bailey, I saved up a bit of money. How about I take you somewhere else to go to school?"

Due to the change in my work location, I'd already informed Paul Miller, my part-time helper, to look for a job elsewhere three months ago. Back then, Paul had agreed to do so immediately. But when I'm about to move out of my old home, he made an absurd request to me. "I've spent so many years working for you to the bone. According to this industry's rules, you have to take care of me for the rest of my life. But if you refuse to do that, you can pay me a pension of ten thousand dollars every month." I'm stunned, to say the least. Did I hire a part-time helper, or did I find myself a financial burden instead? I turn Paul down immediately, so he decides to take a step back. "If you don't want to pay me, then give me this house of yours. I can't just leave without anything, right? It'll just show how petty of an employer you are. If not, I'll humiliate you in the group chat!" Fury floods my senses immediately. Fine. Let's see who will get humiliated here!

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

As soon as I graduated from university, I suggested to my three roommates that we should rent a place together. The place I found was near our workplace, and it was cheap as well. It was much better than the house they used to rent in the suburbs. During the first three months of renting the place together, everything seemed fine. One day, I got off work early and heard them talking in the living room. "I did some research online. The rent of the houses in this area is at least 2 grand a month. But ours is only 800 dollars a month. How about we rent the master bedroom out for 800 dollars? That way, we won't have to pay any rent." "Alright, I'm in! Why does Jessica always get to sleep in the master bedroom? Even if she covered all the bills of this house, how much would that cost anyway?" "I've had it with her arrogant attitude. Thinking of her being homeless makes me want to laugh!" I laughed inwardly. 'You want to see me homeless? But I'm the landlord!'

When her world turned upsidedown, Bella had no choice than to accept the offer to work as a house maid for The Benson's family but literally just for Peter, Mr and Mrs Benson's only son. They needed someone to take good care of their son (NOT BABYSIT) whenever they are away for business trips as usual. As time goes on, Bella became more than a maid to Peter.

We had been married for three years, and together, our income was decent at twenty-six grand a month. Yet, we barely had two hundred bucks in savings. My husband was a nice guy, lending practically his entire wages to our next-door widow and her daughter. He covered their expenses when the daughter needed money for school, when the widow needed a little time at the spa, and when they wanted to give their home a new facelift. The moment my father fell ill and needed surgery, I went next door to ask for the money back. However, my neighbors slammed the door in my face. “Your husband chose to give us the money. Why should we pay you back?” Enraged, I sought help from my husband, only to be criticized. “I felt bad for them. Why did you demand payment when they are already struggling? What’s wrong with you?” I smirked. That night, I decided to do a good deed by spending my entire paycheck to help a broke college hunk. The next day, our power was cut off for unpaid bills, and my husband lost an unfinished document he hadn’t saved. Putting his finger up my nose, he gave me a piece of his mind. “Where’s your money? Why didn’t you pay the bills?” I replied with the most innocent look on my face, “I helped a struggling college student. His life was falling apart because he had to deal with a sick mom and a deadbeat dad. His needs should come before the utility bills.”