My brother’s wife, Audrey Bradley, had turned her pregnancy into a full-time career as a lifestyle influencer, streaming her pregnancy journey. Meanwhile, she treated me like her personal servant, demanding I cook, clean, and run endless errands for her. She even had the audacity to suggest I quit my job to become her full-time caretaker. When I finally stood up for myself, my parents took her side, pointing out that my measly three-thousand-dollar teaching salary was nothing compared to the 10 thousand dollars she pulled in monthly from streaming. My brother Joshua Bradley’s response was even worse. He slapped me, claiming I should be grateful for the “privilege” of caring for his unborn son. After I moved out, they destroyed what remained of my life by spreading vicious rumors at the school where I taught, ultimately getting me fired. Then Audrey had a miscarriage and tearfully accused me on her livestream of deliberately poisoning her food. One of her obsessed fans tracked me down and stabbed me to death. Audrey leveraged the tragedy to boost her brand, turning my death into a marketing opportunity. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the beginning, on the day Audrey first started streaming and demanded I cook for her. ***** On her livestream, Audrey beamed at the camera in her maternity wear. “Everyone, my husband’s sister Eloise will be home at noon today. I’m going to have her make us lunch!” The viewer count topped 10 thousand as comments flooded the screen, all praising Audrey’s “queen-like” pregnancy lifestyle. [Audrey’s so lucky! Pregnant women should just relax and let others handle everything.] [Eloise needs to step up. She’s been so lazy. What kind of family member doesn’t take care of a pregnant woman?] [Watching Audrey has shown me pregnancy can be pure luxury. We pregnant women deserve to be queens. Everyone else is just the help!] Reading these one-sided comments, I gripped my phone tightly as a chill ran down my spine. Audrey and Joshua had rushed into marriage when she was one month pregnant. My parents had consulted a quack who declared it would be a boy. The entire family had immediately started treating Audrey like royalty. She’d specifically targeted me because I was a kindergarten teacher, claiming this made me perfect for serving her. Though confused by her logic, I’d tried my best to accommodate her endless demands. At first, she claimed she couldn’t pour her own water for fear of burns and asked me to serve her water. She said she needed the fruit cut into small pieces before she could eat it. Worried about getting hurt by the knife, she asked me to cut it and bring it to her. If fruit wasn’t arranged perfectly on the plate, she’d complain it affected her appetite and hormones. Her daily streams showcased this healthy, comfortable pregnancy lifestyle while hawking endless pregnancy-related products. She cast herself as the queen and me as her servant. I’d tolerated it all because she was pregnant. But her demands grew increasingly outrageous. She insisted I prepare special pregnancy-friendly meals for her streams, only to order barbecue and spicy food the moment the camera stopped rolling. When her face broke out from her actual diet, she demanded I buy her thousands of dollars worth of skincare products. She also mentioned that I wasn’t taking good care of her and asked me to quit my job to become her full-time caretaker at home. When I finally protested, my parents erupted. “You’re just a kindergarten teacher making three thousand a month. Audrey makes over 10 thousand dollars from streaming. You should be honored to serve her, even if it means quitting your job.” Joshua’s slap still stung as he shouted, “My wife is carrying my child. You should be grateful to serve her!” I moved out in anger, thinking distance would solve the problem. Unexpectedly, they showed up at my school with banners, spreading such vicious rumors that the administration had no choice but to fire me. Then came Audrey’s miscarriage during her livestream. Through theatrical tears, she accused me of poisoning her meals and sabotaging her pregnancy out of jealousy, claiming my own “multiple abortions” had left me barren and bitter. Her followers exploded with rage, hunting down every detail of my life until one particularly unhinged fan found my address and murdered me. Audrey leveraged the tragedy perfectly, turning my death into a marketing goldmine. Only after dying did I learn the truth. Her own unhealthy diet had threatened miscarriage, so she’d decided to weaponize the situation, using me as a scapegoat to boost her following. Now, watching her current stream, I heard her chirp, “Everyone, I’ve planned today’s healthy pregnancy menu. Watch my husband’s sister prepare it! And don’t forget, all these nutritious ingredients are available in my shop!” I heard her key in the lock just as she’d done before. I closed the streaming app with a smirk. I wouldn’t be playing the role of her “servant” in this lifetime.
“Eloise, why are you still in bed? Come make my pregnancy-safe lunch!” Audrey burst in, phone held high to capture every moment. When I didn’t respond, she launched into her practiced routine. “I’m pregnant! What if the baby gets hungry because you made me wait? What kind of family doesn’t care about a pregnant woman?” I gave her my sweetest fake smile. “Audrey, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t know how to cook.” Her practiced pout turned to a frown. “Don’t lie to me. I saw you in the kitchen yesterday. “You’re just being difficult. I’m carrying your nephew. Can you live with yourself if something happens to him?” I maintained my innocent expression. “Oh, that? I was just heating up a frozen pizza. “Anyone can do that, but proper pregnancy meals? That’s way beyond my skills. Would you like me to make you a pizza instead?” She couldn’t say yes, not when her entire meals centered on clean, healthy eating during pregnancy. Pizza was the antithesis of her carefully crafted image. Her expression cycled through several emotions before settling on contempt. “Then learn to cook! Do you expect me to eat your greasy, undercooked food? “You make barely any money, live here rent-free, and you won’t even cook a simple meal? Are you really that useless?” My eyes flashed with genuine anger. “I may not make much, but I support myself. “And how much of my salary goes to buying you luxury fruits and expensive ingredients? “Remember when you demanded that soup, then threw it on me because it was ‘too bland’? The hospital bill for those burns cost me hundreds!” I covered my face, shedding tears. “Audrey, I’m your husband’s sister. Why do you treat me like a servant?” Her face darkened. Without missing a beat, she sank to the floor, clutching her stomach. “Oh, the pain! My baby! I’m going to lose my baby!” My mother burst from the next room. “What’s wrong? Is my grandson okay?” Audrey bowed her head, sobbing perfectly. “I was too demanding of Eloise. She got upset and yelled at me. It’s all my fault.” My mother whirled on me, hand raised. “Eloise! She’s pregnant. Can’t you be more considerate? A little housework won’t kill you!” I backed away quickly. “Mom, I’m not her servant. “If you’re so concerned about her pregnancy meals, why don’t you cook them? Don’t you care about your grandson?” That left her speechless. She didn’t want to cook either, so she just let Audrey boss me around. Just then, my father returned. “Why isn’t lunch ready? Are you waiting for me to cook? What if my grandson gets hungry?” he demanded. I retreated to my room, leaving my mother to grudgingly handle lunch after my father’s scolding. Checking Audrey’s stream, I watched the comments fly by. [Eloise is horrible! She won’t even cook? What kind of family is this?] [So cruel! Doesn’t she know pregnant women come first? There’s a baby involved!] [Hold on. Eloise said she can’t cook. You can’t force someone. And why isn’t Audrey’s husband’s mother helping?] [Didn’t Eloise spend all her money on Audrey? And got burned because of her? What more do you want?] The debate raged, but Audrey’s loyal followers dominated the conversation. They branded me heartless, uncaring, and ignorant of pregnant women’s needs. Some wished me bad marriages, miscarriages, and a lifetime of neglect. I took screenshots with a blank expression. Even when I’d done everything Audrey asked, she’d never shown me an ounce of kindness in return.
That evening, just as I received notification of Audrey starting another stream, she burst into my room. “Eloise, since you’re a kindergarten teacher, you must know about prenatal education. You need to help make my baby smarter!” she demanded, as if being a kindergarten teacher somehow made me an expert in everything child-related. I met her request with a knowing smirk. In my previous life, she’d made the same demand. I’d diligently researched prenatal education and played classical music for her, but that hadn’t been enough. She’d insisted I read aloud to her unborn child. She would lie there pretending to sleep, but the moment I stopped reading, she’d snap awake and accuse me of not taking her son’s education seriously. I’d read until my voice gave out, leaving me unable to speak the next day. Even then, she’d shown no guilt, just complaining that my inability to speak was disrupting the baby’s education. “Eloise, did you hear me? Do we need to ask you to handle even this simple task?” I looked up to find Joshua standing behind her. His presence only amplified Audrey’s confidence; she tilted her chin up, radiating superiority. I secretly clenched my fists and took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Joshua, Audrey, prenatal education isn’t something to approach casually. If you want the best for your son, we need to prepare properly,” I replied. Joshua stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What kind of preparation are we talking about? And when should we start?” I ticked items off on my fingers. “We’ll need reference materials, specially designed prenatal music, and appropriate books. “But since Audrey will be listening too, she should choose what she likes.” Audrey’s eyes lit up. “Of course! The mother’s mood is crucial. I’ll go to the bookstore tomorrow to pick everything out!” Noticing her excitement, I knew she was planning to make me read storybooks endlessly. I lowered my head to hide my expression. Audrey snorted with pride, feeling that she had regained the dignity she had lost during the day. “You’ll use whatever materials I choose, understand? If my son’s IQ doesn’t hit 180, I’m holding you responsible!” she said. I nodded vigorously, and she strutted away, satisfied. Checking her livestream, I found the mocking comments. [See? She knows her place now. The baby is everything!] [Audrey’s amazing. Such a strong mother fighting for her child’s future!] [Better check that kindergarten certificate though. Is Eloise even qualified?] [Audrey’s so kind to give her another chance. Most people would’ve kicked out such an unhelpful family member.] Audrey beamed at her camera. “As a mother, everything I do is for my child. Every mother understands that. “I’ll be shopping for prenatal education materials tomorrow. So join my stream to see what I recommend. Everything will be available in my shop!” Her followers showered her with virtual gifts and praise until she finally ended the stream. The next day, while she went shopping, calculating her potential profits, I seized the opportunity to install hidden cameras throughout the living room. Audrey returned after 1 p.m., immediately heading for the kitchen. “Where’s all the food? I want smoked salmon!” “Audrey, you’re pregnant, and you can’t have raw fish or spicy food. I cleared everything unsafe from the fridge today.” “Who gave you that right?” she snapped. “I’ll eat what I want! You can’t control me!” I affected a hurt expression. “But you said in your stream you should eat healthy. I was just following your advice.” She slammed her hand on the table. “That’s just for show! You think I’m actually eating that bland garbage? Go order me salmon.” I complied, ordering smoked salmon and beers. Audrey was happily sitting in the living room, enjoying her meal. When I walked back into the room, I finally allowed myself to smile. I checked my monitoring feed, which was streaming live to an account I’d created: [WARNING: Pregnant Women Doing Everything Wrong!]
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