Can I Share NY Times Kindle Subscription With Family?

My mom calls me on Friday. "Don't forget about tomorrow's family dinner. Cody loves shrimps, so you should buy more of those at the seafood market in the southern district. "Lexi loves lamb chops. Go take a look in the eastern district for them. Also, don't forget to buy the imported strawberries. Noah loves them a lot." I say yes to each and every request Mom makes. But as soon as I end the call, I receive a text on the family group chat. "I've already given Eileen a list of our favorite foods. It's tough for you to earn money these days, so you shouldn't buy anything." One second later, that message is deleted. Still, I'm flabbergasted by what I just read. I've been married for two years. Every Saturday throughout those years, I'm the one paying and organizing the family dinner of the week. I thought there's no need to be so petty when it comes to family. But it seems that they've already viewed me as the outsider a long time ago. In that case, I won't be attending the family dinner anymore.

Throughout my five years of marriage with Natalia Lane, never once have I stepped through the front door of my in-laws' residence. Natalia tells me that her parents prefer quiet environments and that they prefer to be distanced from us. I believe her excuses. On the first of every month, the bank transfers three thousand dollars on time to Natalia's parents. The transaction is always labeled as "living expenses for Mom and Dad". This is my only way of caring for my in-laws. During the holidays this year, I show up outside my in-laws' residence with some holiday gifts in my arms, ready to give them a surprise. But as soon as I reach the doorway, I hear my father-in-law, Arthur Lane's gentle voice coming from within. "Come, my dear son-in-law! Let's have a nice drink together!" I remain rooted to the spot in the corridor. Suddenly, the weight of the gifts in my arms feels extremely heavy. Natalia is the only child in her family. Well then, who's the "son-in-law" that's drinking with Arthur right now?

When the bank calls me to collect the first round of mortgages from me, do I realize that my wife, Denise Sheridan, also the same woman who eats leftovers and saves every single penny with me in our daily lives, has bought my brother-in-law, Dmitri Sheridan, two prime mansions located near a school. While Dmitri is placed as the mansion deed holder, I'm the one who's supposed to clear off the mortgages. I hurl the purchasing contract to the floor in fury. "You said Nancy's leukemia requires a shit ton of money, so I've been saving up my whole life. I even went as far as to work ten jobs per day! "My dad had to sell his kidney in exchange for a term of Nancy's chemotherapy bills because you told me the money wasn't enough at all. But thanks to the shady hospital, he died on the surgical table! "And yet, now you've used the money that Dad and I had put our blood, sweat, and tears into earning to buy mansions for Dmitri! Do you even have a conscience?" "What happened to your dad was destined to be! Sure, we could always make more money if we have more treatment bills to cover, but Dmitri's case is different! He urgently needs money for his marriage!" Denise refutes in a righteous way. I'm about to lash out at her when my daughter, Nancy Sheridan, rushes out. "Dad, Uncle Dmitri is the hope of our family! I don't mind giving him money to spend!" At that moment, I finally realize that not only am I this household's ATM, but my own daughter is also an ingrate through and through.

I head over to my boyfriend, Skylar Reynold's house during the holidays to pay his family a visit. Skylar's mother, Helen Benett, smiles and says to me in front of everyone, "According to our rules, a future daughter-in-law must give cash gifts to all the children and elderly people in the family in her first year here. You must give every person at least 200 dollars to show how generous you are." I'm stunned, to say the least. Skylar nudges me before murmuring, "It's just a few thousand dollars, isn't it? Doesn't the holiday bonus that you've received before the holidays cover everything?" I look at the living room, where 15 children and 8 elderly people are present. That makes it 4,600 dollars—the same figure that I've received after the taxes are deducted from the bonus. I let out a soft chuckle at that moment. Then, I turn to look at Helen. "According to your rules, Mrs. Reynold, I shall be the one giving away the cash gifts. But according to my family's rules, the groom's family has to give the bride's family cash gifts as well. The cash gifts must be doubled so that our marriage will be graced by luck. "It'll be 9,200 dollars altogether. Would you like to pay me in cash, or are you going to transfer it into my account?"

Someone suddenly tags me in a parents' group chat. "Hey Madison, I notice that the lunch boxes you've prepared for your daughter have a nice variety and rich in nutrients. Why don't you prepare the same thing for my son starting from tomorrow onward? "I'm not going to leech off you. In fact, I'll pay you ten dollars per day. When it stacks up, you'll earn quite a lot per month." As I stare at the messages on the screen, I find the situation rather ridiculous. My daughter, Sophie Reed, is extremely picky, not to mention she has food allergies. All of the ingredients of her meals are flown in from their places of origin. That means one meal's net price is more than 500 dollars. Yet now, someone intends to use ten dollars just for me to replicate the same meal for them? I reply right away in the group chat, "No way." Unexpectedly, the next day, Sophie is in tears when she returns from the kindergarten. She tells me that her lunch box has gotten snatched by a fellow classmate. On top of that, the teacher scolds her for being selfish as well. Fine. Since those shameless people intend to take advantage of me, don't blame me for being ruthless at all.

My mom is 71 years old. Thanks to her arthritis acting up, she's in so much pain that she can't descend the stairs at all. She tentatively calls me and asks if she can rent an apartment that comes with an elevator of its own. But my wife, Lucy Glaser, brings out the household ledger and points at the red numbers on the pages. "Last month, you bought yourself a tie, which is 300 dollars beyond our monthly budget. Yet now you're planning on adding another impulsive expense?" Only then do I realize that I don't even have the freedom to buy myself a tie despite earning an annual salary of tens of millions of dollars. My mom is still trying to explain herself in a humble tone over the phone. "Oh, please don't feel troubled about it, Caleb. I was just asking on a whim. I've already grown used to my old home anyway…" After I end the call, I feel rather stuffy in my chest. What's there for me to feel troubled about? After all, I'm a partner of a top-tier law firm who earns tens of millions of dollars every year. The one who keeps standing in my way is Lucy, who's only a mid-level lawyer yet insists on controlling my finances. She also calls herself the best candidate for the household asset allocation.