My Mother-In-Law Stole My Life Insurance Policy, So I Faked My Death To Expose Her Fraud

Her smile was a razor blade wrapped in velvet. Barbara closed the door behind her, the latch clicking with a finality that made my blood run cold.

"You look dreadful, darling," she cooed, gliding toward me. The scent of expensive lilies and decay followed her. "I brought you some herbal tea. For your nerves. You’ve been so... erratic lately."

She held out a delicate china cup. Steam curled off the surface. My throat was parched, screaming for moisture, but the paper in my pocket felt like it was burning a hole through my thigh.

"Thank you, Barbara," I rasped, taking the saucer. My hands shook.

"It would be a tragedy," she said, adjusting a diamond ring on her finger, "if your illness took a sudden turn. Mark left such a mess of the Estate Law matters. It’s better if things are... simplified."

I lifted the cup. The steam hit my face. Under the peppermint, there was something else. Sweet. Bitter. Like almonds.

Toxicology reports usually take weeks. Barbara didn't plan on waiting that long.

"I think I hear the kettle whistling downstairs," I lied, my voice trembling.

She turned her head, just for a second.

I dumped the tea into the potted fern on the desk and brought the empty cup to my lips, feigning a swallow just as she looked back.

"Delicious," I whispered.

Ten seconds later, the fern's vibrant green leaves began to curl. Brown spots bloomed across them like a plague. I stared at the dying plant, realizing Elder Abuse was too soft a term. She was hunting me.