With a trembling hand, I signed each document: property transfers, bank account access, absolute powers of attorney. All fake. All legally worthless.
But they didn’t know it.
“Thank you, Mom,” Mark said, kissing my forehead. “Rest now. Everything will be fine.”
That kiss sent shivers down my spine.
As soon as they left the room, I heard them shout with happiness in the hallway.
“We have it. We finally have it!”
Rachel was celebrating.
“Seven million, honey. Seven million. We are rich. Officially rich.”
They went down to the living room, exactly where one of the cameras perfectly focused on them. Mark opened a bottle of expensive French champagne from my private cellar.
“To my dear mother,” he said sarcastically, raising his glass. “May she rest in peace very soon.”
Rachel laughed.
“We’re finally getting rid of the old lady. I thought this day would never come. Tomorrow I’m calling the bank. We’re transferring everything to our accounts before she dies. That way there are no legal complications.”
“And if they ask anything,” Mark said, “we have the signed papers. It’s completely legal.”
He smiled wickedly.
“Well… almost legal.”
“What are we doing first with the money?” Rachel asked.
“Paying off my debts,” Mark said. “Eight hundred thousand in one go. After that, that penthouse we saw in Miami—three million—and then travel. Europe, Asia, wherever we want. And the house—we’re selling it furnished. Two point eight million. I don’t want to stay here one day longer after she dies.”
They drank more champagne, getting drunker, becoming more reckless with their words.
“You know what’s the funniest thing?” Rachel said. “She thought you were a good son until the end. She died believing you loved her.”
Mark let out a loud laugh.
“I loved her money. She as a person was always unbearable—controlling, critical, nosy.”
“Let’s toast to that,” Rachel said. “To her imminent death and our permanent freedom.”
They clinked glasses again, completely unaware that every word, every gesture, every admission of contempt was being recorded in high definition.
From my room, with my phone in hand, I sent the videos in real time to Sarah. Her response was immediate.
Perfect. This is gold. With this, plus the other evidence, we will destroy them in court.
“When do you want to execute the final plan?” she asked.
I thought for a moment. I needed it to be public, to be devastating, with no way for them to escape.
“Tomorrow,” I replied. “Organize the family meeting we discussed. Invite everyone.”
“Are you sure?” Sarah wrote back. “It will be brutal.”
“I know,” I answered, “and that’s exactly why I want to do it.”
The next morning dawned with bright sunshine that contrasted with the storm that was about to break.
Sarah had worked all night organizing what she called the truth meeting. She had contacted my brother Michael, who lived in Oregon and knew nothing of my supposed terminal condition. She also invited three notaries, two attorney witnesses, and the detectives who had interrogated Mark the day before.
Mark and Rachel knew nothing of this. They thought it was just another day waiting for my death.
At nine in the morning, Mark entered my room with a smile he no longer bothered to hide.
“Good morning, Mom. How did you sleep?”
“Very poorly, son,” I whispered. “I think today is my last day.”
I saw his eyes shine with barely contained excitement.
“Don’t say that, Mom,” he said. “Although if it is your time, I want you to know I always loved you.”
Liar until the end.
“Mark,” I said, “I want to ask you a favor. I want to see the whole family one last time—your uncle Michael, the important people in my life. A proper goodbye.”
Mark frowned.
“Mom, Uncle Michael lives five hours away. He won’t make it in time.”
“He’s already on his way,” I said. “I called him last night. He’ll arrive by noon. Please, son. It’s my last wish.”
He couldn’t refuse without seeming like the monster he was.
“All right, Mom,” he said, tight-lipped. “As you wish.”
“And I want it in the big living room,” I added. “I want to go downstairs. I want to be surrounded by my things one last time.”
“Mom, you’re too weak to go downstairs.”
“Brenda will help me. Please, Mark. It’s the only thing I ask.”
He sighed, clearly annoyed by the complication, but nodded.
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