The young man stepped between the casket and the older woman.

“What did you do to her?”

“I did nothing.”

The woman in the coffin struggled to open her eyes.

Her lips barely moved.

“Basement…”

The older woman snapped,

“She’s delirious!”

But the young man was already gripping the key.

He ran downstairs.

At the end of the basement hallway stood a locked cabinet.

The key fit.

Inside were bottles of medication.

A syringe.

And a folder with the dead woman’s name on it.

He opened the folder.

His hands began shaking.

Life insurance.

Property transfers.

A new will.

Everything transferred to the older woman if the young woman died before midnight.

He heard footsteps behind him.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“You weren’t supposed to find that.”

His face went cold.

“You drugged her.”

“She was going to destroy this family.”

“She was going to expose you.”

The older woman said nothing.

Then a weak voice came from behind them.

“She already did.”

They turned.

The young woman stood in the doorway, barely able to stay on her feet.

A nurse supported her.

In her hand was a phone.

Recording.

The older woman went pale.

The young woman looked at her.

“You tried to bury me before I could tell him the truth.”

The young man rushed to her.

“What truth?”

She looked at him through tears.

“That woman isn’t your mother.”

Silence.

“She’s the woman who killed her.”