So I gritted my teeth and dipped into my husband's accident compensation to pay her bills.
Kay was grateful—or at least she acted like it. She told me constantly that I was like a daughter to her.
And I treated her like my own mother. I cared for her, year after year, until the day she passed.
Then the funeral ended, and Matthew walked in with a lawyer carrying Kay's will.
Every last asset went to Matthew and his family.
Even the house my husband and I had purchased together—half of it, signed away.
That was when it all became clear. Every tearful plea, every empty promise. The three of them had been working together from the start, and I'd walked right into their trap.
When Matthew and Leila told me to get out, I refused.
In the middle of that argument, they'd caught me off guard and shoved me down the stairs together.
Kay's drawn-out sighs pulled me back to the present.
"Jeanette, if it's too much trouble, then forget it." She let out a weary breath. "I've got surgery in a few days and I'll need someone to look after me, but I don't want to be a burden on you."