he funeral air was thick with grief, but the woman standing next to my daughter-in-law was a total stranger. Following them into the restroom, I froze as a chilling whisper drifted from the stall: ‘Now that she’s dead, the inheritance is ours. We just need to get rid of the mother-in-law next.’ My blood turned to ice. They weren’t mourning; they were hunting. How do I escape a house full of killers?
The scent of lilies was overwhelming in the cramped funeral parlor as we gathered to say goodbye to Martha, my daughter-in-law’s mother. My daughter-in-law, Chloe, stood by the casket, her face a mask of practiced grief. Beside her stood a woman I had never seen in five years of family gatherings—a tall, sharp-featured woman Chloe…
