I Pretended to Be an Old Woman's Son at the Nursing Home Because Her Real Family Paid Me – After She Passed Away, the Director Said, 'She Left One Last Request for You'

I didn't think much of it at the time.

I pressed my thumb against the paper. A small brass key slid into my palm.

"She left it to you on purpose," Helen said. "Not by mistake."

Helen explained that because Rosie had left behind a safety deposit box and a written bequest, the nursing home's legal executor would be required to notify Tim as her next of kin. I didn't think much of it at the time.

Word travelled faster than I expected. Four days later, Tim was banging on my apartment door.

"Open up, Jeremy. I know you're in there."

I opened it. He pushed past me, eyes wild, jacket half-buttoned.

"Where is the key?"

"It's not yours."

"You manipulated a sick old woman."

"She was my mother. Not yours. MINE."

"Then where were you?" I asked calmly.

Tim paused. For a second something cracked behind his face, the same flicker I had seen in the coffee shop when he said he could not watch his mother. Then it hardened again.

"You manipulated a sick old woman. I have lawyers, Jeremy. Real ones. You'll be lucky to keep your van."

For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.