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Last life,every minor disease they goy meant hospital stays,burning cash,with me as their nurse.To make time,I swapped shifts to look after them by day and work at nights,exhausted.
If I resisted,the family would gang up,guilt-tripping me.
Margaret,good to me?
She's a master at faking crocodile tears.Before marriage,she travelled twelve-hour by train just to bring me farm eggs, which had me, an orphan, immediately bursting into tears.
"You've got no family—let me be your real mom.I want us to be family soon,but we're poor,so our dowry..."
Pitying them,I waived their dowry.But who pitied me?
After we got married,they treated me like a slave,yet bragged,"We felt sorry for a lonely girl,letting her marry in to enjoy our blessings!"
Today,I ignored her tantrum.
Colleagues,knowing I was widowed,blocked Lily for me.
Realizing I wouldn't budge,she slunk off to handle the paperwork.
After surgery,a colleague tipped me off:Margaret was awake,looking for me.
Lily,after sorting things our at the hospital,ditched her mom,using school as an excuse.
I checked my phone—a text from Lily:
"Emma,take care of Mom.I've got classes—gotta go."
She said I should act like a proper daughter-in-law,or I'd be barred from the family cemetery,doomed to wander as a ghost.
I laughed.Is this the 1800s?I can't remarry?Can't have my own grave?
I headed to the hospital dorm.
Through the surveillance cameras at home,I saw that Lily was still fussing over her mole,not at school.
Keep at it.
Sure enough,days later,she was scratching her chin on camera,looking itchy.
Melanoma was likely forming.
Her"Mole Diary"blog updated:"Fortune's here,yay!"
The post showed clasped hands,one gripping a Maybach's steering wheel.
For half a month,Lily posts consisted only of yachts or snowy mountains,carefree,forgetting her hospitalized mom.
The man in her pics though looked familiar—where had I seen him before?
Days later,she called,asking for a loan.
"Emma,I've got a killer business deal.Want in?"
I refused flat-out.
"One million!Give me a million now,I'll give you back 1.1 million in a month."
I raised a brow."I'm broke."
She didn't quit,offering a"painful"deal."1.2 million—no more."
"Lily,if I had that cash,would I slave away working?I'd be living it up like you."
She missed my sarcasm,bragging that is her boyfriend wasn’t temporarily short on cash,she would never "cheapen"herself for me.
She was after my house.
"No way—I'm too much of a coward for your quick cash!"
Before she exploded,I added,"But I've got a suggestion."
I remembered:that man was the mastermind of the Litchfield fraud case.A lifetime ago,he scammed millions from hundreds of people and fled abroad.
Lily's"luck"was impeccable!
