Chapter 4 - THE POLICY THAT REQUIRED HER TO DIE
The policy valued Gwen’s life at two million dollars.
Her signature appeared on the application.
It was forged.
A medical questionnaire claimed she was healthy.
The policy had been issued six months before her cancer diagnosis.
Margaret paid the premiums using my transfers.
If Gwen died, my mother would become wealthy without waiting for my imaginary compensation package.
Rebecca contacted Detective Laura Chen.
She specialized in elder and domestic financial abuse.
When she reviewed the drug capsules, insurance records, and bank transfers, she asked us to leave the property immediately.
“We still need the full evidence,” I said.
“You have enough for warrants.”
“But not enough to understand the entire plan.”
She looked at Gwen.
“Your wife’s safety comes before the case.”
Gwen nodded weakly.
“I can stay one more night.”
I hated the idea.
But she wanted to retrieve personal documents my mother kept locked in the study.
Rebecca arranged officers nearby.
Dr. Foster placed Gwen under medical monitoring.
The compensation meeting remained scheduled for Friday morning.
My family believed a company attorney would arrive.
Instead, Rebecca, Marcus, and Detective Chen would enter with warrants.
That night, Paige and Margaret held a private conversation in the kitchen.
I listened through the recorder hidden beneath the table.
Paige sounded frightened.
“Bradley says Gavin is asking too many questions.”
Margaret replied.
“Then tomorrow must happen faster.”
“What about Gwen?”
“She can’t attend the meeting looking like that.”
“We’ll give her the tea.”
My hands turned cold.
“What if it’s too much?” Paige asked.
“Then everyone will assume the cancer killed her.”
The sentence ended any remaining doubt.
They planned to poison Gwen before the compensation meeting.
Her death would appear natural.
The policy would pay Margaret.
The imaginary package would become available to the grieving husband.
Then they would pressure me to invest the money in the house.
They believed grief would make me controllable.
I entered the kitchen before they noticed the recorder.
“What tea?”
Margaret smiled.
“Herbal tea.”
“For Gwen’s nerves.”
“I’ll make it.”
“No,” she said too quickly.
“I know the correct amount.”
I looked directly at her.
“The correct amount of what?”
Paige dropped her glass.
It shattered.
Margaret’s expression hardened.
Then she laughed.
“You’ve become suspicious after living alone.”
I stepped closer.
“No one is drinking anything tonight.”
She stared at me.
For one terrible second, I saw the person beneath the maternal performance.
Not embarrassment.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
Then she softened.
“Of course.”
“We are all tired.”
She went upstairs.
I helped Gwen collect her documents.
Inside the locked study, we found her passport, marriage certificate, bank cards, and letters from the hospital.
But there was another folder hidden behind the desk.
It contained photographs of Gwen sleeping.
Medical notes.
A schedule of my flights.
And printed emails supposedly written by me.
In those emails, I told Margaret I wanted Gwen gone.
I called her weak.
Expensive.
Useless.
The messages were fake.
Yet Gwen had seen some of them.
That was how my mother convinced her I no longer loved her.
Then we found a document titled CONSERVATORSHIP PLAN.
It requested legal authority over both Gwen and me.
Margaret planned to claim Gwen was mentally impaired by cancer.
She would claim I suffered psychological damage from years abroad.
If the compensation existed, she intended to control that too.
The fraud was larger than stolen transfers.
My mother wanted ownership of our entire lives.
May you like
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Paige stood in the doorway holding a syringe.
