For seven years, I cared for Mrs. Patterson, an elderly woman abandoned by her own family. They visited just enough to take money before vanishing again, leaving her heartbroken by the window, waiting for love that never came.
She had wealth but no warmth, and over time, she became my family. We cooked, played games, shared stories—she was my home in a way no place had ever been.
Meanwhile, I had no family left. But with Mrs. Patterson, my life had meaning.
Recently, she passed away. At her funeral, her relatives shed fake tears, their eyes gleaming with greed. I went home, grieving… until a knock at my door changed everything.
Two officers stood there. “Are you the caretaker of Mrs. Patterson?”
My face flushed hot. “I did shop for her groceries, run errands, things like that. She insisted on giving me cash each week. But I never took more than what we agreed was fair for her care and the extra supplies she needed.” A tear slid down my cheek. “I would never steal from her.”
Detective Araya’s hardened expression softened. “We have to follow every angle, Miss Benson.” She sighed, tapping the folder on the table. “Here’s the situation: The family is pushing hard to bring charges against you. But so far, we haven’t found direct evidence of wrongdoing. We’ll be investigating further.”
They let me go later that evening, but I was far from free in my own heart. Anxiety twisted my stomach. Even if the police found no reason to arrest me, I knew Mrs. Patterson’s children would drag my name through the mud. They never cared for her, yet here they were, claiming everything she had—and pointing fingers at me.
The next morning, I received a phone call from Mr. Harper, the attorney listed on the will. His voice crackled with warmth. “Nora, it’s good to hear from you. I can guess you must be in quite a whirlwind right now.”
