My sister called me in tears.
“Mom died last night,” she sobbed into the phone. “The funeral is Friday.
She left everything to me, so don’t bother coming back. You get nothing.”
I held the phone away from my ear and just smiled.
Why?
Because my mother was standing right next to me, sipping her morning tea and looking very much alive.
My name is Amara, and at thirty-two, I make my living finding hidden money as a forensic accountant. But nothing prepared me for the fraud my own sister was trying to pull.
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If you have ever been the black sheep of your family, let me know in the comments.
This story is for you.
The morning air in Martha’s Vineyard was crisp and smelled of saltwater. It was the kind of peace you only find when you are hundreds of miles away from the chaos of Atlanta.
I sat on the patio of our rented private villa, watching the sunrise over the Atlantic. To my left, my mother—Mama Estelle—moved slowly through her Tai Chi routine.
At sixty-five, she looked radiant.
Her skin was glowing, and the tremor in her hands that had plagued her months ago was completely gone. We had spent the last four months here in secret, hiding from the world, and more specifically, hiding from my sister, Dominique.
I took a sip of my coffee and opened my book, ready for another quiet day.
Then my phone shattered the silence.
The screen lit up with a photo I had taken years ago of my older sister, Dominique. Just seeing her name made my stomach tighten.
I hesitated for a moment. We had gone strictly no-contact for weeks.
I looked at Mama Estelle. She was facing the ocean, lost in her movements.
I slid my thumb across the screen to answer, but I did not say a word.
“Amara, are you there?” Dominique’s voice was high-pitched and trembling.
It was a performance I had heard a thousand times before.
She took a loud, dramatic breath.
“It’s Mom. Oh God. Amara… Mom is gone.”
I sat up straighter in my chair, my eyes locked onto my mother’s back.
She was transitioning into the crane pose, perfectly balanced.
“What are you talking about, Dominique?” I kept my voice flat.
Even though I knew the truth, hearing the words still sent a chill down my spine.
The story doesn’t end here –
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