My Stepchildren Couldn’t Wait for Me to Di:e, Wanted My Money, I Gave Them Something to Choke On

With Peter’s assistance, I staged it. The paperwork was issued by the hospital. My will was’read’—though, conveniently, I had made arrangements for a second version to remain undisclosed for the time being. The funeral was scheduled.

They arrived dressed in black, crocodile tears on full display, perhaps already deciding what to sell first. This is when the doors opened.

And there I was, very much alive, carried into the funeral home in a wheelchair, my heart racing faster than ever. The expressions on their faces? Priceless.

I delivered a short speech. Nothing exciting, just the facts. I reminded them that while their biological mother went, I remained. I gave up everything to provide children a good life. In return, they saw me as a bank account that needed to be closed.

Then I took out my revised will—the actual one. I had given everything, every penny, to a children’s shelter in the city.

“These children,” I explained, “know what it’s like to grow up without affection or family. They will not take this for granted.

“Stepmom Fakes Death to Expose Greedy Children”—front page. My stepchildren are suddenly internet famous, but for all the wrong reasons.

As for me? I am alive, well, and finally free. And I hope I taught them the most essential lesson of their lives: to adore those who love you and are willing to give up all for your pleasure.