The son had just attended his mother’s funeral to receive the inheritance, but as he leaned down to bid his mother farewell, he saw an odd movement in the coffin.
By his mother’s casket, the son stood. Everything about him seemed to indicate that he was overcome with grief: wet eyes, hands that trembled a little. Neighbors and relatives flocked around him, nodding sympathetically and discreetly watching him. Nobody knew that cold calculation, not grief, was in charge inside him.
He had been estranged from his mother for a long time. He only phoned her when he needed money, and he always had an excuse: issues at work, debt, or a stake in the company. Unaware that her generosity was being taken advantage of, the mother trusted and assisted her only son. The youngster also learned one morning that his mother had passed away unexpectedly and too soon from a heart attack.
The business, the house, and the automobile would all go to the son after his mother passed away, therefore this presented an opportunity. No other heirs existed.
Everyone was crying during the funeral: men stood somberly, wiping away their tears, and women covered their faces with black scarves. The son was the only one who didn’t care. To preserve the appearance of the “loving son,” however, he went up to the coffin. Bending over his mother, he brushed away a tear that didn’t exist while pretending to cry bitterly. People thought he was genuinely grieving, therefore they believed him.
But it was entirely different inside. He even grinned as he thought, “At last, your protection is over; everything is mine now.” He bent toward his mother’s face to conceal it and muttered:
— I have your money now. avaricious wretch.
He was about to get up and get back to his apartment when he saw a strange movement in the coffin and nearly passed out.
Initially, it appeared to be an optical illusion—a tiny movement of the hand or a fold in the garment. However, his legs buckled when his mother’s eyelids blinked.
It was as if the casket sprang to life. Power filled the woman’s eyes as she slowly opened them. No one was able to turn away as the crowd gasped and some screamed.
She said in a quiet but clear voice, “So they didn’t lie to me.” All you want is my money. You despise me. I heard it everything.
Gasping for air, the son went pale and stumbled backward, nearly falling. The ground seemed to have vanished from under his feet. The pretext had lost all relevance, and all eyes were on him.
The funeral had been faked, it turned out. The mother’s “death” was known to the doctors and her loved ones. Despite having survived the heart attack, she chose to try something new: watching her son’s behavior.
And now everyone could see the truth. She left the person who wished to inherit her property with nothing.
Now, the tears were genuine, but they came from humiliation and terror rather than sadness.
