Surely, my mother-in-law went mad. After my wife’s passing, my son and I struggled to make ends meet, especially with my illness hindering my ability to work. Though my mother-in-law was wealthy, never lent a hand. When she passed away, I hoped for some inheritance for my son. But all she left was a tattered old couch.
It felt like a cruel joke, until my son sat on it and screamed, “Dad, there’s something inside!” I thought it was a spring, but felt something large and hard. I cut open the couch, and I was sh0cked at what was hidden inside… I turned pale, realizing what we had stumbled upon.
It had been a bleak period since Emily’s passing. Every day was a struggle, not just emotionally but financially as well. My illness made it nearly impossible to hold a steady job, and the bills kept piling up. My mother-in-law, Gertrude, had always been a distant and cold woman. Despite her wealth, she never offered us any assistance, not even after her daughter’s untimely d_eath. When we learned of her passing, I hoped that she might have left something behind for her grandson, at least.
After her funeral, a day later, we received a delivery. It was the old, worn-out couch from her living room, the one she had insisted on keeping no matter how shabby it was. It was a puzzling and disappointing inheritance, to say the least. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger and despair. Was this some kind of sick joke? Why would she leave us a piece of junk instead of the financial help we desperately needed?
My son, Timmy, seemed to be curious about the couch. He had always been a bright and inquisitive child, traits that had helped us navigate through our toughest days. “Dad, can I sit on it?” he asked. I nodded, too lost in my own thoughts to really pay attention. Some minutes later, a loud scream jolted me out of my reverie.
“Dad, there’s something inside!”
