She Stopped Faking Crazy After I Died,So I Came Back for Revenge

I slapped Dolores right back, and the blow left her stunned.

Then I turned to my son.

"She tore up your books, so you took her money. That's only fair."

I patted his back gently. "Just focus on your studies and get into a good college. Don't worry about anything else."

In my previous life, Tyler had been a senior in high school, right at the point where every ounce of effort counted. The pressure was already crushing enough on its own, but Dolores had nearly driven him to a complete mental breakdown. He spent every waking hour buried in his textbooks, and by nighttime, all he wanted was a few hours of peace.

But every night, around two or three in the morning, he'd start screaming and sobbing. By the time my husband and I rushed to his room, Tyler would throw himself into my arms, clinging to me like his life depended on it.

His face would be chalk-white, his lips trembling uncontrollably.

"Mom... there's something in here! Something in this house!"

My breath caught. I rubbed his back in slow circles.

"Tyler, calm down. Tell me what happened."

He could barely get the words out between sobs, pointing a shaking finger at the window.

I looked outside. Nothing but pitch darkness.

"Mom! I saw a woman with white hair standing outside the window, calling my name."

Seeing him so terrified he could barely hold himself together, I immediately hired a priest to come bless the house.

But even after the blessing, Tyler still ran to my room every night, crying, saying something was watching him.

To help him sleep, I started spending every night by his side.

The strange thing was, once I began staying with him, whatever had been tormenting him stopped appearing.

It wasn't until after I died, when my spirit wandered the earth for seven days, that I learned the truth from Dolores's own mouth. The thing that had been terrorizing my son every night was Dolores herself, dressed up and playing ghost to scare him.

I bent down and scooped up every last bill scattered on the floor, stuffing them into my pocket.

Dolores let out a wail like a wounded animal, crawling toward me, raising her fist to bash my head in.

I caught her arm and shoved her back with one hand.

In my previous life, she'd spent every day beating me under the cover of her so-called madness. The neighbors who saw it would just shake their heads and tell me not to hold it against her. They all said she'd only gone crazy after I married into the family, that something about my fate was toxic to hers, that I was the reason she'd lost her mind.

And I'd actually believed it. I'd believed she was truly, irreversibly insane, and I'd swallowed my grievances for thirty years.

Even after my cancer diagnosis, I still catered to her every need. I bathed her. I fed her by hand.

During baths, she'd deliberately relieve herself right into my hands. During meals, she'd fake a gag reflex and vomit all over me.

I swallowed every last bit of that humiliation in silence.

Not this time. Never again.

I seized Dolores by the wrist and jabbed a finger right in her face.

"You vile, miserable old hag! You've torn this family apart piece by piece, and the fact that I still put a roof over your head is more than you deserve!"

"Push me one more time, and I'll throw you out on the street!"

Dolores clearly hadn't expected me to talk to her like that.

She collapsed to the floor, sobbing dramatically, and turned to my son for sympathy.

"Your mother's cursing at me! She's cursing at me!"

I called Tyler over. "Tyler, ignore your grandmother. She's out of her mind. Don't listen to a word she says."

Tyler had no real affection for this grandmother who caused chaos every single day.

When he was little, he'd nearly died multiple times, and every single incident traced back to her. If it weren't for the thin thread of blood relation, he would have disowned her as his grandmother a long time ago.

He heard me and followed without a word.

To make sure Dolores couldn't pull the same tricks she had in my previous life, robbing my son of sleep and sabotaging his studies, I packed Tyler's bags and prepared to send him to my mother's house.

Then I went straight to the school and had the mailing address for his college acceptance letter changed to my mother's address.

In my previous life, Tyler had fought tooth and nail to get into college. His acceptance letter had just arrived at the house while I was out working in the fields. The mailman saw that only Dolores was home and handed the letter to her.