My Husband Faked His Death,So My Mother-in-Law Made Me the Billionaire Heiress

Amy nodded, a cold smirk twisting her lips. "Better yet, we could just kill Myra outright. That way, your dear foster mother won't escape legal consequences either—"

"No." Theo cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. "If my foster mother ends up in prison, when would I ever get my hands on her fortune?"

He began to pace, his voice dropping to a bitter mutter. "All these years, she's kept an iron grip on everything. Even though I grew up right beside her, she never fully trusted me. I don't even know exactly how much she's worth."

His eyes hardened. "So my foster mother has to die."

"Only when she's dead will I inherit everything."

A satisfied smile crept across his face. "Before I staged my death, I'd already been lacing her premium bird's nest congee with a slow-acting poison. She can't sleep without drinking a bowl every night."

"Right now, everyone thinks she's hospitalized because Myra upset her." He let out a low laugh. "But the truth is, she's been poisoned. It won't be long before she's gone for good."

"And even if the doctors discover the toxins?" He spread his hands. "They'll assume Myra did it out of spite. It'll never trace back to me."

Amy's eyes lit up with barely contained excitement. "Theo, you're brilliant! Once your plan succeeds, we can finally—"

His phone buzzed, cutting her off.

Theo glanced at the screen, answered, and listened for barely three seconds before grabbing Amy and kissing her hard. "My contact at the hospital says she's fading fast!"

He was already pulling her toward the door. "We need to get there now—she has to write that will before she goes!"

They arrived at the hospital within the hour.

A heavyset middle-aged doctor was waiting at the entrance. The moment he spotted them, he hurried over, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "You're finally here. Any later and you might've missed her entirely."

Theo's face broke into barely concealed delight. "She's really that far gone?"

Dr. Warren Holt nodded grimly. "She won't make it through the night. Severe poisoning. Multiple organ failure. She's conscious now, but that could change any moment—"

Before the doctor could finish, Theo was already dragging Amy through the hospital doors, his mind racing ahead to the performance of a lifetime: the devoted son, devastated by grief.

As they rushed down the corridor toward the private wing, he fired off instructions.

"When we get to the room, follow my lead. Don't break character."

"And rub some ginger under your eyes—we need real tears. It won't look right otherwise."

"Whatever happens, we walk out of there with her assets. Understood?"

He pulled out a piece of fresh ginger he'd brought for exactly this purpose and began rubbing it beneath his eyes. Amy grimaced but followed suit.

By the time they reached the VIP ward, both of their eyes were red and streaming.

But when they rounded the corner to the private suite, they stopped dead.

The corridor outside the room was packed.

Every single one of the executives who managed the old woman's empire stood there, silent and still. And every single one of them was watching Theo and Amy approach.

Their expressions were... strange.

"Must be because they heard she's dying," Amy whispered, recovering first. "They rushed over to pay their respects."

She squeezed Theo's arm, her voice bright with anticipation. "Once you have that will in hand, you'll be their new boss."

Theo liked that reasoning. He arranged his features into a mask of grief and approached the eldest of the group—a steady-eyed man named Bruce Kane who'd been with the family for decades.

"Uncle Bruce." Theo's voice cracked artfully. "I came as soon as I heard."

He dabbed at his ginger-reddened eyes. "How is she? She was always so healthy—I don't understand how this could happen so suddenly."

Neither Theo nor Amy noticed the way Bruce's gaze flickered over them.

Nor did they catch the looks exchanged among the other executives—the barely concealed contempt, the quiet disgust rippling through the crowd.

Bruce's voice was flat, betraying nothing. "The chairwoman's been asking for you. You should go in."

Theo and Amy rushed to push open the door.

Their faces were masks of grief, tears streaming down their cheeks.

Amy's voice cracked with a sob. "Chairwoman, Mr. Mason is back—he's alive! Please, you have to hold on!"

Theo wailed as if his heart were being torn from his chest. "Mother, your son has failed you, I—"

The words died in his throat.

He and Amy stood frozen in the doorway, stunned into silence.