My Mom's Ten‑Year Test Killed My Dad

The reporters, however, didn't take the bait as Mom had planned.

They smelled a bigger story.

"Mrs. Ferguson, are you reporting your own son for cheating to cover up the scandal surrounding your husband's death and the abuse of your son?"

"Netizens are already organizing a boycott against the Ferguson Group. Do you intend to resign and assume responsibility for this?"

Mom clenched her teeth. Even her breathing grew noticeably heavier.

I knew that look.

She was truly furious.

My heart sank.

The next second, Mom grabbed my arm. Her grip was so fierce it felt as though she was trying to shatter my bones.

"Move."

She dragged me away and threw me into the back seat of her Maybach.

We arrived at Grandma's gravesite.

Following Dad's final wishes, I came here every month to clean and maintain it.

Mom stood before the grave and said coldly, "Either your father comes out on his own, or I force him to come out. You can choose for him."

The instant I grasped what Mom was about to do, a sudden rush of blood surged to my head.

I was trembling all over.

I threw myself at her and pushed her hard in the chest.

"During those years when you pretended to be poor, Grandma emptied her retirement savings to support your business! She pitied you for being an orphan. She scrimped and saved so she could give you the best of everything. She treated you like her own child. How could you...

Mom simply lowered her eyes and regarded me coldly.

"Your father even told you that. Donald was right. He was simply trying to leverage past favors to control us."

Her expression turned even colder.

"Since you won't choose, I'll choose for you."

The henchmen behind her stepped forward.

With a single swing of a hammer, Grandma's tombstone shattered.

"No!"

I threw myself over the grave, clawing at the coffin's seams with my bare fingers.

One year, Dad had worked himself until he collapsed. Even while unconscious in bed, he had kept calling out for his mother.

If he knew that because of him, Grandma couldn't rest in peace even after death, how heartbroken would he be?

"Move."

Mom's bodyguard pried my fingers loose. It felt as though the skin and flesh were being ripped from my fingertips.

Dad still didn't appear.

Mom emptied every last bit of Grandma's remains onto the ground.

"Walter is truly heartless," Uncle Donald said from the side. "Though you scattered his mother's remains, he still won't appear. No wonder he played dumb all those years you were pretending to be poor. He was just scheming to stay by your side."

Uncle Donald suddenly covered his mouth and chuckled.

"Oh, dear. I really shouldn't have said that."

Mom froze, then turned sharply toward him.

"What do you mean by that? Walter knew all along that I was faking being poor?"

"You're lying!" I blurted out almost instinctively. "Dad never knew anything about it. He genuinely loved Mom!"

Mom's expression darkened completely.

A flash of triumph flickered through Uncle Donald's eyes as he stepped closer to her.

"El, do you remember when Mom adopted me? She used to joke that I'd grow up to be your groom."

His expression softened.

"Divorce Walter. I've been waiting for you all these years."

Mom fell silent for a moment, then shook her head.

"No. I won't divorce Walter."

I never thought Mom would say no, and neither did Uncle Donald.

He pursed his lips.

"Why?" he asked. "Weren't you the one who said Walter was inferior to me, that he wasn't fit to be the head of the Ferguson family?"

Mom stared into the distance, as if reliving old memories.

"During those years when I was pretending to be poor, my mother killed herself because my father had cheated on her."

"He was the one who stayed with me through it all. He pulled me out of hell."

"I don't know if he meant it. But without him, I wouldn't have had the will to live."

A gust of wind swept across the cemetery, carrying Grandma's remains through the air.

"You're the one who told me Walter abused you and that he might only want the Ferguson family's wealth," Uncle Donald said.

"Well, the ten-year trial is over. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you and Mike."

Uncle Donald's composure was cracking. His eyes rested on my face for a moment.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, so only I could hear.

"You know something?"

A cruel smile curled across his lips.

"I'm the one who killed your father."