At My Dad’s Funeral, My Stepmom Leaned In for a Final Kiss and Saw Him Blink

My blood went cold.

I quickly grabbed my phone and angled it toward the hallway, recording through the narrow crack in the door. Every word she spoke was crystal clear.

I started watching her like a hawk.

The following evening, I pretended to go to bed early. But I left my door cracked and waited.

Around 11 p.m., I heard Veronica in the kitchen.

I crept down the hallway and peeked around the corner.

She was preparing Dad’s nightly drink, the one he always took with his heart medication.

She pulled the same small vial from her pocket and added three drops to the glass.

This time, I was ready.

I burst into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and acted surprised to see her there.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know you were still up!”

I fumbled the glass deliberately, and it shattered on the floor, water splashing everywhere, including all over Veronica’s dress.

She let out a frustrated sound and looked down at the mess.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, grabbing paper towels. “Let me help.”

“It’s fine,” she said urgently.

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