I Took A Job As A Live-In Companion—And Got Caught In A Rich Old Woman’s Secret Plan For Payback

 

Fresh out of college, broke and desperate, I took a sketchy-sounding job:
“Live-in assistant. Discretion required.”

I expected weird. I got a mansion.

Elliot and Marla—late 20s, cold, polite—acted like ghosts.
Then I met Ms. Adeline Crane—80s, frail, flawless lipstick, eyes like steel.

She asked two questions:
“Are you patient?”
“Are you loyal?”

I said yes. She hired me.

By day three, things felt off.
Her crystal swan vanished. Her meds got tampered with.
She just smiled. “They wouldn’t dare. But they might.”

Then Elliot announced they were moving out.
Ms. Crane sipped her tea and said, “Lovely. I’m updating my will.”

The next day, they were perfect angels. But she wasn’t buying it.

She gave me a key. Said: “Rent a van. Friday. Two flickers. Come in.”

That night: scream, crash, silence.
Marla opened the door, sobbing. “She’s dead.”

Except… her room was empty.

I ran to the greenhouse.
There she was—standing tall, no oxygen. Alive. Smirking.

“Just wanted to see what they’d do,” she said.

Three days later, Elliot cried on TV.
Ms. Crane watched from a cabin up north. Sipping real tea.

The will?
Everything to charity.
I got $200K.
Serena, her long-lost niece, got the house.

Elliot and Marla?
They got nothing. Except a lesson.

Justice isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s planned.
And absolutely devastating.