My Dead Dad Is Watching Them

I was the only daughter of an incredibly wealthy man—naive, soft-spoken, and painfully agreeable. But I was also someone who listened to advice. When my father died of a sudden heart attack, my world fractured. As I knelt weeping outside the ER doors, my stepmother, my half-brother, and my fiancé immediately shed their disguises. They wanted me gone. They wanted the company keys. They wanted me stripped of everything. I was on the verge of giving in, too weak to fight back, when I saw the words. Luminous, floating text scrolled across my vision like a live-stream feed. [Don’t cry! Your dad is faking it. He took a beta-blocker cocktail to test them. Don’t blow his cover!] … Meredith stood over me, looking down like I was something she’d stepped in. "Your father is gone," she said, her voice flat and dry. "Go pay the ER bill, and while you're at it, hand over the corporate seal." She didn't have a single tear in her eyes. I sat paralyzed on the freezing hospital floor, my mind a complete blank. Just half an hour ago, my dad had been sitting across from me at the breakfast table, complaining about his coffee. Then he’d gasped, clutching his chest, and collapsed. By the time the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, he had stopped breathing. I was crying so hard I could barely draw breath, my fingers clutching the hem of Meredith’s trousers. "Meredith, please. The doctors said they could try one more time. Tell them to use whatever it takes. I’ll pay anything." "Don’t be naive, Isabel. Death is final." Meredith brushed me off with a sharp jerk of her leg. She usually wore casual athleisure, putting her arm around my shoulders and telling everyone we were more like best friends than stepmother and daughter. Now, her face held nothing but naked, cold calculation. "Isabel, sweetie, I’ve always looked out for you like my own. Now that your father's gone, let me carry this burden. What do you know about running an empire? Hand over the vault keys and the signing authority." I stared at her, utterly shattered. My father’s body wasn’t even cold, and she couldn’t even bother to pretend anymore. "I won't," I whispered, my voice trembling. "We haven't even planned the funeral. How can you do this?" Before she could answer, a heavy set of footsteps stomped down the hallway. It was Brody, my half-brother, his bleached blond hair disheveled and a vicious sneer on his face. "The old man is finally dead!" Brody yelled, pointing a finger directly at my face. "You useless leech, hand over those keys!" "The Mercer estate belongs to me. You’re just a daughter who’s going to marry out anyway. What right do you have to anything?" He lunged forward, grabbing a handful of my hair, and shoved me hard against the wall. A sharp pain shot through my scalp. I gasped, instinctively looking toward my fiancé, Simon Graham, who was standing a few feet away. "Simon, help me!" Simon walked over slowly. He reached down and pried Brody's fingers off me. For a second, I thought he was going to defend me. But then he pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and began wiping his hands with slow, deliberate disgust. "Isabel, Brody is right. You have nothing now. Stop being difficult," Simon said. His eyes, once so warm, were now as cold as winter frost. "If you hand over the corporate seal quietly, I will still honor our engagement and marry you. Think of it as my final act of charity. Don't push your luck." I felt suffocated. The three people I trusted most in the world had turned into monsters in less than an hour. My hand trembled as I reached into my purse for the keys. I was ready to give up. I was ready to let them take it all just to make the nightmare stop. But then, the glowing words appeared in the air. [Don’t give it to them! You don’t know the first thing about running the company. If you surrender the seal, they’ll bleed you dry.] [They’ve been plotting this for months. Simon is already sleeping with Meredith's niece.] My fingers froze inside my bag. Then, a bold red line of text floated past: [Don’t cry! Your dad is faking it. He took a temporary-coma drug to test their loyalty. Don’t blow his cover!] [I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't know where these floating words were coming from, but I had always been highly suggestible—especially when I was completely overwhelmed. I looked at the closed double doors of the ER. [Dad is alive? He's in there, listening to everything?] I pulled my hand out of my purse and took a deep, steadying breath. "I don't have the keys on me." "Bullshit!" Brody kicked a metal trash can, sending it clattering across the linoleum. "I saw you slip them into your designer bag before we left the house!" He lunged to grab my bag. I hugged it tightly to my chest, refusing to let go. Simon sighed, a look of profound annoyance crossing his face. "Isabel, do you really want to make this ugly? You don't have a single penny in your personal account. Without the Mercers, without me, you won't even be able to buy groceries. Just listen to me, okay?" I hesitated. Part of me, the old, weak part, desperately wanted to believe him. Then the text flashed again: [Girl, are you seriously this gullible? You believe a single word out of his mouth?] [Listen to us: Play along, act weak, and record everything they do.] [Your dad is practically vibrating with rage in there. Let him see their true colors.] [I clenched my jaw, keeping my head down so they wouldn't see the shift in my eyes. I held onto the bag with everything I had. Brody raised his hand to strike me, but a passing nurse yelled at him to behave. Meredith, realizing they were drawing a crowd, smoothed down her shirt and forced a tight, fake smile. "Fine. Keep your useless keys for now. Stay here with the corpse." She sneered, leaning in close. "Brody, Simon, let's head to the estate. There's plenty of valuable art and antiques to secure anyway." Watching them walk away, I felt a wave of cold fury replace my fear. The text floated again: [Don't worry. Let them rob the place. Anything over ten thousand dollars is a felony.] [Go buy a spy camera. There’s going to be a grand performance at the mansion.] [I wiped my face, pushed myself up from the cold floor, and looked through the glass window of the ER at the sheet-covered figure on the bed. "Meredith, wait! I'm coming with you," I called out, making my voice sound as weak and broken as possible. I didn't take an Uber. I took the city bus, stopping at a local tech shop to buy a tiny spy pen, just as the comments suggested. When I opened the front doors of our suburban mansion, my jaw dropped. The grand living room was completely trashed. The Italian leather sofas had been slashed open, and the crystal glasses lay shattered across the hardwood floor. Brody was standing by the fireplace, hammering away at the wall safe with a heavy mallet. "What's the damn passcode? Even dead, the old bastard is a pain in the ass!" Meredith was standing nearby, directing two movers to pack up my dad's favorite paintings. "Careful with that landscape. It's a genuine piece. It’ll fetch at least half a million." I trembled, balling my fists. Text scrolled wildly in my vision: [Record it! This is textbook grand larceny and destruction of property!] [The meathead’s got muscle. Let him smash. The more he breaks, the longer his prison sentence.] [I swallowed my anger, pasting a terrified expression on my face, and crept into the room. "Meredith, what are you doing?" Meredith didn't even look guilty. "Oh, Isabel. I'm just organizing your father's estate. These paintings are just gathering dust. We need to liquidate them to cover the company's cash flow crisis." "But those were Dad's favorites..." "Shut up!" Brody snarled, pointing the mallet at me. "One more word and I'll crack your skull next!" I shrank back, letting tears well up in my eyes. Simon came downstairs, holding a small velvet jewelry box. It was my mother's heirloom—a priceless emerald necklace. "Simon, that's my mother's!" I lunged for it, my heart dropping. He dodged easily and handed the box to Meredith. "Isabel, don't be selfish. Meredith has been working herself to the bone for this family. Think of this as a token of appreciation." "Simon, that is my inheritance! How dare you give it away?" "Because I am your fiancé!" Simon snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Isabel, get a grip. Your father is dead. You are an orphan with zero leverage. If I wasn't protecting you, Brody would have thrown you out on the street hours ago." He stepped closer, looking down at me. "Sign the proxy voting rights of your shares over to me, and I'll make sure you have an allowance for the rest of your life." The text flashed: [The audacity of this mediocre man. Using your money to play savior.] [Agree to it! Ask for the transfer papers. Keep them placated.] [Your dad's legal team is already on their way. These agreements are legally void, but they're gold-standard evidence of fraud.] I took a shaky breath, letting my shoulders slump. "Okay, I'll sign. But please, give me back my mother's necklace." Simon sneered, pulling out pre-drafted documents from his briefcase. "We'll talk about the necklace later. Sign first." "I... I don't understand these terms." "You don't need to. Just sign," Meredith urged, tapping her foot. I picked up the pen, my hand shaking so hard I could barely write. Brody snatched the pen and shoved me. "Hurry up!" I tumbled to the floor, scraping my palm against the rough rug. "Brody, play nice with your sister," Meredith said insincerely, a smirk plastered on her face. I lay on the floor, looking at their ugly faces. The comments were right. I had to play the long game. I got up and signed my name. Simon blew on the ink, satisfied. "See? Was that so hard?" He turned to Meredith. "Meredith, since Isabel is being so cooperative, she can handle the receiving line at the wake tomorrow. Kneeling, preferably." Meredith laughed, putting the emerald necklace around her neck. "Of course. She is the daughter, after all." "Oh, and Isabel," she added, tossing another document on the floor. "Your dad left a thirty-million-dollar debt under the company's name. As the eldest daughter, you'll be taking sole responsibility for this liability." "Thirty million? But the company's financial report last month showed we had a massive cash surplus!" "What do you know?" Meredith barked. "That was creative accounting. Your dad blew it all on bad investments." "If you don't sign, creditors will seize this house tomorrow, and you'll be sleeping on the streets." The text flashed like strobe lights: [Sign! Sign it now! That thirty-million-dollar debt is a fake contract set up by Meredith's brother, Todd.] [The moment you sign, they’ve committed major wire and contract fraud. Ten years minimum!] [Every ounce of your patience right now is another nail in their coffin.] I bit my lip, crying out, "I'll sign... just please don't kick me out." I signed. Meredith snatched the paper and exchanged a triumphant look with Simon. "Now get out of my sight. Go to your room," Brody ordered. I walked upstairs. As I reached the landing, I heard him yell, "Mom, her room is the biggest. I'm moving my stuff in!" "Go ahead, sweetie. It's got the best light. Perfect for you and your future wife," Meredith replied. I froze, turning around. Brody was already coming up with the movers. He kicked my door open. "Throw all this garbage out!" My clothes, books, and childhood stuffed animals were tossed into the hallway. "Stop! This is my room!" I tried to block them. Brody shoved me hard. "Your room? The old man is dead. This whole house is mine!" He grabbed a photo album off my desk—the only picture I had with my late mother. "Why keep dead people's junk? It's bad luck." He ripped the photos to pieces and threw them out the window. "No!" I screamed, lunging toward the window. The shredded pieces drifted down like snow. My chest ached as if my heart had been torn apart too. "Brody, you monster!" I glared at him, my eyes burning. "Oh, she's got teeth," he mocked, raising his hand to strike me. "Stop!" Simon called out, grabbing Brody's wrist. For a fraction of a second, I thought he was defending me. "Don't bruise her face," Simon said coldly. "She has to look presentable for the wake tomorrow. If she's black and blue, people will talk." He looked down at me. "Isabel, behave yourself. No one is coming to save you." I stared at the man I had loved for seven years, feeling a deep, physical revulsion. The text floated quietly: [Don't cry. Tears won't solve this.] [The higher they climb, the harder they fall tomorrow.] [Go pick up your photos. Then slip down to the basement and grab your dad's backup laptop.] I took a deep breath, ignored them, and ran downstairs. I gathered the shredded photos from the lawn, tears dripping onto the wet grass. "Good girl. When you're begging on the streets next week, maybe I'll toss you a quarter," Brody laughed from the balcony. The next day, at the funeral home, I sat kneeling in the chapel, wearing a faded black T-shirt. Meredith had thrown away all my clothes. "The funeral is tomorrow and you don't even have a decent black dress. Unbelievable," she had sneered. The chapel was decorated lavishly, but my father's urn was the cheapest wood option available. Meredith claimed we needed to save money for Brody's new sports car. I kept my head down, greeting guests mechanically. The spy pen in my pocket remained active. Midway through, Meredith walked up to the microphone. "Dear friends and family, thank you for joining us to send Thomas on his final journey." She dabbed her dry eyes with a tissue. "But today, besides mourning him, I have a painful announcement to make." The room went quiet. Meredith pointed a finger at me. "Isabel is not Thomas's biological daughter!" The room erupted into whispers. I looked up in feigned shock. Meredith pulled out a document. "This is the DNA test I received yesterday. Isabel shares no genetic markers with my late husband. Her mother was unfaithful, pregnant with another man's child when she tricked Thomas into marriage twenty years ago!" Flashes went off. Reporters, tipped off beforehand, swarmed the chapel. "That's a lie!" I stood up, trembling. "The proof is right here!" Meredith sneered. "Thomas knew before he died, which is why he left his entire estate to Brody. We've raised this imposter for twenty years out of charity, but today, I am cleaning house!" Simon walked up next, looking pristine in a sharp suit. "Since Isabel is not of Mercer blood, the family engagement is officially off. I cannot marry a fraud." He reached out and took the hand of a girl standing near Meredith—her niece, Amber. "Amber is the rightful lady of the household. Our engagement will be next month." Amber gave me a smug, triumphant look. I stood there, feeling stripped bare under the glares, whispers, and flashing cameras of the high-society crowd. "What a parasite..." "Poor Simon, dragged along by a fraud for years." Brody lunged forward, grabbing my collar. "You heard her! Get the hell out of here!" He shoved me, and I fell hard, my knees scraping against the marble floor. Two hired security guards pinned me down, my face pressed against the cold stone. Suddenly, the text on my screen flared up in brilliant, rapid succession: [Time’s up! The beta-blockers are wearing off!] [The casket lid is lifting. Let the show begin!] [Isabel, stand up! Tear them apart!]