My mother-in-law went mad, I’m sure of it.

After my wife passed away, my son and I struggled to make ends meet, especially with my illness hindering my ability to work. My mother-in-law was wealthy, yet never lent a hand. When she died, I hoped for some inheritance for my son. But all she left was a tattered old couch. It felt like a cruel joke, until my son sat on it and screamed, “Dad, there’s something inside!” I thought it was a spring, but felt something large and hard. Cutting open the couch, I was shocked at what was hidden inside… I turned pale, realizing what we had stumbled upon. It had been a bleak period since Emily passed. Every day was a struggle, not just emotionally but financially as well. My illness made it nearly impossible to hold a steady job, and the bills kept piling up. My mother-in-law, Gertrude, had always been a distant and cold woman. Despite her wealth, she never offered us any assistance, not even after her daughter’s untimely death. When we learned of her passing, I harbored a faint hope that she might have left something behind for her grandson, at least. The day after her funeral, we received a delivery. It was the old, worn-out couch from her living room, the one she had insisted on keeping despite its shabby state. It was a puzzling and disappointing inheritance, to say the least. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger and despair. Was this some kind of sick joke? Why would she leave us a piece of junk instead of the financial help we desperately needed? My son, Timmy, seemed curious about the couch. He had always been a bright and inquisitive child, traits that had helped us navigate through our toughest days. “Dad, can I sit on it?” he asked. I nodded, too lost in my own thoughts to really pay attention. A few minutes later, a loud scream jolted me out of my reverie.