My Daughter Rigged My Car To Inherit $2 Million — So I Set A Lethal Trap

Part 1

The trunk of the car was slightly ajar.

Among the shopping bags, I saw the forgotten brown leather purse of my daughter, Megan.

The gold details glinted in the afternoon sun.

A flash of recognition caught my attention like a magnet.

In that instant, a deep chill ran down my spine.

A violent presentiment made my hands tremble.

“Stop the car right now!

I yelled at my sister, Heather.

Heather gripped the steering wheel tightly.

She looked at me with wide eyes.

“What is it, Brenda?

Are you feeling sick?

Stop the car,” I repeated.

My voice sounded more hysterical than I intended.

At seventy-two years old, I had learned to trust my instincts.

Every fiber of my being screamed that something was terribly wrong.

My sister sighed.

She pulled over onto the dirt shoulder.

I unbuckled my seat belt.

I turned around in my seat.

I stretched my arm to reach the bag in the back.

My fingers brushed the brown leather.

I yanked it towards me with a sudden movement.

The purse fell onto my lap.

It was heavier than normal.

Too heavy to contain only a wallet and lipstick.

With trembling hands, I opened the main zipper.

Underneath a silk scarf sat a cheap burner phone.

It was warm.

The screen lit up with notifications from WhatsApp.

It did not have a password.

Heather leaned over.

Her expression shifted from curiosity to confusion.

“Why would Megan have two phones?

That exact question made my blood run cold.

I pressed the messaging application.

The last chat was with a contact saved simply as ‘T’.

T: “They already passed the point.

15 minutes ago.

They must be close.

Megan: “Tyler, everything will go as we planned.

My breathing became irregular.

I scrolled down the conversation.

Each message was worse than the last.

T: “The mechanic confirmed the brake job.

They will fail at mile marker 48.

My hands started to shake.

The curve at mile marker 48 was the most dangerous one on the entire highway.

It had a steep cliff on one side and jagged rocks on the other.

T: “Are you sure about doing this?

She is your mother.

Megan: “We do not have another option.

The debts are $350,000.

If we do not pay, Tyler and I will be dead.

Megan: “Mom has properties worth more than $2 million.

Nobody will suspect an accident on that road.

The phone dropped from my lap.

It clattered against the center console.

Heather picked it up.

Her face drained of color.

“Good heavens,” she whispered.

“Brenda, this cannot be real.

But I knew it was real.

All the pieces clicked into place.

Megan’s frequent visits in the last few weeks made sense now.

Her sudden insistence that I give her power of attorney was a glaring red flag.

Her probing questions about my will had annoyed me at the time.

“Keep reading,” I told Heather.

She slid her finger across the screen.

There were conversations dating back two months.

There were photographs of my bank statements and property deeds.

“Brenda, we have to call the police,” Heather reached for her own phone.

“No, not yet.

Heather stared at me.

“Your daughter is trying to kill you.

She was right.

I needed to think.

I looked at the dashboard.

We were at mile marker 35.

The death curve was barely thirteen miles away.

The silence inside the car was deafening.

I held the burner phone like a venomous snake.

“I need to understand everything before I make any move,” I murmured.

“Brenda, there is nothing to think about,” Heather’s voice went up an octave.

“Megan and that wicked Tyler planned to kill us.

Any moment now, we could crash.

I know,” I interrupted.

“But if we call the police now, they will find out and destroy evidence.

My sister looked at me in disbelief.

The pain of discovering my own daughter’s betrayal tore at my chest.

But underneath that pain, something cold began to grow.

Ice-cold rage.

Megan had planned my death.

My only child had decided I was worth more dead than alive.

“We are going to test the brakes right now,” I made a quick decision.

Heather wiped her face.

She started the car.

She moved forward a few feet.

She stepped on the brake.

The car stopped normally.

“It seems like they work,” Heather said.

“They designed this for the brakes to fail exactly on the most dangerous curve,” I noted.

“We are thirteen miles before that.

I looked at the phone again.

T: “The mechanic says it is undetectable.

He used a special liquid that corrodes the system gradually.

By the time they reach the critical point, there will be no way to stop the car.

After the impact, the fire will take care of eliminating any evidence.

They had thought of everything.

“Listen to me, Heather,” I took her hands.

“We are going to pretend we didn’t find anything.

Normal?

Heather swallowed hard.

“We are going to call Megan,” I said.

“We are going to tell her we found her purse.

Heather studied me for a long moment.

“You want to set a trap for them?

I want justice,” I corrected.

“And I want to make sure that when they fall, they fall so hard they can never get up.

I took my own cell phone from my pocket.

I pressed the call button.

“Mom,” Megan’s voice sounded sweet.

“Did you get home already?

Everything’s fine on the road?

Every word was a stab.

“Hello, my love,” I forced my voice to stay level.

“We haven’t arrived yet.

We stopped because we found your purse in the trunk.

There was a silence.

“My purse,” Megan’s tone shifted.

“Oh, yeah.

I hadn’t even noticed.

It is not important, Mom.

You can bring it to me when you arrive.

Well, it has your phone inside,” I measured the impact.

“Your iPhone?

I thought you would need it.

Another pause.

“No, Mom.

I have my iPhone here with me.

Maybe it is an old phone I left forgotten there a long time ago.

She was lying.

“Anyway, you will stop by to pick it up tomorrow, right?

I asked.

“Yes, yes, I will stop by tomorrow,” Megan rushed.

“Mom, be careful on the road.

That highway is dangerous, especially the big curve.

Drive slowly, okay?

My own daughter was warning me about the exact place where she had planned my death.

“We will, my love.

I love you.

I love you, too, Mom.

I hung up.

The burner phone vibrated again.

Megan: “Tyler, damn it.

They found the purse.

T: “Did she check the phone?

Megan: “I do not know.

She sounded normal, but what if she saw the messages?

T: “If she suspected anything, she would have called the police.

The fact that they are still on the way means she does not know anything.

T: “In less than one hour, everything will be over.

I looked at the car clock.

It was 4:37 in the afternoon.

According to their calculations, by 5:30 I would be dead.