Brenda stood frozen in the middle of a busy metro station, her heart racing. She had just seen someone who looked exactly like Harper—her late son’s wife.
But how could that be? Harper was supposed to be dead.
It had been a year since Brenda had lost her only son, Christopher. He was just 27 when a terrible accident took him away. Brenda had fallen into deep depression after that. Her world had gone dark, and she ended up spending nearly a year in a mental health clinic.
Now, she was finally ready—ready to visit her son’s grave and say goodbye properly. She had traveled across the country, carrying the weight of grief on her shoulders.
As Brenda stepped off the metro, she glanced around. Her heart nearly stopped when she spotted a familiar figure in the crowd.
It was Harper.
It can’t be! she thought, blinking. It’s her hair, her eyes, even her walk. That’s Harper!
Brenda rushed forward and tapped the woman’s shoulder.
“Harper! Harper? Wait a second!”
But the woman spun around with a frown.
“I’m not Harper. You’ve got me wrong, lady!” she snapped and pushed Brenda’s hand away before vanishing into the crowd.
Brenda stood there in shock. That was Harper. I know it! I’m not imagining things…
Still rattled, Brenda stepped outside and got into a cab. As the car drove to the cemetery, her mind swirled with questions. Why would Harper lie? Why would she pretend not to know me?
“Ma’am…we’ve arrived,” the cab driver said, pulling up to the gates of the cemetery.
Brenda thanked him and stepped out. The place was quiet, the wind brushing gently through the trees. She walked slowly, scanning each row of graves until she finally found Christopher’s tombstone.
Her legs almost gave out beneath her. She dropped to her knees and placed her trembling hand on the stone.
“Oh, Chris…” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “I miss you so much…”
Then, something strange caught her eye. The grave next to Christopher’s had a brand-new headstone.
Brenda blinked, reading the name aloud:
In Loving Memory of Harper. S.
January 8, 1995 – December 3, 2020
Forever cherished, forever missed.
Rest in peace.
Brenda’s jaw dropped.
“What? Harper? DEAD?” she gasped. “That’s impossible! I just saw her at the metro!”
Her heart pounded as she looked around. A man was raking dry leaves nearby. Brenda rushed over to him.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Did Harper Sutton’s funeral happen recently? This grave is new.”
The man stopped, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it slowly.
“Yeah…last week,” he said, puffing smoke into the air. “Strangest funeral I ever saw. No friends, no family—just the people from the funeral home. They buried her and left. No flowers, no speeches. Cold as hell.”
Brenda frowned. “No one’s visited her since?”
“Not that I’ve seen, ma’am,” he said. “I live right here. Haven’t seen a soul come near it.”
Something felt deeply wrong.
Brenda knew there was only one person left who might have answers—Jake, her son’s best friend and business partner.
She knocked on Jake’s door that evening. He opened it with a surprised look.
“Mrs. Sutton? Oh…wow. Come in, please.”
Brenda stepped inside and immediately noticed two packed suitcases by the door.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
Jake nodded nervously. “Yeah. Early flight. I’m leaving the state. It’s been rough, you know…since Chris died. The company went under. I need a fresh start.”
Brenda’s brow furrowed. “Wait. The company went bankrupt?”
Jake nodded again. “Yeah. Things just spiraled. Harper inherited everything but didn’t want to be involved in the business. I took over.”
Brenda crossed her arms. “I saw Harper’s grave next to Chris’s. No one told me she passed away. What happened, Jake?”
Jake looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to stress you more, Mrs. Sutton. After Chris died and you went to the clinic, I didn’t want to add more pain. But Harper…she made some bad choices.”
Brenda leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
Jake sighed deeply. “Harper didn’t know anything about the business, but she convinced me to take out loans and look for investors. We were desperate to save the company. She said she’d handle the paperwork. A week ago…she cleaned out the account. Five million dollars—gone. Then the police found her car burned and crashed off a cliff. She died instantly.”
Brenda stared at him. “What? She stole five million and died in a car crash?”
Jake nodded slowly. “They found her gold ‘H’ pendant in the ashes. Burned body, burned money. Police ruled it an accident.”
Brenda’s mind reeled. “You said her funeral had many guests, but the cemetery worker said no one came…”
Jake looked nervous again. “Maybe he wasn’t there when people visited…?”
Brenda narrowed her eyes. Something felt wrong.
“When’s your flight?” she asked.
“Six a.m.”
Brenda smiled. “Would you mind if I stayed here tonight? Hotels make me nervous. It’s only for one night.”
Jake hesitated, then forced a smile. “Of course. Make yourself at home.”
Brenda lay in the guest room, fully dressed, her mind racing. She didn’t sleep a second. At 2 a.m., she crept into the living room and opened Jake’s suitcase.
Her heart almost stopped.
Inside a hidden pocket were two passports—with fake names.
One had Harper’s photo. Name: Sarah Blake.
The other had Jake’s photo. Name: John Carter.
Brenda’s eyes widened. “Oh my God… Harper is alive. She’s running away with Jake!”
Two first-class plane tickets to London were tucked inside.
Shaking with shock and anger, Brenda carefully put everything back. Then she slipped out and rushed to the 24-hour pharmacy nearby. She bought sleeping pills and returned just in time.
By 5 a.m., she was in the kitchen making breakfast.
Jake walked in, yawning.
“Morning, Mrs. Sutton.”
“Good morning, Jake! Let me make you a good meal before your big trip. Orange juice?”
Jake smiled. “Thanks, that’s kind of you.” He drank it.
Within twenty minutes, Jake was fast asleep on the couch.
Brenda waited. Come on, Harper…
At 5:30, Jake’s phone buzzed. A message popped up.
“How could you oversleep, idiot? I’m getting a taxi and coming now. Don’t screw this up.”
Brenda smirked. “Come on over, Harper…”
At 6:10, the doorbell rang. Brenda peeked through the peephole. It was her.
Harper.
Alive.
She opened the door quietly and stepped inside.
“Jake! Are you kidding me? Get up!” Harper shouted.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind her.
“ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, HARPER?”
Harper spun around, just in time to see Brenda swinging a heavy vase.
CRACK!
Harper fell to the floor, unconscious.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Brenda opened the door and waved them in.
“I have evidence,” she told them calmly. “Fake passports. Plane tickets. Everything.”
Jake and Harper were taken to the hospital first, then arrested.
Jake refused to talk. But Harper, facing a long prison sentence, broke down.
“We paid a morgue worker to steal a homeless woman’s body,” she confessed. “We dressed her in my clothes, put my gold pendant on her, and planted her in the car. Then we burned the car and pushed it off the cliff.”
The detective frowned. “What about the stolen money?”
“We wired the five million to new accounts overseas,” Harper admitted. “We thought we’d be free forever…”
She lowered her head, tears falling into her cuffed hands.
Brenda stood outside the police station later that evening, watching the flashing red and blue lights fade away.
She whispered, “You almost got away with it, Harper. But you forgot one thing… A mother never stops fighting for her son.”
