It Was Only After My Tragic Death That I Realized My Cold-Hearted Mother Loved Me All Along

After I was raped and murdered, my mom started selling meat buns.

The buns she made were incredible—thin dough, packed with juicy, flavorful fillings.

Rumors began to spread that the thugs who’d gone missing in our town might’ve somehow ended up inside the buns.

My mom just laughed when she heard.

"How could that be? I’d never use old meat in my buns," she said with a smirk.

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One day, someone found a severed finger in one of her buns.

The shop erupted in chaos. Customers screamed, some ran out, others vomited.