I was shocked when I lost my wife Elizabeth in a terrible car accident. When I was 35, I lost my wife all of a sudden and had to raise our two young girls by myself. The funeral was a blur, but I will always remember the sweet faces of our children.
I could feel a sharp gaze on me as I left the service. An old woman stood near the graveyard gates with intense, unsettling looks in her eyes.
As she whispered, “I know your destiny,” she offered to tell him the future for $20.
I paid attention to what she said: “Lizabeth will not stop until justice is done.” I got chills when someone mentioned my wife’s name.
I was hesitant to give her the torn bill, but I had to because I needed to know what was going on. I could feel her cold, strong grip on my hand.
“The death of your wife was not an accident,” she said.
I kept hearing her words in my head long after she was gone. I had a strong feeling that Elizabeth’s death was not what it seemed.
I dug deeper and looked through Elizabeth’s things for hints. I saw a stack of receipts from a car rental business and looked at them.
We already had two cars, so why did Elizabeth rent one? I called Sarah, her best friend, who worked at the shop where our cars were being fixed.
It was Sarah who told them that Elizabeth had rented the car for a secret trip to the beach with the girls. Why didn’t she tell me, though?
Records from the rental company showed that Elizabeth’s sister Karen returned the car in good condition. The odometer showed very little miles.
My suspicions grew. The cops reopened their investigation after I told them about it.
A few days later, the cops found that someone had messed with the rental car’s brakes. It hit me like a tonne of rocks that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident.
A shocking truth was found after more research. Karen got Elizabeth’s life insurance by forging her name, and she stood to make a lot of money from her death.
Karen’s arrest and statement showed a scary reason: she did it for money.
As I sat in court, feeling numb and pleased, I realised that what the fortune teller said had come true. The ghost of Elizabeth could finally rest.
A few weeks later, I whispered to Elizabeth’s grave, “You can now relax.” When a butterfly landed on Elizabeth’s grave, I knew she was at peace.
The fortune-teller’s words are still fresh in my mind, but I’m thankful for the truth, even though it hurts. That $20 told me something I never would have thought possible.
It was fair, but it would take some time for the damage to heal. I promised to keep going, remembering Elizabeth and our life together with love.
