My Second Chance at Revenge
I still remembered his cold fingers gripping my jaw in that dark basement, the hatred in his eyes so deep it almost devoured me.
"Nick Wheaton sent me this useless thing? Is he mocking me? Tell him—this game has only just begun."
I died in the second winter of our marriage—my body covered in bruises, abandoned in the snow to starve.
As my soul drifted above the frozen ground, I saw him standing over my corpse for a long, long time. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, only an endless, suffocating darkness.
And I saw the Wheaton family thriving after my death, feeding off the fortune they had stolen from my mother's legacy.