• Chapter 3

  • Then inspiration struck. I threw myself across Dave’s body, wailing. “Baby, what are we going to do? If we don’t get you cremated before 11 AM, your soul won’t find peace!

  • The other families in the waiting room turned to stare.

  • 1 dropped to my knees, clasping my hands. “In my grandmother’s culture, there’s a belief that cremation has to happen before 11 AM, or the soul can’t cross over. Please. I’m begging you could we possibly go ahead of you?”

  • Some looked sympathetic, others skeptical, most just uncomfortable.

  • I pulled out my phone. “I’ll send each family $3,000 through Venmo right now.”

  • Money talks. They agreed immediately.

  • After transferring the cash, I wheeled Dave toward the cremation chamber.

  • I noticed his middle finger twitching. Still trying to flip me off, even at the end.

  • I leaned down and whispered, “Scared now, aren’t you? Should’ve thought about this before you

  • decided to screw me over.”

  • The crematorium technician asked me to wait in the lobby.

  • I pressed a thousand–dollar bill into his hand. “Please, let me stay with my husband until the very

  • end.”

  • “Rest in peace, darling,” I said sweetly as I helped slide him into the chamber and hit the ignition

  • button.

  • The flames roared to life.

  • Moments later, the doors burst open.

  • Carol and Mike had made it.

  • When Carol saw the flames through the chamber window, she collapsed in a dead faint.

  • Nightc

  • 80.3%

  • “Shut it down! He’s not dead? Mike showed, rushing toward the control.

  • me?” I said sharply.

  • dead and signed the

  • he’s alive? Want

  • Mike froze, trembling

  • never saw

  • alive in our

  • at serious jail time if he admitted what he’d

  • would be

  • you had me worried there for a second,” the technician said.

  • he was alive going

  • shot up inside the chamber.

  • I jumped.

  • about that,” the technician

  • contractions from the heat. Happens all the

  • “Oh, thank goodness!”

  • I both knew

  • Dave’s

  • over and threw

  • guilt of being an accessory to murder was hitting

  • okay there, doc?”

  • 80.5%

  • he gasped,

  • back to

  • then headed

  • I broke down in

  • Mom had sold her house to help me

  • worked herself to death, doing double shifts at the diner

  • had failed her then.

  • we’re going to

  • had passed when I was young, and Mom had raised me

  • with mac and cheese–comfort food she rarely

  • mentioned something

  • Millions jackpot ticket last week–just a quick

  • had misheard and printed

  • left it on the coffee table, but it had vanished.

  • won $200 million with a

  • store.

  • ticket,” she chuckled sadly. “But what can you do? I’m just

  • stopped. I pulled out the ticket and checked the store number. It matched the convenience store near

  • your ticket.

  • won $200 million.”

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