How Did William Afton Die Novels & Stories

She wanted to know his opinion. An hour later, William arrived. Similarly, Eve made him check on Vincent’s condition and determine whether he was really dead, or something else was going on. Willian was an old doctor. He was experienced, and his medical skills were outstanding. He glanced from the bedside and confirmed that Vincent had already died. He even purposely examined Vincent in detail to confirm that there was nothing wrong just in case. “Mrs. Braun, your husband is really dead.” Even William had said so. It looked like it was totally hopeless.

Until the third day, the old man couldn't take more and his poor heart lost its beating after a heart attack. " I killed him. " That was all, I said to Cupcake. She didn't say anything but I think her eyes sparked with the same passion as mine. Revenge. We freed our little angel. We took our baby murderers' lives. The next day police found the dead body of Mr. Altaf at the end of the cliff and the local newspaper had the headline, The famous businessman, Mr. Altaf died at the hand of the serial killer.

All of the people involved had some sort of connection to the Gregory property. My eyes widen as I pick out a familiar name in the mix of victims: Ashford. I picture the face of Penny’s doctor, the one who had conspired with Vera to keep the old woman sedated and who had later been brutally murdered by his own wife. Was it possible that Dr. Ashford’s death had been related to the house? I knew he hadn’t been attacked near the swamp and that he had ultimately passed away in the hospital. Did that mean whatever was on the Gregory property wasn’t bound to the land? I don’t even want to think of the implications that would hold for Tanner and me.

Could it be that this parson was sent by Hudson to kill them and that include himself but they didn't see him. Mr. William actually die in two days while he was in the hospital and it was confirmed to him that his father was poisoned. He went to the room and finally came to realise that the person was actually a lady because the drinks was a black label and they were two glasses in a tray with a half and full drinks.

"Emily Borges, 31, passed away during the ambulance transport. William Ashford, 33, is critically injured and has been rushed to London Central Hospital." A few drops fell onto the keyboard, and I realized they were mine; I hadn't noticed I was crying. I wiped my face with the sleeves of Will’s shirt and scrolled further down, where I saw images of the accident scene... I covered my mouth to muffle a sob. It was truly devastating; the front of the car was totaled, and the driver’s side windshield had a massive hole where, clearly, someone had been thrown through. "My God! How did I never see this?" Now I understood why Susan never spoke of it.

"How?" "I've been investigating Marcus Wolfe for three months. Different case, but your name came up. When I saw the connection to William Ashford, I started looking deeper." She opens her notebook. "Your father's death was ruled a suicide. Drove his car off a bridge. But the autopsy report never sat right with me." "Why not?" "Bruising inconsistent with the crash. Traces of sedatives in his system. And the bridge he supposedly jumped from? Security cameras were conveniently offline that night." She looks at me. "I think someone killed your father and staged it to look like suicide."

"Or did The Wolf make sure he didn't survive long enough to give us more information?" Santos arrived within the hour. Examined the photo. Ordered an autopsy. Two days later, results came back. Victor Ashford died of acute respiratory failure. Expected with his stage of cancer. But the toxicology report showed something else. Traces of a paralytic agent. Untraceable. Designed to look like natural death. Victor hadn't died of cancer. He'd been murdered. By The Wolf. In a federal hospice. With FBI agents outside. The Wolf could kill anyone, anywhere, anytime.

I must look like a madman, panting and disheveled. “What is going on?” I demand, scanning the room. Relief floods me as I see that Willa appears unharmed. Willa glances at one of the officers, who nods solemnly. “They were taking Walter to the station, but…” she hesitates, her voice trembling slightly, “there was a horrible crash. Both him and the two officers were killed instantly. He never gave them any information.” “Oh shit!” My jaw drops, and I feel the weight of shock settling in. “That’s horrible! I mean, I was angry with Walter, of course, but I would never wish for him to die… and those poor officers… I’m so sorry.”

Carla asked as she watched William turn around the moment they entered the living room. "I'm going out for a walk. You should go to bed early." William said. He just wanted to go to the backyard. As he stood by the wooden tombstone that Crista had built, William's heart ached. He recalled that Crista had gone crazy living here and had tried to commit suicide, and that William had forcefully kept her alive. But she had disappeared in the end. He was the reason behind it all. Would he ever get the chance to make it up to her?

Soon, Matthew learned about their location and sent his men to fetch them. Ashton and Blake were going in somewhere in their car when they spotted a suspicious car. It was enough to cause alarm bells to go off in their head. They knew they were being followed. They sped up and so did the followers. The cat-mouse chase went on for some time until Ashton's car got hit by an approaching truck. Their car turned over twice after skidding in a circular motion. Ashton died on the spot whereas Blake's pulse was still there. Matthew's men took them to the hospital. And this is how Blake turned into a living dead. Matthew took her in and started her medication so that one day she would get better enou