My Revenge Begins After My Death
He had a new tattoo on his wrist—my name and a date—the date I died.
The old butler retired and scattered some of my ashes in the Sicolian sea. He said, "Miss, I've brought you home."
Everything settled down, and I felt myself dissipating like morning mist in the sunlight. I took one last look at my love, Calvin.
On the beach, Calvin raised his glass to the sunset and said, "Happy birthday, Charlotte."
After downing his drink, Calvin suddenly gave a wry smile, reached for the pistol beside him, and pointed it at his temple. "Charlotte, I'm coming to join you."