I never thought I’d lose my wife at just 35. Elizabeth was everything to me, and when she died suddenly in a car accident, my world collapsed. At her funeral, a fortune-teller approached me and whispered chillingly, “Her death was no accident.” I wanted to ignore her, but her words haunted me. That night, while going through Elizabeth’s belongings, I discovered receipts for a rental car. We already owned two cars—why would she need another?

Seeking answers, I contacted her best friend, Sarah, who confirmed Elizabeth had rented the car for a surprise trip but never got the chance. When I checked with the rental company, I learned the car had been returned—not by Elizabeth, but by her sister Karen. Even more disturbing, the odometer showed almost no mileage. Something wasn’t right.

I went to the police, and after an investigation, they found evidence the brakes had been tampered with. The shocking truth soon came out: Karen had forged Elizabeth’s signature on a life insurance policy, naming herself the sole beneficiary. She confessed to staging the accident for the payout.

I was devastated. The same woman who had comforted me and my daughters after the funeral was the one who had coldly orchestrated Elizabeth’s death. Karen was sentenced to life in prison, and while justice couldn’t bring my wife back, it gave me a measure of peace. Weeks later, as I stood at Elizabeth’s grave, I remembered the fortune-teller’s words: “Your wife won’t rest until justice is served.” A butterfly landed on her headstone, and in that moment, I knew Elizabeth could finally rest.