That night, her words lingered, and I found myself searching through Elizabeth’s belongings. Among her things, I found unexpected receipts from a car rental service. But with two cars, why would she need a rental?
The next day, I contacted Elizabeth’s best friend, Sarah, who confirmed that Elizabeth had rented a car while ours were being serviced. But something felt off, so I went to the rental company. They revealed that Elizabeth’s sister, Karen, had returned the car with no visible damage. Why would Karen return it?
Unable to shake my suspicions, I went to the police. What they uncovered was terrifying—evidence of tampering with the brakes on the rental car, along with a life insurance policy Karen had forged in her name as the sole beneficiary.
Elizabeth’s death had not been an accident; it had been a calculated plan by her own sister. Karen was arrested and later confessed. The betrayal was unfathomable, but justice was finally served.
A few weeks later, I returned to Elizabeth’s grave. A butterfly landed on her headstone, and I felt a calm I hadn’t known since her passing. Elizabeth was finally at peace, and I knew the truth—no matter how painful—had been worth uncovering.