Five Christmases after my death, my doctor wife Wynona Stewart once again wanted me to take the fall for her first love, Gavin Wilson.
She burst into my old apartment with a forged agreement, only to find nothing but dust covering everything.
In her panic, she grabbed Daniel Lynch, the convenience store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I was.
But Daniel told her: "Everett? He died five Christmases ago. I heard the family from that medical malpractice case wouldn’t let it go—they cornered him in the alley at midnight and stabbed him over a dozen times."
Wynona didn’t believe it, convinced that Daniel must have taken my money to lie for me.
She rolled her eyes and snorted coldly: "So I suspended him for two Christmases and now he’s really mad at me? Tell him if he doesn’t show up within three days, I’ll stop paying for his sister’s cancer treatment!"
With that, she stormed out, cursing under her breath.
Daniel watched her retreating figure and shook his head with a sigh: "What sister? His sister died long ago because there was no money for treatment."
