I Met a Fortuneteller After My Wife’s Funeral — the Next Day, Her Prediction Came True

A fortune teller at my wife Elizabeth’s burial after her tragic car accident said, “Her death was no accident.” The next thing I discovered was a terrible secret.

I never imagined being 35 and a widower. My rock was Elizabeth. She had been taken in an instant by the vehicle collision. I recall sitting in a hotel thousands of miles away from her at the time, gasping for air at the prospect. After five years of marriage, she simply vanished.

I couldn’t make it home in time for the service. My mother-in-law contacted me in tears and told me that my kids, Sophie, 4, and Emma, 5, were constantly asking where “Mommy” was. How could she describe something that she didn’t even fully comprehend?

As soon as my plane touched down, I hurried to the cemetery. Still in a trance, I sensed that someone was observing me as I made my way back to the car. I initially believed it to be my imagination, but then I noticed an elderly woman standing close to the cemetery gates.

Her face was marked with deep creases that gave her an elderly appearance. She had piercing, keen eyes that appeared to look right through me.

Softly, “Excuse me,” she called.

I paused but said nothing. I was too exhausted to engage in conversation, much less one with a complete stranger.

“I know your fate,” she replied in a solemn, deep voice.

I scowled. “What?”

She went on, “Cross my palm with silver, and I’ll reveal what joy and sorrow lie ahead,” as she extended her hand.

I looked at her, perplexed. Did she mean it? Someone who tells fortunes? In a funeral home?

I murmured, “Look, I’m not interested,” and turned to leave.

“Elizabeth won’t rest until justice is served.”

I was halted in my tracks by that. I narrowed my eyes and turned around. “What did you just say?”

The woman beckoned with her bony fingers. Her words were, “Twenty dollars,” “That’s all.”

I would have ignored her in a normal situation. However, I was too numb to give a damn. At the time, $20 had no meaning for me. I gave her a crumpled bill as a result.

She took hold of my hand, which felt cold, yet her hold was firmer than it appeared. She kept her gaze fixed on me, and for a split second I felt vulnerable, as if she could see all of my suffering.

She mumbled, “Today, you lost someone dear,”

I said, “Yeah, no kidding,” with a nasty tone. “We’re standing outside a cemetery.”

She didn’t recoil. “Your wife’s death was no accident.”

A chilly shiver went up my back. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t get the full extent of her death. The truth will start to come to light tomorrow.

My mouth became parched. “What are you saying? What’s the truth?

Her smile was sluggish and eerie. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll see.”

She turned and vanished into the mist as if she had never been there before I could ask her any more questions. For a moment, I stood motionless, not sure if I should be terrified or angry.

A part of me wanted to dismiss it as absurd. However, there was a deeper, unpleasant feeling in another part of me that kept thinking about Elizabeth.

I lay awake in bed that night. I could always see Elizabeth’s face when I closed my eyes. She chuckled. Her grin. She said good night to the girls in a quiet voice. And she was gone now. However, the fortune teller’s words lingered in my mind like vultures, haunting me. “Your wife’s death was no accident.”

Could it have happened? Could the crash have been more serious?

With a groan, I stood up and went to get Elizabeth’s belongings. If only for a short while, I needed to feel connected to her. I went through her clothes, notebooks, and pocketbook. There were memories of her everywhere.

Then I located them. receipts from a vehicle rental company.

“What’s this?” I turned the papers over in my fingers and said to myself. We drove two vehicles. What makes a rental necessary for her?

The fortune teller’s words abruptly came back to me. “There’s more to her death than you know.”

My heart was racing as I gazed at the receipts.

Was there something Elizabeth was concealing?

I had the unshakeable impression that something was seriously amiss the following morning. I kept thinking about what the fortune teller had said: “There’s more to her death than you know.” I needed to know more, but I didn’t want to believe her.

I gave Sarah, Elizabeth’s closest friend, a call. Elizabeth had her automobile serviced at the garage where she worked. She might be able to explain those receipts to me.

“Hi, Sarah. I began, attempting to maintain my composure, “I need to ask you something… strange.”

“Obviously. “What’s going on?” she said, her voice worried.

“Did Elizabeth bring up the subject of automobile rentals with you? I discovered receipts, but I’m not sure where they came from.

The person on the other end of the line paused.

“Really,” responded Sarah slowly, “she did rent a car for a beach excursion. Remember how you brought both of your cars to me for repairs?

I never bothered to look for our cars in the garage because I was so consumed by my sadness. “But why didn’t she tell me?” I asked out loud.

“She wanted it to be a surprise,” Sarah went back. “After the trip, she promised to return the rental. The rental can be reached at this number.

My mind was racing, but I thanked Sarah and hung up. There was a problem. I required clarification.

With my heart racing, I drove directly to the rental firm. The manager retrieved the documents after I gave my explanation.

I’m sorry, dude. We were unaware of the mishap. We accepted the vehicle as it was returned undamaged,” he said. “Her sister Karen brought it back.”

The ground underneath me shifted. Karen? Why would she do that? Why would she start by fixing the car?

“Is there anything else in the records?” I responded.

The supervisor looked at the screen. “Just the usual information, with the exception of… hmm. Not much was driven in the automobile. The odometer only gained a few miles.

It was all illogical. I was dazed when I left the workplace. Karen would return the automobile, but why? What did she conceal? I knew I couldn’t face her alone, but I needed to talk to her.

I visited the cops. My feeling that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident was becoming too strong to ignore, even though I didn’t want to believe it. I described everything, even the rental car receipts and the unsettling fortune-telling prediction.

The cop paid close attention.

“We’ll investigate,” he promised. “You see, at first we concentrated on cleaning up the area and figuring out that the accident was a tragic one brought on by a brake failure. Since Elizabeth was the only person engaged and there were no witnesses, the investigation didn’t seem essential at the moment. We assumed it was just another regrettable mishap.

The days that followed were a haze. My mind was racing with potential solutions, and I hardly slept at all. Was Karen responsible for Elizabeth’s demise?

I recalled all the times she had been there to offer support and condolences following the accident. How could someone who had come across as so compassionate be complicit in such a sinister endeavor?

The police were on the move. When they examined the rental car, they discovered something terrible: proof that the brakes had been tampered with. As the truth came to light, my heart fell.

Soon after, the police discovered more. They discovered that, only a few months before to the accident, Karen had purchased a life insurance policy on Elizabeth. She was the only beneficiary since she had falsified Elizabeth’s signature.

I was feeling nauseous. The death of my wife had been murder, not an accident. And it was her own sister who was at fault. It was too much to take the treachery.

I was unable to even look at Karen when she was taken into custody by the police. It had all been orchestrated by the same woman who had prepared meals for my family and sat by my side during my darkest hours.

During the questioning, she revealed that she had tampered with the vehicle to make Elizabeth’s death appear to be an accident. For financial gain. In order to pay back the loans she took out to support her lifestyle, she had been relying on the life insurance benefit.

Once more, the fortune teller crossed my mind. In the worst way imaginable, her words had come true. “Your wife won’t rest until justice is served.” Because her death had been prearranged, Elizabeth had been unable to sleep. icy. by a reliable source.

Karen received a life sentence. Although it didn’t bring Elizabeth back, there was some justice in knowing that Karen would never harm anyone again. As the punishment was delivered, I sat in the courtroom feeling numb.

A few weeks later, I happened to be passing the cemetery once more. As I got closer to Elizabeth’s tomb, the leaves crunched beneath my feet and the air was crisp. I pondered the fate teller, the enigmatic elderly woman who had more knowledge than I could have ever imagined.

As I stood there looking at the flowers on the floor for a while, I muttered, “You can rest now.”

A butterfly landed on the headstone as I was about to depart. Elizabeth was telling me that she was finally at peace, and I knew it was her.

I thought about the fortuneteller’s remarks a lot, but I never saw her again. Although that $20 had taken me down a direction I never would have anticipated, it ultimately provided me with the truth.

And even though it hurt, the truth was worth every penny.