He’s dead. Finally.

All those years of waiting have paid off.

The day I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived.

After nearly twenty fricking long years of waiting, I’m sitting in the first row by the coffin of my dead husband. Just like I have imagined—even better.

I’ve ordered the cheapest plastic roses and sprayed them black, decorating the chairs and around the bouquet tables.

He was 82 when I met him, and I fresh out of college. He intrigued me with his Rollex collection, his voice like old money bills, and the way his liver spotted hands shook when he signed checks.

Did I ever love him? Hell no. Only signed up for the money.

Old guy didn’t have any family left to leave his fortune with. Wife passed away years ago, never had a son, and his two daughters died in a car accident.

I would have killed him myself, maybe poisining him? Or just the old fashion way? I don’t know, sometimes I still debate which option would have been better. But I chose the waiting at the end. The natural death that comes around at a point for everyone. It’s just the safest way, you know?

I’m holding a crumbled tissue in one hand, and in the other my Louis Vuitton black purse.

The lights are dimmed, and theres not much people at the funeral. Just some friends of his, neighbors, and people who came just to see if they get any money out of this.

I’m wiping my eyes, but I can’t hold back my smile thats curling up slowly from the ends of my mouth.

Life with him wasn’t perfect, but perfection wasn’t necessary when you have twenty thousand dollars a week landing in your purse. I mean, come on— I lived in a mansion with five cars in a garage, acres of land, and a private jet.

The only time I saw him was at night, but either way we barely spoke. The rest of the day he’d spend downstairs on the couch watching television, or upstairs sleeping.

I had more than enough freedom to live my seperate life.

With Harry—my fiancee.

And now? My bank account reaches thirdy-million dollars, with checks still arriving….

I think I’ll buy white roses next time.

Real ones.

After all—patience really _does_ pay off.

May he rest in peace.