The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise

my lungs, a cold that seeped into my bones. I j

plain. I was in my luxurious Boston apartme

smile on his handsome face. His mother, a woman whose ever

need you to sign these papers," Mrs. Scott sa

ur shared assets before the wedding. A formality. I have a once-in-

with a chilling, absolute clarity. I recognized this

ty d

hirty days before "

reatures that hunted by sound clawed their way out of the

in tears, refusing to sign, feeling betrayed. T

pushing me off a boat to create a loud splash that would d

ho encouraged him to use me for my

ed up

said, my v

didn't argue. I just signed the papers, one by one, gi

nto smug satisfaction. "See, Mot

apers back towards hi

rotect my family. And watch my ene

luable family heirlooms, things my mother had given me. Then, as Matthew and

out his driver's license, a

the door without

o me. All I could hear was the future silence. I got into my

ed. Not the shared assets, not the real estate dea

ive, brilliant engineer who had been

. Army Ranger who died a hero in my last li

d my father had built, a self-sufficien

. The clock

hey were celebrating their future wealth, buil

th

face. Let them celebrate their meaningless paper

y would