After Elizabeth’s fatal crash, I was left alone to raise our daughters, Sophie and Emma. I was drowning in grief when a mysterious old woman at the funeral whispered, “Elizabeth won’t rest until justice is served.”

I brushed her off—until I found car rental receipts among Elizabeth’s things. We had two cars. Why rent one?

Her friend Sarah said both our cars were in the shop. Elizabeth rented one for a surprise beach trip. But it was returned by her sister, Karen. Why?

I told the police. They investigated.

The brakes had been tampered with.

Karen had forged Elizabeth’s signature on a life insurance policy. Greed led her to murder her own sister.

She was arrested and sentenced to life. It didn’t bring Elizabeth back, but the truth brought peace.

Weeks later, at her grave, a butterfly landed on her headstone. I knew it was her, finally at rest.

I never saw the fortune-teller again.

But her words were right.

Elizabeth’s spirit wouldn’t rest—not until justice was served.

And that $20?

It changed everything.