I was dying of colon cancer in a hospice, all my $150,000 savings for retirement and my son, Ethan, almost gone.
Ethan cried, telling me his girlfriend, Chloe, stole every penny for a luxury condo. I believed him completely.
My hatred for that "gold-digger" burned hotter than my cancer. In my final hours, I called the police, determined to ruin Chloe for letting me die disgraced.
I died filled with pure, unadulterated hate.
My last thought was of her painful demise. How could she betray a dying woman so cruelly? The injustice was unbearable.