After My Prison Release, I Was Already Dying

But if she implicated Kirsten, it would bring back the murder case from years ago.

And when that happened, Phil’s true identity would also be exposed.

Everything she had worked to conceal all these years would be for nothing.

Tricia lowered her gaze, her voice calm and detached. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just a coincidence. You know how those big trucks are—they have high insurance payouts. If they kill someone, they can claim insurance. But if the person survives, they have to pay out of pocket.”

Officer Blake considered this and nodded. “That’s possible.” He sighed and advised her to take care of her injuries.

“It’s just a scratch,” Tricia said, shaking her head. “Nothing serious. I’ll be back at the club tonight.”

She didn’t know how much time she had left.

But however long that was, she intended to make use of it.

That night, she took her medical records to Mike, explaining why she had failed her task earlier.

“Manager Mike, I have stomach cancer. I won’t live much longer. I just want to save enough to buy myself a decent burial plot. If there’s any way to make quick money, please help me.”

Mike called the hospital to confirm her diagnosis. Then he decided to keep her.

A woman fresh out of prison, riddled with a terminal illness—what a waste it would be not to use her.

People like her were the easiest to control.

So he gave Tricia a small job.

With Officer Blake’s help, she completed it flawlessly.

Her efficiency earned Mike’s trust.

Finally, the day arrived for their most important operation.

This time, the deal would take place at the extravagant wedding of a wealthy heir in the neighboring city.

The event required an enormous shipment of flowers. The drugs would be hidden among them.

Even the elusive drug lord himself was expected to make an appearance.

Tricia passed the intel to Officer Blake, coordinating the plan to take them down in one decisive strike.

But she never expected to see Phil there.

“Tricia,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Didn’t I tell you never to show your face in front of me again?”

He hadn’t expected to run into her—not here, not now.

Tricia’s heart clenched.

She had to get him out of here. If anything went wrong, Phil would be caught in the crossfire.

“I needed money,” she said, feigning indifference. “A sponsor paid me to attend this wedding. It has nothing to do with you. If you hate me so much, then leave. That way, you won’t have to see someone as ‘vicious and disgusting’ as me.”

She deliberately provoked him.

“Or,” she sneered, “do you secretly miss me? Following me everywhere I go?”

Phil’s face darkened. “Tricia, don’t flatter yourself. Just looking at you makes me sick. If I’d known you’d be here, I wouldn’t have set foot in Seattle.”

With that, he threw his gift aside and turned to leave.

Tricia exhaled in relief.

But deep inside, her chest ached.

If this was their last meeting, would it really have to end like this?

Not a single kind word.

Not even one good memory to hold onto.

Then, chaos erupted.

Sirens wailed.

A swarm of police officers stormed the wedding venue.

Panic spread like wildfire.

“Why are the cops here?!” someone shouted.

Mike bolted.

Tricia chased after him, trying to hold him down before he could escape.

“You damn bitch,” he spat, kicking her viciously. “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

She refused to let go.

Mike’s face twisted in fury. He turned to his men and barked, “Kill her. We’re not getting out of here anyway—we might as well take her down with us.”

A group of thugs surged forward, their faces twisted with rage.

Everything at the wedding—tables, cutlery, bottles—became their weapons.

A knife and fork pierced through Tricia’s hand. A lit cigarette seared into her back. A wine bottle shattered against her ribs.

Pain swallowed her whole.

But she didn’t beg for mercy.

She had expected this.

She had always known this day would come.

The only regret—

Her last words to Phil had been so cruel.

She wished she could take them back.

She didn’t know how long it lasted.

At some point, snow began to fall.

Tiny flakes, fine as salt, drifted down from the sky.

A thin layer of frost settled on her lashes.

Phil’s face flickered through her fading consciousness.

With the last of her strength, she traced a string of numbers into the snow.

Before everything went black, she heard the police rushing in—

Heard Officer Blake’s voice, shouting for her to hold on.

Her lips trembled, forming the final words of her life:

“Don’t… tell Phil.”