The day my family of five was knocked into a bloody mist, I was still holding on to the amusement park tickets. The court said that the murderer was "mentally insane" and the compensation was only 500,000 divided over 20 years. I stood at the door of the court holding four boxes of ashes, and the security guard scolded me, "Don't block it, it will affect my image." Later, I became the plastic surgeon for the unknown corpse, using the identity of the dead person to give him a new face. I made my enemy's mother "accidentally" fall to death while washing her car, let his mistress's photo fly into the hands of my wife, and watched her rush off the cliff. I eavesdropped on the video of him bribing doctors to forge mental illness certificates, and let the whole Internet watch him change from a "victim" to a "scumbag." Until that day, I carefully forged a corpse for his daughter and taught her how to fake her death. Before cremation, I whispered in front of the cremator: "Remember, let him press the button with his own hands." She nodded, turned and walked towards the morgue. And I, in the mirror, saw her standing behind me, looking at me quietly.
Very well written! Come on author!