Your Millions Bought My Grave

Late-stage bone cancer. The oncologist asked if I wanted to go through with the amputation.

My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated, staring at my phone screen for what felt like an eternity, before finally sending a message to my wife, Norma.

The amputation will buy me another year. Do you want me to do it?

Just a minute before they were scheduled to wheel me into the operating room, my phone finally buzzed in my palm.

Wishing you prosperity and wealth.

It was a digital red envelope. Just like every single response she had sent to my messages over the past three years.