Becky was dying. Her husband, Jake, standing vigil at her side, held her fragile hand, the tears running down his face. Becky roused slightly. She looked up and said, "My darling Jake..." she started.
"Hush, Becky," he said. "Just rest, don't talk."
She insisted. "Jake," she said weakly, "I... I have something I must confess...."
"No need, Becky," replied Jake, "Everything is all right now. Just go to sleep."
"No, Jake, no. I want to pass in peace. Jake, I slept with your brother, and his best friend, and your best friend, your uncle, and even your father!"
"I know," Jake whispered. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"
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