Death Inc.

Chapter 7

The suspension of Death Inc. YOU was supposed to be a reprieve, but instead, it felt like the beginning of the end. The investigation into Death Inc.'s practices was relentless, and the media's spotlight remained fixed on us. Each day brought new revelations and accusations, further tarnishing Dan's reputation and the company's legacy.

Dan's health continued to deteriorate; his once formidable presence now confined. The house, once filled with the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, now seemed like a gilded cage. I spent my days taking care of him.

The tension of the investigation seeped into every aspect of our lives. The calls from lawyers, the visits from investigators, and the endless stream of bad news were constant reminders of our fall from grace. Dan, despite his failing health, tried to maintain his composure, but I could see the toll it was taking on him.

One evening, as we sat in the dimly lit living room, I broached the subject that had been gnawing at me. "Dan, have you thought about what happens next? What if they shut us down completely?"

He looked at me, his eyes weary and filled with regret. "I have, Rach. And I've realized that maybe... maybe it's time to let go."

The admission was a shock. Dan had always been the relentless optimist, the one who never gave up. To hear him consider the end of Death Inc. was both heartbreaking and a relief.

"I just want us to be okay," I said, my voice trembling. "I want us to find peace, whatever that means."

He nodded, reaching out to take my hand. "I know. And I want that too. I've spent so much time fighting, I-"

"It's okay, babe. I love you," I said.

As the investigation continued, we faced more challenges. Former employees came forward with allegations of bribes and misconduct, and the public's opinion of Death Inc. grew increasingly negative. It seemed that every day brought a new scandal, a new reason for people to turn against us.

Amidst the turmoil, I found moments of solace in my volunteer work. Helping others gave me a sense of purpose, a way to atone for the moral compromises we had made. It was during one of these volunteer sessions that I met a young woman named Emily, whose story mirrored the struggles of so many affected by Death Inc.'s policies.

Emily's father had been a client of Death Inc., unable to afford the traditional services and forced to rely on Death Inc. YOU. The experience had left her traumatized, and she sought answers and closure. We talked for hours, sharing our stories and finding common ground in our pain.
"Mrs. Hastings," she said one day, her voice filled with a mix of anger and sorrow, "I don't blame you entirely. But you have to understand the impact your husband's company has had on people like us."

Her words hit me hard, a stark reminder of the real human cost of our decisions. "I know, Emily. And I'm so sorry. We never intended for this to happen. We wanted to help, but somewhere along the way, we lost sight of that."

Emily nodded, her expression softening. "I believe you. But there has to be accountability. People need to know that their lives matter."

She directed me to her support group with others like her so I may be an advocate for the victims.
The investigation eventually reached its climax. Death Inc. was ordered to cease all operations, and Dan faced potential criminal charges. The stress of the situation took a further toll on his health. Our home, once a symbol of our success, now felt like a monument to our failures.