What Did The Xxxtentacion Cause Of Death Report Reveal?

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

When Joy Staton, my adoptive sister, fainted in the freezer on her birthday, William Staton, my brother, checked on the security footage in rage. The moment he saw that I was the one who took Joy into the freezer, he kicked me inside without hesitation. Before shutting the door, he stared at me in disgust. “You’ve been pushing your luck a lot these days, huh? If I’d been a second too late, Joy would’ve died!” I wanted to defend myself, but William refused to listen and slammed the door shut. I heard him talking to the bodyguards outside. “If she doesn’t apologize, don’t let her out!” But he did not know that Joy had set the freezer to –58 °F. I did not even have the strength to complain about the freezer being cold. William did not know that the sister he once loved dearly had stopped breathing in the freezer. He had killed his only blood relative left in the world.

After my husband picked up his secretary and our son, they went into the hotel for a business meeting. Photos of them were trending online. I gave him a call to ask him about it, but he hung up on me impatiently. “I’m meeting a client. Obviously, we’re meeting at the hotel! Can you stop being unreasonable?” I was busy contacting IT support to retract the trending topics. Two hours later, I received a call from the emergency department of the hospital. When I reached the hospital, my son was already dead. In his hand, he was still holding a staff ID tag. The secretary’s name was on the tag. I broke down crying. My husband, Zac Davis, had blocked my number so I could not reach him. After I completed the hospital procedures, Zac finally returned my call. He sounded very angry and impatient, “Did you fetch our son? Why didn’t you inform me? Don’t you know that we’re all waiting for him to pass us the agreement? Just send the document over now!” After that, he immediately hung up and blocked my number again. I stared at the notification on my phone and sneered. I was going to snatch your clients and force you into a dead end!

I used to live my life believing that there was something corrupted within me. I had never felt comfortable walking in the searing, bright daylight. It felt as if I didn't belong there. Is that why I felt this sudden attraction to a man who seemed to be the embodiment of darkness? Ashtar Malachious resembled the sum of my sexual fantasies. The shades surrounding him were like a captivating essence. Others called him the predator, the fallen, or the death. I knew that, but my eyes saw him differently. He saved my life in more than a literal way. He seduced me, slowly enticing all my senses. He showed me what a touch could feel like. He let me taste the pleasure I had never thought existed. The one thing he wanted from me was my blood. I knew that if I gave it to him, it would be along with my body, heart, and soul. His irresistible aura blinded me to the dangers that surrounded me. Like a moth to the flame, I stepped closer until the hellfire licked my flesh. Then the wicked flames revealed the cruelest truth—this love kills. In the end, one of us will die.

In the fifth year after my death, Oliver Rypien, leader of the huge smuggling ring that has a notorious reputation domestically and internationally, finally gets arrested by the police. At the public trial court, Oliver can be seen wearing an inmate uniform, though his murderous look is etched on his scarred face. He even has the guts to hum a whimsical tune tauntingly, completely unrepentant. After hearing the prosecutor accusing him of killing 129 victims, Oliver suddenly snorts in laughter. "You're wrong. You're missing one more victim. The police officer named Victor Patton who came from the Customs Enforcement Unit? Yeah, he died at my hands as well." Everyone gasps in shock. A reporter is quick to rebuke Oliver. "Hang on, Victor is a mole working for your organization! After a bounty on him was posted, he had nowhere to run to, so he embezzled over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of national assets before fleeing overseas! Even now, he's still living his life scotfree abroad!" Oliver shook his head before letting out a cold chuckle. "Victor was a stubborn one. Even though I crippled him, he still managed to kill five of my men. How is it possible for him to be our mole? "After crippling him, I threw him into the concrete foundation of Joy Bridge. If you don't believe me, go ahead and dig through the foundation." Suddenly, Oliver lowers his tone. His smile becomes more malicious. "Speaking of which, we did have a mole who worked with us to kill ten police officers. But now, he's successfully washed his hands off his crimes and became a certain someone's husband. "Why don't you take a guess as to who that brainless, idiotic woman is?" Three minutes later, my ex-wife, Gabriella Campbell, also known as the Chief Commissioner of Police in Gakoli, receives a phone call from the court outside the office of a well-known OBGYN department. "Chief Campbell, please come to the court immediately. The defendant has something crucial to tell you in person."

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.