Lydia Marie Hazelwich, legendary actress from the Golden Age of Hollywood, died this past Saturday at her estate in Rosewood Hills, California, at age 72. Her funeral was held at Whitewood Church, where Ms. Hazelwich had been a devout member since she was 5 years old. Lydia Hazelwich was born in 19 in Indiana, Texas, to Frank and Martha Hazelwich. At 18, she rose to fame through her acting in "All's Fair in Love and Money," and, at 21, shocked the world by marrying Martin Lindon, a millionaire over 50 years her senior. They lived happily for 3 years before he passed away due to a heart condition, leaving his fortune to his young bride. Soon after, she remarried, this time to one of Mr. London's business associates, John Davis, who had just passed his 70th birthday. Lydia's bad luck continued, with her second husband passing 5 years after they married. This pattern continued as she gained fame for her Hollywood career and her personal life. At age 40, she had been married 6 times, each to a husband many years her senior and each time with the husband dying only a few years after they were married. Some speculate that she killed her husbands using some sort of poison or sedative, since each man left her his fortune when he died, but she denied all rumors, stating "I loved each of them, and I would never hurt a fly, much less kill anyone." At age 65, Ms. Hazelwich surprised the public again when she announced her engagement to up-and-coming actor, 20-year-old Peter Hutcher. She told the press, "I had given up on love, but Peter showed me that you're never too old to find someone." They were married the next year, and lived happily. Mr. Hutcher declined to make a public appearance, but he asks for condolences to be sent to his office in Los Angeles.

Peter Hutcher sat at his breakfast table, dressed for the day in an all-black suit. He knew what the public expected of him, and he planned to give it to them. He re-read the obituary, and thought back to her last night.

"Now Peter dear, do you know the plan?" She had asked him, her voice serious but her eyes sparkling. As she laid in her canopy bed, the color of her face matched the white of her cheeks. He knew that she didn't have much time left.

"I do," he responded, clasping her hand. Though they had never loved each other romantically, he had grown fond of the once-great actress, and was saddened by her plan. However, he had promised, and he kept his promises.

"Well then, let's get to it," she ordered him, matter-of-factly.

And he did. He made sure that the staff brought them their typical dinner. She made of show of eating, but he could see she wasn't hungry. They went to bed at their normal time, with him giving her a kiss on the cheek then heading to his room. Everything a farce, just like the rest of her life.

When Lydia had told him about her exploits, he had at first been shocked.

"How did you get away with it?" He asked with an almost morbid fascination. "Killing 6 men in a row?"

"Well darling," she explained. "It wasn't just me, and really it wasn't killing them. My first husband Martin, bless his heart, was in terrible health when I met him. He and his friends, my later men, had made a pact when they were younger. They weren't going to let themselves grow old and weak and useless. They wanted to be in control of their lives til the very end. So, they enlisted me. None of them had heirs, and they didn't care about the money anyway, so they chose me from a line up of up-and-comers, just like I chose you."

Like I chose you.

She said it so casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence to choose the person who kills you.

After midnight, when he was sure that the staff had either gone home or gone to bed, he stole softly to her room. She lay there, blue eyes sparkling, as if she had just remembered an inside joke with Peter.

He sat next to her, just for a moment. "Are you sure?" He asked one last time.

"Darling, I'm always sure." She smiled, more to reassure him than to show fear. She had no fear, he realized.

Resigned, he stood and went to the wall by her bed, opening the hidden cabinet and pulling out bottles of all sizes and shapes, all labeled in tiny letters. One by one, he gave them to her, measuring them out carefully. He placed them on her bedside table by her nightly glass of water, and looked at her one more time. Even with the cancer taking over her, she was still beautiful.

"I'll miss you, friend," he said.

She smiled one last time. "See you on the other side." Then she took the pills in her hand, closed her eyes, and swallowed.

The drugs were designed to hide in her system, so no one would find evidence of foul play. It was the perfect crime, if that's even what it was called.

Peter didn't know if Lydia's story was true. It was so unbelievable that it just might be. But it didn't matter anymore. What matter was keeping up appearances for the public, just like she did for so many years. He needed to make sure that the public gave a proper farewell to the one and only Lydia Hazelwich.

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Thanks to its_bucky_barnes for giving me the idea for this story!
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