I can't tell you how much it means to me that of all your wives, I was the one you let live. I was heartbroken, three years ago, when after leaving your first wife, you decided to move on from me to your third wife. But I couldn't help but feel, even through my desperation, that you still felt a little something for me. My friends and family told me that I was a fool, that you were nothing but a callous cad with a skill for making all the squirrels in the neighborhood stay away. But still, I held out hope.
Your grand display of affection wasn't immediately visible to me when your first wife went missing, but when the papers reported the mysterious death of your third wife, it became stark clear when the reporters showed up at my house--you loved ME the MOST.
You had told during our divorce proceedings that you could kill me if you wanted to, and to make it look like an accident, but I think we both knew that you didn't really mean it. You lips said "murder" but your heart said "don't murder."
And now here we are. I had always hoped and prayed that God would would give me a sign that I wasn't just one in a crowd to you, that I wasn't just another disposable wife. And either because of the .45 I bought on our honeymoon or the fact that my brother is in the mob or most likely because of that special chemistry between us, I know now, and not just in a woman's fool's paradise, that I really was the one!
Oh, I know we're still waiting for your first wife to show her face and admit to the world that you didn't actually murder her so you can be exonerated in re your third wife's death. But can I tell you a secret? I'd be fine if she never showed up again, in any form, whether standing in front of us or emerging from a crawlspace in a burlap bag. It's just the two of us now, baby, and nothing will ever tear us apart again. And if she does, I won't be concerned. She should be concerned, but not me.
I love you darling. Thank you again for showing me how much I mean to you.