Fake Death, Two Families: I Walked Away and Married Anew

"That's wonderful news. Mr. Gaslow has been fond of you for years. If you agree to marry him, he’ll be so overjoyed he probably won't sleep tonight."

Margaret Warren beamed at me. I nodded quietly, saying nothing. My eyes drifted to the stark scars circling my wrist, each one a reminder of how many times I had tried to die. The feeling inside me was impossible to name.

Margaret mistook my silence as hesitation. She squeezed my hand and spoke with earnest patience.

"Mia, the dead cannot return. Mr. Gaslow has waited for you all these years. That's devotion."

"I know, Margaret. I'm willing to marry Mr. Gaslow."

I forced a smile, agreeing without struggle.

The door curtain suddenly lifted. Alexander Foster stepped inside, his face dark.

"Mia, who are you planning to marry?"

He was still calling me Mia with that easy confidence. I found it absurd.

"Daniel, this is my business. It has nothing to do with you."

The moment I spoke, Alexander's expression shifted. He yanked Margaret away from me with a sudden, furious motion.

"You old hag, Alexander hasn't been gone long, and you already think you can push Mia toward another man. Don't you have any shame? Mia loves Alexander. She will never give herself to anyone else."

Margaret, believing he was Daniel Foster, tried to reason with him. "Daniel, Alexander has been gone for more than a year. Mia is only 25. Do you want her to live as a widow forever?"

"So what if she does? Mia loves Alexander. She's willing to stay faithful to him for life."

His words made me chuckle under my breath, a sound edged with frost.

Everyone understood how tragic it was for a 25-year-old woman to be widowed for life. What none of them knew was that my husband wasn't dead.

He was standing right in front of me, watching me silently. Watching me try to die again and again, like a fool.

When I was younger, I had sworn I would rather marry a stray dog than marry Alexander.

Alexander also fled to a remote desert for a research project just to avoid our arranged marriage.

But three years later, his grandmother fell gravely ill and wished to see him married before she passed. We had no choice but to honor the old engagement.

That wedding night, surprisingly, we had undeniable chemistry.

We stayed in each other's embrace until dawn, and after that, the strong, tireless man wanted me every single day. We became known as the most affectionate couple.

Then he left on a mission. His twin brother, Daniel, came back carrying a blood-stained watch and told me, voice hoarse, "Mia, Alexander's gone."

I had lost my mind. I tried to find Alexander's body until my mother-in-law, Anna Greyson, had to physically restrain me. I swallowed pills, slit my wrist, and threw myself into a river.

Six attempts, six rescues.

And in the end, all of it was a lie.

My supposedly dead, devoted husband stood right before my eyes. His calm expression gave nothing away.

I didn't expose him. I only nodded, handed Margaret a slip of paper, and asked her to leave.

On that paper was the date I had agreed to marry Charles Gaslow.

Three days from now. In three days, I would board the boat to the island and begin a new life.

Seeing me dismiss Margaret willingly, Alexander looked satisfied. He even brought me a bowl of beef stew and told me to take care of myself.

Later, as I packed my luggage that night, sounds drifted from the room next door. Rhythmic, breathless, rising and falling.

I was not an inexperienced woman. The moment I heard it, I knew exactly what was happening.