Historias cortas de Plot Twists y novelas con Bias ambientadas en Fake Death

I was the lowest-ranked Omega in the Moen pack. However, my fiancé Silas Moen was the Alpha who stood above us all. I thought the bond the Moon Goddess had made between us could never be shaken. That certainty lasted until his long-lost childhood sweetheart returned. Brynn, the flawless, highborn werewolf with an ancient bloodline. In front of my parents and brothers, before more than a thousand members of our pack, he made his announcement. "I, Silas Moen, as Alpha, reject you. "Brynn and I were promised to each other long ago. She's back now, and you should step aside for her." The instant he finished, something inside my chest ripped apart. I collapsed onto my knees on the altar's frozen stone and tried to scramble toward him to demand an explanation. Nobody in that silent crowd stepped forward. My father looked away and said coldly, "Brynn has already suffered for years out there. You shouldn't fight her over this." My eldest brother, Rian Valentine, blocked my way. "Talia, it's time you saw yourself clearly. You're no match for Brynn. "If you insist on opposing this mating, I'll sever our family ties." The System detected that Silas's affection level for me had fallen to zero and activated automatically. [Talia, this assignment has failed. Your heart is predicted to stop in ten days, after which a new body will be created for you. Do you confirm that you wish to abandon this assignment?] Even as I lay facedown in the frozen mud, I couldn't help laughing. Failed? No. I could finally leave. I had no strength left to love, but death would set me free.

News of my groom's death arrived, but I shed no tears. Instead, I quickly reclaimed his shares and had his death officially recorded. Why? I was reborn. In my previous life, my family had adopted three boys to accompany me since childhood, all of whom were potential candidates to be my husband. As the heiress of the wealthiest family in the country, my father feared I wouldn't be happy marrying someone else we weren't familiar with. I chose Jayden, the most capable of the three brothers—but just three days after the wedding, he passed away. In my grief, I gave up on remarriage. With Jesse and Joel's persuasion, I lived the rest of my life as a widow. Upon reaching eighty, I went to Massalia, where we once pledged our love. There, I encountered Jayden…who had supposedly died sixty years ago! He was living with my maid, who had gone missing decades ago, surrounded by children and grandchildren, living a happy and contented life. When I realized I had been deceived my whole life, I was so enraged that my vision suddenly darkened. I died of a brain hemorrhage on the spot. When I awoke, I had returned to the day the news of his death had arrived. Let's see how a man who should have died intended to continue living!

At the royal banquet, Empress Phoebe Beaufort decides to dismiss all her male consorts for the sake of her beloved, the male protagonist, Caelum Talbot. While everyone else accepts a sum of money and returns home to reunite with their families, I have nowhere to go. Thus, I find a white silk sash and hang myself at the entrance to the abandoned palace. Having been transmigrated into this world at birth, I've spent 21 years attempting to win the hearts of its four female leads. Now, I've failed with the last one as well. My system tells me that as soon as I die, I can return home and reunite with my family. Yet, right before my consciousness begins to fade, I think I hear someone screaming my name in utter despair.

My husband forced me into labor the same day his widowed sister-in-law went into labor. I was only seven months pregnant when he dragged me to the hospital and demanded that the doctors induce me. Eugene Cobb locked me inside the delivery room, his expression tense and urgent. "The baby Fiona's carrying has a rare disease. The doctors say he'll die as soon as he's born. They need umbilical cord blood and special stem cells during delivery to save him! My brother's already gone. It's my responsibility to take care of her and her child." A four-inch-long induction needle pierced into my body. Violent contractions crashed through me, cold sweat soaking my back. I said weakly, "Fiona's pregnancy has been perfectly healthy. How could the baby suddenly have a rare disease? And my pregnancy is high-risk. The doctor said I need to carry to term. If you force an early birth, you'll kill both our baby and me!" Eugene frowned slightly and pinned me firmly to the hospital bed. "The doctor already explained everything. The baby just needs to be born two months early. Nothing will happen." As Fiona Smith's screams rang out from the delivery room next door, something seemed to occur to him. "You're not trying to get rid of Fiona because I've been taking care of her all the time, are you? I told you a long time ago I'm only helping her because she's my sister-in-law. How can you be so vicious?" I stared at the blood spreading beneath me and begged through tears. As long as he spared the child, I was willing to divorce him and give them my place. Eugene's eyes filled with impatience. "What are you talking about? I'm the baby's father. Why would I harm my own child?" My umbilical cord blood and stem cells were finally used on Fiona's baby. Both mother and child were declared safe. Only then did Eugene finally remember us. But when he arrived at the hospital room, the only thing waiting for him was an empty bed.

I knew my husband, Josh Perkins, had faked his death and taken on his younger twin brother's identity—but I never said a word. Instead, I went straight to the commander of the military district and filed an official report of my husband's death, requesting his name be permanently removed from the service rolls. In my last life, my brother-in-law died in an accident. Josh gave up his rank as regimental commander, abandoned his own name, and stepped into his brother's shoes—all to spare his fragile sister-in-law from becoming a widow. Back then, I recognized him immediately. I confronted him and demanded to know why he was pretending to be a dead man. But Josh just looked through me, cold as a winter morning. "Riley, I know you're grieving Josh. But I'm not him. Don't mistake me for my brother." He shielded that delicate sister-in-law of his behind him, then shoved me into the icy river and warned me not to harbor delusions. Later, our five-year-old daughter cried, asking why her daddy didn't want her anymore. For that, she was dragged to the cowshed for "reflection"—left there, starving, for three days and nights. My mother-in-law called me a curse, a jinx who'd killed her son, and threw my daughter and me out with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Josh made sure everyone knew I'd "gone mad"—that I was lusting after my brother-in-law before my husband was even cold in the ground. The whole town turned their backs on us. That last winter, I wandered the streets with my girl, dazed and numb, until the cold finally took us both. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day Josh buried his old life and stole his brother's.

As the only daughter and sole heir of the Romano family, I was born into a world of blood and gunfire. To protect me, my father handpicked nine boys from our allied families and raised them to take a bullet for me When I came of age, he told me to choose one of them as my fiancé. The man I chose would be groomed to become the future Don and rule beside me. I chose Luca De Santis, the man I had loved for years. But on our wedding day, his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Ricci, threw herself into the sea. In the suicide note she left behind, she accused me of tormenting her for years. Luca believed every word. After he became Don, he used the power my family had placed in his hands to imprison me while I was pregnant. I told him that every accusation in Bianca's letter was a lie. He refused to listen. "She's already dead, and you still can't leave her alone?" Then he locked me in the estate basement for four days and four nights. On the fourth night, I lost our baby on the basement floor. I screamed for help until I had no strength left. No one came. I bled to death alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my father's study on the day he asked me to choose my future husband. This time, Luca De Santis was the first name I crossed off the list.

Taking his place on the throne, the King crowned his golden girl his queen. I, on the other hand, was granted two choices—retire from court with a hefty fortune or be his kept mistress in the dark. Choosing neither, I hung myself on the clothesline right outside the laundress quarters. I had been sent back twenty years in time, tasked by the System to conquer four targets. I’d just blown the last target and my final chance to complete the quest. The System notified me that following the death of my flesh, my consciousness would return to the modern world, back to the arms of my family. Just as I closed my eyes, the desperate cries of my name caught my attention.

When the Kane brothers turned eighteen, my father asked my adopted sister, Bianca, and me to choose one of them as our personal guard. Their father had died protecting mine, and my family had raised them inside the Moretti estate ever since. Gabriel chose Bianca. I was left with Julian—a silent, deeply traumatized boy everyone believed had lost his voice in the shooting that killed his parents. For seven years, I took him to specialists, learned sign language, and trained to protect myself because I didn't want my family to cast him out for being unable to speak. Then our yacht sank. Julian tore the last survival suit from my body and gave it to Bianca. As I drowned, he spoke to me for the first time. "I'm sorry, Elena. I want Bianca to live. If we have another life, I'll repay the one I owe you." When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day we chose our guards. But this time, I would never choose him again.

On the day the country's most notorious serial killer, Henry Luther, is scheduled for execution, I personally escort him to the death chamber. Just before his sentence is carried out, he suddenly looks at me with pity. "The truth is, I only killed 17 people. I deserve to die, but you can't blame me for what happened to your medical examiner husband." The moment he mentions Victor Ashford, all my hatred comes rushing back. Three years ago, Victor served as the city's chief medical examiner. While protecting a crucial piece of evidence, he was stabbed dozens of times by Henry. I rushed back from another city overnight, only to find Victor's body mutilated beyond recognition. Overcome with grief, I began hemorrhaging and lost our baby when I was three months pregnant. For the next three years, I repeatedly risk my life hunting down Henry, determined to capture him myself and avenge Victor. Following an address Henry left behind, I track down a modest house. The moment I step into the yard, however, I freeze. Victor is standing there with his arms around his younger colleague, Colette Jennings, kissing her tenderly. Nearby, a two-or-three-year-old child sits on a swing. My mind goes blank. Just as I start toward them, someone grabs me from behind. It's my mentor, George Ryland. "Victor's happy now. For your own sake, let him go." I shove him aside and fire three shots into an empty patch of ground, my expression completely blank. "Victor Ashford, you're under arrest for suspected of bigamy. Come with me."

Eight months pregnant, I went into labor at the exact same time as my husband Jason's sister-in-law after a fall. But Jason thought I was trying to fight for the family inheritance. "Janet, I told you the family has already accepted Rachel's child as the future heir of the Martinez family. I never expected you'd go this far—hurting yourself—just for the so-called birthright. I'm so disappointed in you." According to family rules, the first child born into the Martinez family is the future heir, inheriting everything. They thought that because I married in as an "ordinary" woman, I would covet that inheritance. But that crown? It wasn't worthy of my child. What I never expected was that, the moment Jason walked out, his sister Ashley would deliberately inject me with a drug to stall my labor. "Janet, Rachel's child is the one who should inherit this family. Your baby? He doesn't qualify." "Don't worry. Once Rachel's baby is safely delivered, I'll make sure you're well taken care of." With that, she turned and left me alone in that empty, godforsaken room. The pain was unbearable. I fought with everything I had to protect my baby. I screamed for help, but no one answered. In the end, I pressed the signal button my father had given me. Dad—please, save me and my baby.

After a car accident leaves my older brother, Cedric Horton, fighting for his life, he asks to see me. The sight of his bloodless face sends me into tears, and I swear that I'll take good care of his newborn baby, only for Cedric to shake his head. "You won't have to. Benjamin, the baby is Helena's." For a moment, the world falls silent. My wife, Helena Grant, steps forward and clasps Cedric's hand. Her eyes are red as she drops to her knees before me. "We kept it from you because we never wanted to hurt you. Now that Cedric is dying, all he asks is that you give us your blessing." Still numb, I pick up a pen and sign the divorce papers. Three days later, I bury Cedric myself beneath a headstone that identifies him as the beloved husband of Helena Grant. Mom and Dad are so furious that they disown him. They refuse to recognize his child as family, choosing instead to devote all their time to staying by my side. Yet, five years pass, and my depression worsens. On the day I plan to end my life, I take a bottle of Cedric's favorite liquor to his grave. Instead, I find him standing there, very much alive, holding Helena's hand with his left while carrying a little boy in his right arm. Mom and Dad stand beside them, their eyes filled with concern. "We never would've asked you to fake your death for five years if we weren't afraid Benjamin might hurt all three of you. "He's doing so badly now that he constantly gets his memories mixed up. When we get back, we'll convince him you and Helena were married all along. Then, the three of you can finally stop hiding and live as a family." The bottle hits the ground and shatters, the liquor disappearing into the earth. I pull out my phone and change Helena's contact name to "Mrs. Cedric Horton". They don't need to lie to me anymore, because I'll give them exactly what they want.

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, Steven sped through the city to take me to an underground clinic. Halfway there, the encrypted communicator rang again. Julie's voice came through the speaker. "Steven, it's raining. I forgot my umbrella. Can you come pick me up?" The car fell silent. I said nothing. I pulled a black umbrella from the hidden compartment, shoved it into his arms, unlocked the passenger door, and gestured for him to pull over. Steven looked at my pale face. The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly. For once, he seemed reluctant. I opened the door and was immediately drenched by the rain. I turned around and said one last thing. "Just make sure she transfers the money on time." Even on our daughter Nora Graham's birthday, Julie's call hit right on schedule. "Steven, can you come with me to a kennel event tomorrow? All the family representatives are bringing dates. If I show up alone, I'll seem inadequate." Steven gripped the communicator and hesitated as he glanced at our daughter, who was placing candles on her birthday cake. Without even looking up, Nora picked up a piece of cake with her fork and said, "Dad, make sure that lady pays. Since it's a special occasion today, charge double."

Today was the seventh anniversary of the plane crash that took my twin sister, Chloe. My husband, Julian, checked the watch on his wrist and urged me on. “I’ve only blocked off ten minutes for this visit. Hurry up and lay the flowers.” He was a pathological stickler for time, meticulously managing every minute and second of his life. Shopping was sixty minutes, intimacy was fifteen minutes, and dinner was ten minutes… As he walked back to the car to grab an umbrella, his phone slipped from his hand, hit the ground, and lit up with a cloud calendar notification. It was his hidden master schedule for family. I stole a glance at it, and my blood instantly ran cold. The entry for me read, “Spend two hours.” And the very next entry ten minutes later read, “Cemetery visit ends. Head to the Southside residence immediately to pick up Chloe and our son for his toddler’s gym class.” I stared at my sister’s photo on the tombstone, finding it all ironic. So the past seven years, spent racing against the clock, were nothing more than an extreme time-management strategy Julian had devised for her while she was pretending to be dead. Julian walked back over under the umbrella. He picked up his phone and frowned. “Riley, your ten minutes are up. Stop dawdling.” Wiping the rainwater from the tombstone, I let out a liberated smile and said, “I'm not dawdling. It just struck me that Chloe must be having a wonderful time in hell. With the Devil and his demons keeping her company, I’m sure she’d never want to leave.”

Lucien Arden took the throne. He crowned Rosalind Hartwell empress. And Evelyn Hartwell—the principal wife who had fought at his side all the way from embattled prince to emperor—was given only the rank of Imperial Consort. The day the decree came down, Silverleaf Palace was completely silent. Every servant kept their head lowered and hardly dared to breathe, afraid that Evelyn would weep, or throw things, or come apart the way any consort does when the emperor's favor leaves her. Evelyn simply accepted the decree, calmly. “I thank His Majesty for his generosity.” There was no movement in her voice and nothing in her face. Even her beautiful eyes held not the slightest trace of grief. She turned, went back into the inner rooms, and picked up her book where she had left it. As though the decree that had just stripped her of her place as his principal wife had nothing whatever to do with her.

The morning after my wedding, my wife disappeared. I gave up my right to inherit the family business without any hesitation. I even sold my shares in the company I had built myself. After eight years together with three years of a long-distance relationship, we finally exchanged rings yesterday in front of our family and friends. But when I woke up, the ring was gone! My wife was gone too! I searched for her like a maniac, and everyone said no one named Sophia Wellington existed. They said I had lost my mind! I won't believe that! I had held a wedding with her at the hotel just yesterday! I rushed back to the hotel and found the lobby manager, but he said, "Mr. Leon Gomez, you checked in alone. Besides, the banquet hall on the second floor was under renovation yesterday. We didn't host any weddings. Are you sure you… Weren't dreaming?"

Three years ago, during a brutal war with a rival family, my fiancé Warren took a bullet for me. To protect me, he dragged the enemy down a cliff with him. I never found his body—only his blood-soaked suit. On the day of his funeral, I stood in the pouring rain all night, swearing to make our enemies pay in blood. Three years later, I had wiped out every mafia family on the West Coast, becoming the cold-blooded, ruthless Donna everyone feared. On the anniversary of Warren's death, I took my gun to the cliff where he fell. "Warren, I can finally come see you." "Living without you... it's been hell." Just as I pressed the barrel to my temple, the bells of a nearby chapel rang. To my surprise, I saw my top Capos walking inside. Frowning, I quietly followed them in. But standing at the altar, saying his vows, was my "dead" fiancé, Warren. And the woman snuggled in his arms was my own sister, Chloe. Right as the guests erupted in cheers, they shared a deep, passionate kiss. I froze, my blood running cold.

I was just a student who couldn't afford tuition. For five years, I was also the secret lover of Mafia Don Dante Costello. Publicly, I was his personal art restorer. In private, he spent his nights making me his, holding me close and kissing me breathless. Then his family arranged his engagement. To Isabella Rossi. A princess from a rival family. At their engagement party, Isabella stabbed the back of my hand with a shard of broken glass. He made me apologize. To her. For making a scene. Fighting back tears, I bowed my head to Isabella. When Isabella lost a bet and had to play Russian Roulette—one bullet, six chambers—he made me take her place. My hand shook as I raised the gun to my head. "You saved my life once," I told him. "Now you can have it back." The moment I vanished from his world, the ruthless Mafia Don who had everything under control...completely lost his mind.

After a difficult labor took the life of my first son, I spent another three years undergoing IVF before finally giving my husband, Caspian Wyndham, a daughter. Unable to resist, I sent Caspian a photo of our daughter while he was still on his way back to us. But I had barely put down my phone when a livestream notification popped up. "Teaching My Fellow Girls How to Become Mothers Pain-Free, Live!" The blogger never showed her face, but her voice was unnaturally gleeful. "Six years ago, I personally created a new identity for my boyfriend and sent him off to save a depressed heiress. "Once they got fake-married and had a son, we planned to stage complications during labor, then have him hand the baby over to me to raise. "My boyfriend pulled it off, and he even married me afterward. The only mistake he made was being too softhearted. Before he walked away, he insisted on leaving the heiress something to remember him by. "That woman is such an idiot. She had no idea that my husband's name and identity were completely fabricated, and she even went through IVF just to have his child." I subconsciously gripped my phone tighter. Viewers who had gone through similar heartbreak flooded the livestream with furious comments, but the blogger only grew more brazen. "Her two biological brothers were involved in this too. Even if I were a fake heiress, they'd still take my side. "Luckily, the true heiress gave birth today, and my husband has decided to fake his death and come back to our family." Still giggling, she held up another phone and displayed a photograph. "Look at this baby. She's barely been born, and she's already lost her father. Poor thing!" My breath hitched. It was the exact photograph I had sent Caspian moments earlier. Just then, my phone rang. I answered with trembling fingers, and my eldest brother's detached voice came from the other end. "Caspian was on his way back to see you when he got into a car accident. The car exploded, and there's nothing left of him."

On Graduation night, the love of my life, Julian, took three stab wounds meant for me. Gang members dumped his body into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. I gave up my spot at Columbia Law School and went on pilgrimages to churches across the country. I did penance for my sins. For ten whole years. Until a decade later, when the news broke that Julian was taking over as the Don of the Falcone family. I finally realized he wasn't dead. And the glamorous Donna standing beside him was my best friend, Scarlett. Back at his funeral, Scarlett had cried to me, "If you really feel guilty about Julian, drop out of school and walk to churches across the country to pray. It's the blood debt you owe him." Seeing her again now, her eyes were red as she played the victim. "I just loved him too much. When he lost his memory ten years ago... I had to take him for myself and lie to you that he died." Julian, the man who was supposed to love me more than life itself, shielded Scarlett behind his back. He looked at me like a total stranger. It turned out my last ten years were nothing but a joke. I had a heart attack and died in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at Julian's ridiculous funeral. He asked me, "Who are you?" I replied calmly, "Just an ordinary friend you saved." This time, I was done with this love triangle. I wanted nothing to do with them. I was going to chase my dream, go to Columbia Law School, and claim the man I let slip away for ten years—Don Cassian. But later, when Julian finally got his memory back, he begged me like a madman to return.

Five years married to Marcello, and I find out he's no street punk. He's the Don. The head of New York's McCarthy family. While I was pinching every penny, he was dropping millions at auction, buying a fortune in diamonds for Camilla, his dead best friend's widow. He even took the baby I nearly died giving birth to. Gave him to Camilla. He stroked my hair, his voice soft and cruel. "Camilla and I, we grew up together. She was carrying Ethan's kid. If she knew her baby died... she couldn't take it." "We'll have other kids," he said. I said no. So he threatened my family. I gave in. But I made a promise to myself: I was leaving this man. I secretly signed the papers to be a combat medic. I ship out in seven days.