Bias Fake Death 단편 소설 & 소설

"Miss Elara, this confirms the arrangement for your 'staged death.' In two weeks, at the Luna coronation ceremony, your death will be staged." "You will fall into the rapids, and the cause will be poisoning by wolfsbane." When my Alpha mate, Aiden, abandoned me again for "urgent pack business," I found a rogue on the black market and signed the staged death agreement without a second thought. The entire werewolf world believed Alpha Aiden was madly in love with me. He certainly played the part, never forgetting to kiss my forehead every time he left. But only I knew that for the thirty-ninth time he kissed me, he had also spent the night lost in a drunken haze with that Omega model, Cassia. But none of that mattered anymore. A tainted Alpha, I was done with him. At the coronation he treasured most, I would ensure he received the most perfect corpse.

The day my adopted sister Xina was diagnosed with a rare blood disease, I was captured by rival pack hunters and taken across pack territories. In a hidden den beneath the mountains, I was chained like an omega during the day and subjected to endless humiliation. At night, they locked me in a moonless chamber and extracted my blood and bone marrow while I was conscious. By the time my pack found me, my body was broken beyond recognition, covered in bite marks, and infected with numerous diseases that even our supernatural healing couldn't combat. My mother, Alpha Serena, looked at me barely clinging to life, and howled so painfully she collapsed several times. My brother Ivan even traveled beyond our ancestral lands to find healers who could treat me. But in my half-conscious state, I accidentally overheard their conversation: "Mother, we captured Lisa just to save Xina, and let her be violated by so many rogues. Now we're taking one of her kidneys too—isn't that going to kill her?" Mother was silent for a long time, then choked up and said: "For Xina, I had no choice." "Besides, Lisa challenged Xina's rank all these years, made her severely depressed. This is just me atoning to Xina on her behalf." "It doesn't matter if she's been tainted. From now on, we'll keep her in the packhouse and take care of her. That'll count as compensation." As the silver blade sliced into my body, tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. A den with four wolves... was simply too crowded.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

I'm eight months pregnant, and I suddenly go into early labor. But my husband, Aldrich Lohan, locks me up in the basement and gives me a tocolytic injection to stop my labor instead. He does all these just to ensure that his sister-in-law's baby is born before mine, so that my child won't fight for the inheritance rights. "Anton saved my life," Aldrich says, referring to his elder brother. "But now, he's gone, succeeded only by the baby in Chrissy's womb. I must let her baby inherit all the rights. Chrissy lost everything, but you're still here, enjoying everything I'm giving you like you're entitled to them. So what if you compromise a little bit for her sake?" The contractions in my lower body are hurting more than I can bear. I'm on the verge of passing out as I grab on to the hem of his pants and beg, "I swear that I won't let my child claim his inheritance rights! Please, just send me to the hospital. My child will die otherwise!" However, Aldrich just kicks me aside. "Chrissy has been pregnant for nine months. How can you be giving birth in just eight months? How would I know whether or not you're just inducing birth on purpose? I don't care. I won't let anyone steal the inheritance rights from Chrissy's baby, even if there's just a minuscule percentage of it happening." In the end, Chrissy successfully gives birth to her child, and it's only after that that Aldrich finally remembers me in the basement. "Bring Kelsey to the hospital and make them bring out the best medical equipment to ensure the safe birth of my child." His personal assistant, Edgar Salome, shivers as he says, "But Mr. Lohan… Mrs. Lohan and her child have both died…"

The Shermans are the richest family in town, and both of the Sherman daughters are about to get married on the same day. I, the older of the two sisters, am about to marry Andrew Hammond, a wealthy scion and the man I've loved for many years now. Meanwhile, my younger sister, Celine Sherman, is set to marry the heir of the Wright family. The upcoming wedding fills me with joy and anticipation, but suddenly, Andrew disappears for three whole days. When I go to confront him about it, I end up overhearing a conversation between him and his friends. "On the wedding day in three days, you guys must ensure that the wedding cars are switched, so that it's Celine's car that comes to the Sherman residence instead. "That illegitimate son of the Wright family is a cold, heartless man. I can't let Celine suffer by marrying him!" "Relax," one of his friends replies. "We've made all the arrangements with the drivers and everything. But what about Joanna?" Brimming with confidence, Andrew declares, "The Sherman family has the Wright family's business by the throat, and everyone knows that Joanna is mine. There's no way the Wright family would dare to do anything to her. "When the time comes, I'll send Celine off and bring Joanna back for the wedding ceremony. I'm sure the Wrights won't dare to say a single word." The initial shock leaves me on the verge of a breakdown, but eventually, it morphs into the stillness of despair. In the end, I decide to go along with the plan, letting Andrew and Celine get their happy ending. Thus, when Andrew proceeds with the next part of his plan and arrives to pick me up, all he's greeted with is the sight of my cold dead body.

The yacht that my parents and my younger sister, Amanda Portman, were on exploded in the middle of the sea. None of them survived. Despair and heartbreak fill my senses when I'm faced with an empty home and an astronomical debt. Just as I'm about to jump off a rooftop, I see comments appearing before my eyes all of a sudden. "The truth is, your parents have won a jackpot of 300 million dollars. They've taken Amanda on an overseas trip for some fun!" "Heheh! Amanda doesn't even know that the so-called poor and blind boyfriend, whom she's just broken up with, is the heir of the Wright family. He's just pretending to be poor around her." "Once Amanda comes home after spending all of her money, she will get imprisoned by the enraged Mr. Wright as a form of punishment." "Hey, cannon fodder! Hurry up and die already! I can't wait for Amanda to make her glorious return!" It's at that moment I decide not to die. That night, I barge into Xavier Wright's rented apartment while completely drunk and drenched.

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.

I'm the most hot-tempered stand-in by Emily Kelley's side. When she smiled at another guy, I smashed her million-dollar car. When she had dinner with a man, I set her multi-million-dollar mansion on fire. Everyone thought Emily would kick me out in anger, but instead, she fell even more in love with me. It turned out my arrogant, jealous attitude was exactly like the lost love she couldn't forget. I spent eight years with her, turning a spoiled heiress into a devoted girlfriend who texts back instantly and apologizes at the first sign of trouble. We were about to get married. My friends envied how well I had trained her and thought we would live happily ever after. But on the day we were supposed to get our license, I waited for her at the city hall for hours—only to find out she had married her first love instead. When I arrived at the wedding, Emily looked at me with complicated eyes and apologized. "You should know you were just a stand-in. I never loved you. Now that my one true love is back, it's time for you to go." As I walked toward the altar, the guests backed away in fear, worried I might lose control. I looked at my system screen, which showed they had already gotten married, and calmly handed her the bouquet. "Got it. Wish you happiness. Have a good life." No one knew that all my jealous tantrums and drama were just me completing missions assigned by the system. Now that she and her first love are finally married, my mission is complete. I can finally go home. This game is over.

At his Alpha succession ceremony, Damien seated his childhood sweetheart in the Luna's chair, then dropped a mate bond severance agreement in front of me. “Once the bond's dissolved, I'll give you money. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. One condition: stay away from Serena.” I signed without hesitation but I didn't take a cent. “Don't worry. I'll disappear from your lives for good.” That night I went home, took out the silver knife I'd already prepared, and dragged it across my wrist. Twenty-five years ago I'd crossed into this world of werewolves. For twenty-five years I'd worked to win over three protagonists, and every last attempt had failed. The Moon Goddess had told me: once this body died, I could go home, back to my parents. I lay on the cold floor and waited for the end. As my mind went hazy, I felt no fear, only a strange, giddy relief. And right as I was slipping away, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

My husband, Tyler Stone, has been dead for seven years. One day, he suddenly comes back to life. Not only does he bring another woman home with him, but he even wants me to give up my position as his wife. "Ruth almost lost her eyes saving me, and I've promised to marry her. Sign the divorce agreement, and I won't kick you out of the house." I'm briefly silent before saying, "I've actually married someone else." He rolls his eyes. "As if. Everyone knows you're desperately in love with me!"

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

Despite dreaming of attending university all my life, I ended up stuck in my farming village. I married my brother-in-law and became my nephew’s stepmother. This all happened because my sister died trying to make money for my tuition fees on the day my results came out. I thought I had failed to secure a place at university and stopped thinking about higher education out of guilt. I married my brother-in-law according to my sister’s wishes. To pay for my sins, I raised my nephew and treated him like my own son. I made money and tutored him so that he could get into Northside University. In the end, I developed late-stage cancer. Before dying, I attended my nephew’s celebration, but he publicly accused me of being a homewrecker while my husband agreed that I had seduced him. They brought out my sister, dead for eighteen years, and made me apologize to her. It was then that I found out she had faked her death and used my university admission letter to finish her study. She had become a university lecturer after tricking me into taking care of her family. Outraged, I had a cerebral hemorrhage. When I woke up, I found I had gone back to the day my sister faked her death.

After my father-in-law, Anthony Randall, has undergone a coronary artery bypass surgery, he decides to visit the company to inspect the new project. I've ordered the project department to prepare a stable, smooth-riding man basket. But what I receive is a dangerous-looking man basket that doesn't have any safety measures installed in it. Anisa Howell, the first love of my husband, Conner Randall, speaks up mockingly at that moment. "Since your junk-collecting dad wants to collect more junk in the construction site, it's only natural that I, the person in charge of this project, hold the fort for Mr. Randall. "Then again, I've always been a soft-hearted person. This man basket might be malfunctioning, but it's perfectly adequate to send you guys to your destination." Realization dawns on me immediately. Anisa must have mistaken Anthony as my actual dad, who works as a farmer in the countryside. I'm about to explain to her that Anthony has just undergone a heart surgery and cannot suffer from any emotional distress caused by any factors, including tall heights. But Anisa quickly commands her workers to shove us into the man basket before pulling down the lever, which will cause it to ascend rapidly. Poor Anthony has gone deathly pale from the fright. He keeps clutching at his chest hopelessly the whole time. But Anisa has the audacity to flaunt her privileges over the walkie-talkie. "I'm a VIP of a bungee-jumping club. Today, I'll let you have a taste of what it feels like to soar through the skies."

After confessing 101 times to my childhood sweetheart, Morgan Lambert, he marries his first love, Cassandra White. With my heart in ruins, I leave him behind and marry his younger brother, James Lambert, who has pursued me relentlessly from the start. After marriage, James dotes on me to an extreme. His love is bold and intense. Everyone says I am unbelievably lucky to have married such a devoted man. As Cassandra and I sink into the water together, I can only watch as James dives in recklessly. He struggles through the water toward her, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I thrash and struggle in desperation, begging him to look at me even once. He never does. His entire focus is on getting her to shore, leaving me behind to be swallowed by the sea. While I am unconscious, I hear him and Morgan fighting violently in the hospital, arguing over who gets to stay by Cassandra's bedside. He roars in anguish, "I sacrificed myself by marrying Elsa so she wouldn't stand in the way of you and Cassie's happiness. Can you at least let me see Cassie once?" That is when I finally understand that none of them has ever loved me. I immediately arrange to fake my death, preparing to vanish from their lives completely. Yet after hearing the news of my so-called death, James—who's always calm—loses control. He pushes Cassandra aside, bends over, and coughs up blood. Overnight, he seems to age decades.

In the third year after my mate and I bonded, I was handed over to Alpha Kyle Draven like a bargaining chip. Kyle never forced me to take his mark. He treated me kindly and gave me my freedom. He let me go back to my old pack regularly to see my family. When the backlash left me bedridden with a high fever, he stayed by my side all night. Little by little, I fell for him. It wasn't until later that I found out the truth. Kyle was using me as bait to distract the rogues running wild across his lands while he secretly rescued his fated mate. Once the woman he'd longed for was safe, he no longer needed me. All his warmth had been an act. He placed a bottle of sleeping potion in my palm. "It will suppress your vital signs for only three hours. "After the funeral, my people will wake you and take you far away, to the southern lands." So I went back to my pack to say goodbye. My former mate, Miles Carver, came to pick me up himself. My parents held me, trembling, and told me how much they'd missed me these past two years. I thought someone here, at least, would want me to stay. But that very night, my former mate carved my headstone himself. My mother dressed me in the clothes I was meant to die in. My father chose a solid wood coffin for me. They all tried to persuade me. "You'll only appear to be dead. You can start a whole new life in the south." As I watched my pack bustle around, it hit me that every word they'd said made sense. The Alpha wanted to welcome his fated mate. My former mate wanted to erase the shame of giving me away. My pack wanted to protect its standing and its honor. They'd planned every detail of my fake death. They kept saying it was for my own good, but no one asked if I wanted it. They wanted a perfect show. But I didn't want to play my part anymore.

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."

It had taken me seven whole years to help Leonardo Caruso become Don. The night he took the title, he held my hand tightly and announced to everyone, "From now on, no matter what happens, forget about me if you have to. The Donna stays safe." That night, everyone envied what we had. Then his childhood friend, Isabella Greco, returned from Sorrenza. He still escorted me to dinners and galas on his arm, but he handed the family business to Isabella and told me to focus on resting and caring for our baby. Isabella's father had died for him. Whenever she needed him, I had to come second. I believed that after surviving so many brushes with death together, he would never truly abandon me. That belief lasted until the night of our wedding anniversary, when our convoy was ambushed on the way back to the estate. I was trapped inside the overturned car, cradling my stomach as I begged him for help. The guard who had already reached my car was about to pull me out. Yet Leonardo called him away and ordered him to save Isabella first, even though she had only a few scratches. When I woke up, the baby was gone, and so was my chance of ever becoming pregnant again. Leonardo sat beside my bed with bloodshot eyes and ordered his men to hunt down every attacker and make them pay. Yet the order that had called the guard away from me had come from his own mouth. Years earlier, he had given up his chance to seize power just to turn back and save me. Now that he was Don, the baby and I had to wait while he saved someone else first. I faked my death and left him for good. From that moment on, I was going to live a life that belonged only to me.

Everyone in the pack knew that my mate Damien loved me fiercely. After our mating ceremony, Damien gave me three bonding gifts. The first was a protective amulet he'd prayed three days and three nights for at the Moon Goddess shrine. The second was a sculpture he spent months carving with his own hands. The third was a diamond ring — the symbol of the Luna — priceless, and with it came the authority to govern the pack. On my birthday, he went searching for a moonstone and was ambushed by rogue wolves. He fell off a cliff. When he woke, his memory was gone. A bar hostess had rescued him. They fell in love. But the day before their mating ceremony, his memories returned, and he came back to me without hesitation. Just when I thought he'd ended things with her, on the very day I found out I was pregnant, I received a video — an intimate recording of the two of them together. Vivian was already carrying his child, nestled against Damien like a helpless little bird. "You're carrying my child. I won't abandon you. As for Elena — a few sweet words and she'll do whatever I say." I turned off my phone and sent a mind-link to my father. "Dad. The arranged mating you set up for me — I accept."

On my mafia husband Ettore Morandi's birthday, I slipped into the hotel where he was staying for a business trip with my pregnancy test results in hand. Five years earlier, when the family business was struggling, Ettore had not even been able to afford a proper wedding. Back then, he had held me in his arms and sworn, "Mirella, as long as I love you, a wedding is just a formality." I had once taken a bullet for him, and that injury had nearly robbed me of my chance to become a mother. But now I was pregnant, and I could not wait to tell him the good news. When I pushed open the doors to the hotel ballroom, however, I found a lavish wedding underway. The bride standing at the end of the aisle was none other than his childhood sweetheart, Viola Bellini, and Ettore was pinning the badge reserved for the Donna of the Morandi family onto her with his own hands. The guests around me murmured among themselves. "Signor Morandi really dotes on his childhood sweetheart. Word is Viola has cancer, and all she wants before the end is a grand wedding." "Ettore dropped almost ten million dollars just to make that wish come true." Five years earlier, he had told me that because he loved me, a wedding was only a formality. Five years later, he had spent nearly ten million dollars giving another woman the wedding I never had. I did not confront him, and I did not tell him I was pregnant. On our wedding anniversary, I staged my own death and let everyone believe that Mirella Santoro and the child she was carrying had perished together at sea.