Plot Twists Fake Death Short Stories & Novels

I let Gideon mark me again. Then, I put my Alpha mate up for rent. The fragile widow of his dead Beta, Civian, always found excuses to drag him out of our bed. I stopped crying over the possessive pull of our Mate bond. Instead, I just charged her by the hour. 100,000 an hour during the day. 200,000 at night. Triple on full moons. In just three months, my offshore account grew by nearly twenty million. He had promised to take me to the werewolf auction to buy some rare herbs. But that woman called, crying that her wolf was out of control and desperately needed soothing. I didn't even blink. I just pulled out my phone and started the timer. Midnight. Burning up with fever from the pills I took to suppress my heat, he was driving me to the Pack hospital. That woman called again, shaking because she had a nightmare about Civian’s bloody death. I calmly signaled him to pull over and drop me at the next intersection. Seeing the flicker of struggle in his eyes, I just smiled lazily. "Just don't forget to pay." Then came the day of our daughter Mia’s checkup at The Pack's Gene-Therapy Center. The woman called again. "Toby's first shift is coming up. He really needs a strong Alpha to guide him through this dangerous time..." Gideon hung up the phone. He turned, guilt flashing in his eyes, and started to kneel before our daughter to explain. But Mia just held out her little hand, copying me exactly. "It's okay, Daddy. Just pay up. It's a full moon today, so that’s triple."

My son and daughter-in-law suddenly returned home after living abroad for more than a decade. They spoke with my granddaughter in Datrenan the entire time during dinner. My granddaughter said, "Dad, Grandma's ugly and dumb. She's embarrassing!" My son just laughed. "What can we do? Country people are like that." I didn't understand what they were talking about, so I simply smiled and placed a chicken wing into my granddaughter's bowl, trying to please her. However, she threw it in my face instead. "Gross! It's all your fault that Grandpa and Kasey can't be here!" I was stunned. My husband died decades ago, and… who was Kasey?

My blood-bonded mate, Prince Dorian, despised me. I was just a mortal to him. A girl with filthy blood. His eternity was already promised to a pureblood—Cordelia. When she died in an accident, he blamed me. Hated me for ten years. But when rival vampires attacked our castle, he saved me. Bleeding out in my arms, he used his last breath to push my shaking hands away. "Odette... if only the Bond had never tied us together." At his wake, they kicked me out. So I climbed to the top of their family’s skyscraper—a place they arrogantly called "Heaven's Needle"—and jumped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night the ancient Blood Bond chose me as his mate. This time, I'm setting him free. And myself along with him.

It was at our engagement banquet that I finally learned the truth. I wasn't the true heiress of a noble human family. I wasn't the "fated bride" destined to bear a half-blood child for the vampires. I was just the wrong baby someone had brought home from the hospital. A fake. I'd thought that Alexander, the boy who'd risked his life to drag me out of a burning house, the boy I'd grown up beside, would love me the same as always. Instead, in front of everyone, he let go of my hand and looked down at me with cold eyes. "Without that bloodline, do you really think you deserve to stand beside me?" Then he reached out and slid the engagement ring off my finger himself. He turned, and led the true heiress up to the high platform. Everyone laughed at me. The fake heiress, delusional enough to think she could marry the vampire heir. I was thrown out of the only home I'd ever known. The only kindness left to me was Alexander's, a scrap of charity that let me stay at his side as the lowest thing a vampire could keep. A blood slave. And then, later, I died in an explosion. Saving him. Alexander knelt in the blood and lost his mind, screaming at everyone around him to save me. But there was something he didn't know. I hadn't died. Later still, at a vampire banquet, he saw me again at last. I walked past him on another man's arm, smiling. And this time, it was his turn to lose his mind begging me to look back at him.

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."

When Michele Barone, the Underboss of the Moretti family, proposes to me, I receive a video call from another version of myself, who's five years in the future. In the video call, my older self is already shaved bald. She's also trapped in the Moretti family's basement. "Don't marry him! You have to get rid of the unborn baby in your belly and get out of here right now!" I throw the ring to the table on the spot before going through an abortion right away. When Michele finds out the truth, he breaks down and cries his heart out. At the same time, he keeps demanding answers from me. All of my family and friends keep blaming and accusing me. They even claim that I've gone nuts. Meanwhile, Michele's childhood friend, Gianna Grasso, hides outside the room with a hand clamped over her mouth as she giggles secretly to herself. "AI nowadays sure is powerful! I can't believe she actually believes that the woman in the video call is actually her future self five years from now!" My lips curl into a small smile. Honestly speaking, I can tell right away that it's just a fake AI video, based on how shabbily it's made. It's quite simple as to why I've done those things, though—I've received an actual video call from my future self for real.

My dad is locked up in a cargo container filled with explosives at the docks. The Genovese family has sent me a video. Apparently, the explosives are set to detonate in 20 minutes. I quickly call my fiance, Dante Luciano, for help. He's the Don of the Luciano family. As long as he's around, no one will dare to lay a finger on my dad. When Dante answers my call, he promises that he'll bring his men to rescue Dad right away. But when the convoy is on the way to the container, he claims that he has more urgent things to do, so he turns the car around and leaves. I drive toward the docks like a madwoman. There, as I watch the countdown on the video ticking down, I keep spamming calls on Dante's phone. When I call him for the 77th time, Dante finally answers it. His voice is as cold as ice. "Stop bothering me with such tricks, Lina." "But my dad will die for real—" "Then let him die." Just like that, Dante ends the call. The countdown strikes zero, resulting in Dad getting blasted into smithereens. The next thing I know, Dante's mistress, Bianca Magoni, has uploaded a photo to her social media feed. It features Dante, who's in the middle of cutting the steak for her gently. "I made an off-handed comment about wanting to eat steak, and now Don Luciano is personally cutting it just for me." It turns out that the so-called urgent business Dante has is cutting the steak for his beloved mistress. My heart dies on the inside. Hence, I fake my death and vanish from Dante's life. Later on, Dante kneels before me after searching everywhere for me like a madman. "Lina, please don't abandon me! I'm begging you, please!" I just smile at him. "You got the wrong person, sir. That's not my name."

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.

On Mother’s Day, I was driving an intoxicated wealthy woman home when she suddenly said, “You know, I stole my husband from another woman.” Then she handed me a photo. The moment I saw it, my entire body went numb. The man smiling with his arm around her looked exactly like my husband — who had supposedly died eight years ago. After my husband, Cedric Foster, died in an accident, he left me drowning in debt and caring for his comatose mother. To pay everything off, I worked a day job and drove for a rideshare service at night. When creditors came knocking and I had no money left, I sold my blood more times than I could count. “Handsome, isn’t he?” said the woman with a smug smile. “He was married back then, but for me, he walked away from his wife and abandoned his family.” As we entered an exclusive luxury neighborhood, the woman rushed toward two figures waiting ahead. The moment I recognized them, every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I could barely breathe.

After Emily Cross died in an accident, I went through three years of absolute hell. This year, on the anniversary of her death, I escaped from a rehab facility overseas just to see her one last time. Stumbling into the cemetery in a daze, I passed a couple walking the other way. The man's voice was laced with annoyance. "You're almost at your due date, and you still insisted on coming to the cemetery. What a hassle." The woman gave a soft laugh. "We agreed we'd come pay respects to your father. I couldn't just back out." That voice stopped me cold. Turning my neck stiffly, I saw the face that had haunted me for three years. Emily Cross, heavily pregnant. And beside her was my mother's illegitimate son, Jake. A chill ran through me. Shaking, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. Then I sent it to her forensic pathologist friend. [She's not dead, is she?]

Every year on the day the SAT results are released, I spend the entire day kneeling at my mother's grave. Three years ago, I fell for a phone scam and transferred all of the tuition money she had saved through years of diligently saving up to the scammers. Unable to take the sudden blow, Mom suffered a fatal heart attack. After she passed away, debt collectors began showing up at our door. Only then did I learn how much money she had borrowed just to keep us afloat. I have no choice but to give up my admission offer from Jaloria College. Working five jobs a day, I finally repay every last debt today. On the subway ride to the cemetery, I suddenly come across a streamer whose voice sounds strangely familiar. She blabs, "How do you teach kids the value of earning money? In my experience, extreme circumstances work the best. I deliberately created a scenario for my daughter where both her parents are supposedly dead, and she inherited a million dollars of my debt. "She's almost finished paying it off now. Tell me, can your kids do that?" Someone in the comments section questions her methods, saying it is too insane. She only grows more smug as she gloats, "So what? She's the one who was stupid enough to get scammed. I was just teaching her a lesson. As a reward for doing so well, I'll tell her the truth on her birthday five days from now. Any sensible child will understand their parents' good intentions." As she gestures animatedly, a crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist comes into view. It's identical to my mom's. My hands tremble as I create a new account. I switch the profile picture to a man in a suit and change the background to luxury cars and mansions. Then, I send her an expensive virtual gift. While she excitedly thanks me, I leave a comment. "You're absolutely right, ma'am. If only I had a smart woman like you around to help me raise my children."

Before Cameron Finch goes on a business trip, he gives me a doll that looks exactly like him. "Babe, whenever you miss me, you can press this button on the doll. Once you've unlocked the easter egg, I'll come back and spend time with you." Later on, the plane Cameron had boarded crashes. I can only hug the doll he's given me, unable to sleep a wink at night. All I can do is press the button repeatedly until my fingertip goes numb and stiff. When I press it for the thousandth time, the doll lags momentarily. Then the recorded voice takes on an entirely different tone. "This marks the thousandth time you've hit this button! Congratulations on unlocking the easter egg! "Gwen, Mari and I have already registered our marriage. Our wedding will take place at the end of this year. I know this is unfair to you, but there's no such thing as 'first-come, first-served' in romance. I hope that you can give us your blessings. "Mari wants me to tell you that you will always be the bridesmaid of her wedding. I really hope you can attend our wedding since our families are friends and all. I will always be an older brother figure to you." My finger freezes at the message. As soon as the last word falls, I feel my phone buzzing. Marissa Becker has texted me. "Gwen, I'm getting married soon! I've reserved a slot for you as my bridesmaid! You must attend the wedding, okay?"

After three years, I finally found my husband, who had gone missing during our honeymoon. However, no matter whether I broke down in despair or became hysterical, he remained completely cold and calm, having suffered from amnesia. "The heir of the Wingers you keep talking about really isn't me. "Don't come looking for me again, or Nora will make me sleep on the sofa." The doting on another woman in his every word pierced my heart with a thousand holes. Just as I was about to give up, I accidentally overheard his friend asking him. "Three years ago, just to be with Nora, you faked your death during your honeymoon with Hazel. Now, you want to go back to living the good life as the heir of the Wingers, so you're pretending to have amnesia in front of her. "Don't you think you're being too hard on her?" Jeff slammed down a glass of alcohol. "Nora is already pregnant with my child. I must let her into the family." I gave up all hope then, turning around to stop my in-laws who were about to rush over. "Lydia, Daniel, I've seen him in person. This man is not Jeff."

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest friends teasing her. "Emmy, how much longer are you planning to keep up this fake-death act?" A familiar voice answered, one I could never mistake, that was tinged with indulgence and amusement. "As soon as Corbin Ellery's heart condition is cured. Back then, if Grayson hadn't insisted on sending the butler to the destruction plant, Corbin wouldn't have needed to pretend his system malfunctioned. And I wouldn't have had to fake my death to help him disappear completely." Another friend clicked her tongue. "Still, nobody expected you to go this far. Having Corbin wear a custom synthetic skin suit and pose as a robot butler right under your husband's nose all those years? That's insane." Fake death? Corbin? The blood drained from my face. The woman I had mourned for five years was alive. And the robot that had stirred her desire had never been a robot at all. It was my closest friend. A passing server accidentally slammed into me, sending a tray crashing to the floor. The conversation inside stopped instantly. Emmy turned toward the doorway, and our eyes met.

On my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

Before I turn eight, I am the most spoiled little princess in our family. I love beautiful shoes, so my parents buy me the crystal heels that are the highlight of an auction. When I want to learn the piano, they hire the most talented virtuoso to be my teacher. Mom and Dad love me, and my older brother, Asher Sullivan, dotes on me, too. However, everything changes the year I turn eight, when Asher is killed by human traffickers while trying to save me. From that moment on, I'm branded as the sinner of the family. Mom and Dad forbid me from sleeping in my own room. Every single night, they make me kneel in Asher's room to repent for my sins. Every year on the anniversary of Asher's death, Mom and Dad whip my mouth with the soles of their shoes to make me remember the grave mistake I committed. Later on, Mom and Dad adopt a boy named Archer Sullivan, who's a carbon copy of Asher, and have him punish me in Asher's place. After nearly five years of torment, when I'm at death's door, a voice suddenly breaks the silence. "I didn't give my life to save you just so you could let them treat you like a punching bag, you idiot!"

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.

The yacht carrying my parents and my younger brother, Dylan Marsh, exploded at sea. There were no survivors. I came home to an empty house and a mountain of debt I had no way to pay off. Numb with despair, I climbed onto the roof, ready to jump—when a stream of comments suddenly scrolled past my vision, as if I were watching myself from the outside. [Plot twist: your parents actually won three hundred million dollars in the lottery. They took your brother abroad to live it up.] [Lol, Dylan has no idea the poor, blind girlfriend he dumped is actually the eldest daughter of the Ross family. She's just been playing along, pretending to be broke.] [Once Dylan blows through all his money and comes crawling back, Celeste Ross is going to lock him in a room and make him pay for it.] [Come on, cannon fodder, jump already. Everyone's waiting for Dylan's big comeback.] I decided, right then, that I wasn't going to die after all. That night, soaked to the bone and half-drunk, I knocked on Celeste Ross's door.

My family goes bankrupt when I'm ten years old. Just like that, I become a fallen heir overnight. Instead of letting me struggle, my dad, Steven Hollister, raises me with even greater care. He insists that I'm the family's only hope. I spend the next eight years living like a porcelain doll. My skin can't have so much as a scratch. Every meal is measured down to the last calorie. I'm forbidden from taking gym class or touching anything sharp. If I come home with even the smallest cut or scrape, Dad berates me for days. My younger brother, Michael Hollister, on the other hand, is given complete freedom. He skips school and gets into fights. Dad barely gives him a second glance. "He'll never amount to anything," he says with a dismissive wave. "This family is counting on you." On my 18th birthday, Dad excitedly announces that the company is finally going to recover and that we'll be rich again. He throws me an extravagant birthday party, but the guest of honor is a young man about my age seated at the head of the table. During dinner, the stranger openly sizes me up from head to toe before nodding in satisfaction. I assume he's the investor who's about to save my family. That night, I happen to glance at Dad's phone just as the screen lights up. A notification shows a massive wire transfer. The payment note reads, "Final payment received. We'll deliver the goods as scheduled."

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.