Tragic Love Fake Death Short Stories & Novels

I had personally trained Damiano Vestri and brought him up the ranks to become the mafia’s Don. The family’s inner circle accepted him, and he was loyal only to me. Whenever bullets went flying, he would always shield me and take many of them for me. The night before our wedding, I waited for his return, but what I got was news of his death. A week later, I received an email with a pregnancy report and a photo. The photo showed Damiano caressing another woman’s belly. It turned out he had faked his death so that he could be with his first love. The due date for her pregnancy was approaching. I scoffed and clicked the safety off on my gun. If he wanted to fake his death, I would help him turn it into a real one.

When I went for my prenatal checkup, I filled in my mafia husband Enrico Salvatore's information in the spouse column. However, the doctor told me, "The system shows no record of you ever being married. You're unmarried." I froze, unable to believe it. "How is that possible? We got married five years ago. Please check again." The doctor pulled up the system records again, and only one line appeared on the screen: [Marriage Registration: None.] At first, I thought the hospital had made a mistake. Then, I overheard Enrico talking to one of his men. "Isabella's the only one in my heart. I'll give her everything else she wants. But Luisa gave me a daughter. For the sake of the family's bloodline, I have to register our marriage and give her that status. Isabella can never find out about the registration." At that moment, I finally understood. The small wedding five years ago was nothing but a cover. We never registered. There was no legal marriage. Even the child I was carrying had no legal standing. It was all an elaborate lie he had crafted. Since none of this ever truly belonged to me, I would just leave.

After my wife died, I stayed on as a chauffeur for a female CEO just to keep myself and our daughter fed. Five years later, an anonymous message reached my phone: [Tonight. Eight o'clock. The little garden. There's a surprise waiting for you.] I didn't know what to make of it, but curiosity won out, and I went anyway. The moment eight o'clock struck, I looked through the window and watched the CEO peel a mask of human-like skin off her own face. Underneath it was, unmistakably, the face of my dead wife. Beside her, Marcus Kane shot me a scornful look before pulling her into his arms. "Sweetheart, you're too good to me," he said. "Giving up your husband and daughter, hiding your identity, just to help me build this business empire." He let out a theatrical sigh. "Then again, maybe you should go back to him. Cooper has had it rough. I could probably manage taking care of little Tobias on my own..." She melted against him. "Don't be silly. If I left, what would people think of you, raising a child alone? Back when Francesca died in that accident, my heart broke for the two of you—a widower and his little boy with no mother. So I made the mask that very night, and let the world believe I was the one who'd died." "Cooper is strong. He can handle a little hardship. I'll pay off what I owe him and our daughter in the next life." I stood frozen, tears sliding down my cracked, calloused hands, stinging where they fell. With nothing left to lose, I gave my reply to an anonymous number: [Alright. Let's work together.]

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…"

When I found out I was pregnant, Elroy Lousteau went all out—hired some fancy doctor, loaded me up with meds to "protect the baby." He'd never believed in anything before, but suddenly he went to church, praying like his life depends on it. "You've been through hell, babe. Once the baby's here, I swear I'll make it right." That same day, I picked up his phone by accident. "As instructed, the meds include a compound for permanent infertility. The baby will be stillborn. "Ms. Tillon's baby is healthy and will be delivered safely—as the true Lousteau heir. "Mrs. Lousteau won't suspect a thing. Your relationship's secure. You can rest assured." I looked down at my belly. He never loved me. Not really. So I made up my mind—once the divorce papers were signed, I was gone. No looking back.

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?

On the third anniversary of our son's death, I stood outside the cemetery chapel, holding a bunch of white daisies. From inside, I heard the voice of Giovanna Valeri, my mother-in-law and the former Donna of the Valeri family. "Sooner or later, you'll have to accept that the boy is gone. "But Aria's baby is a Valeri by blood. The family must recognize him as one of our own." I froze outside the door. I'd found Aria abandoned by the roadside when I was a child and taken her home. I couldn't bear the thought of her freezing or starving, so I took her in and raised her like my own sister. And now she was pregnant with my husband's baby. Inside, there was a long silence. Then Niccolo spoke, his voice low. "Tomorrow, I'll call the elders together and make it official. Aria's baby will be recognized as a Valeri. "Don't... tell Elena about this yet." The browning petals were cold to the touch, reminding me of Leo's lifeless body in my arms three years ago. That day, my husband, Niccolo Valeri, had looked at me with red eyes and made me a promise. Our son would not die for nothing. Leo would always be his only child. Three years. That was all it took for him to break his promise. And I was the one person he wanted to keep in the dark.

The day the nationwide serial killer, Landis Grant, was executed, I was the one who escorted him to the death chamber. Right before the lethal injection, he turned his head and looked at me with strange, sudden pity. "You know, I only actually killed seventeen people," he whispered, his raspy voice cutting through the silent room. "I deserve to die, no question. But your hotshot lawyer wife? Her death isn't on my tab." Hearing him mention my wife, Valerie Foster, made a hot surge of rage claw up my throat. Three years ago, she was stabbed dozens of times by Landis while protecting crucial evidence. I drove through the night from out of state, only to find her body completely unrecognizable at the morgue. Grief tore through me so violently that I collapsed, coughing up blood, and spent an entire month confined to a hospital bed. For three years, I chased Landis to the absolute edge of hell, risking everything just to drag him in and avenge her. Following the address Landis had left behind, I made my way to a quiet suburban house. The second I set foot in the yard, I froze completely. Valerie was right there, wrapping her arms around her former mentor, Dylan Reed, kissing him with a tenderness that shattered my heart. A toddler, around two or three years old, was swinging back and forth on a wooden swing right beside them. My head throbbed, white noise roaring in my ears. I took a step forward, but someone grabbed my shoulder from behind. It was my chief, Noah Morgan, the man I respected more than anyone on the force. "Valerie is happy now, son," he said quietly, "Do yourself a favor and just walk away. Let it go." I shoved his hand off my shoulder. Unholstering my service weapon, I aimed into the open air and fired three warning shots. "Valerie Foster, you're under arrest for bigamy," I said, my voice dead and completely cold, "Come to the station with me."

On our wedding night, my husband, Arthur Pemberton, forces a potion down my throat that can temporarily rob me of my voice. He then swaps me into the death row cell meant for his childhood sweetheart, Mabel Sinclair. Mabel had ridden a horse while intoxicated, striking and killing the only son and heir of Prince Ezra. She was scheduled to be executed by beheading at noon the following day. But Arthur takes my bridal gown, dresses Mabel in it, and smuggles her out through the Court of Judicial Review's back gate to bring her back to the Pemberton family estate. Seeing the chains on my wrists, his mother, Flora Sterling, feels a flicker of hesitation in her. "Aren't you afraid that Prince Ezra might carry out the execution ahead of schedule if you send Vicky to prison instead?" she asks. Arthur doesn't even look up, too busy placing my wedding tiara on Mabel's head. "I am the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. Without my official warrant, nobody would dare touch her," he replies. "I'm merely using her identity to buy three days' time. Once the storm blows over, I shall swap them back, of course." Flora lowers her voice. "Vicky was the one who sold her family estate and endured 30 lashes in your stead seven years ago, when our Pemberton family was unjustly accused of a capital crime. You do remember that, didn't you? She did all that to ensure that the evidence reached the King in time." Arthur's fingers pause. "I have not forgotten, Mother. That's why I've never once considered breaking off the engagement with her, even though she can't tolerate Mabel by my side." Before dawn, the Princess Consort arrives at the death row cell, bearing an Imperial Edict. She suspects Arthur will abuse his power to shield the culprit, so she specifically petitioned the King to move the execution up to early morning. I slam my head against the stone, breaking free from the guards holding me. But when I reach the end of the execution grounds, I realize that Arthur is in the midst of a wedding ceremony with Mabel. His expression shifts when he sees me covered in blood. He immediately strips off his wedding robes and wraps them around me. "How did you end up so badly hurt?" he exclaims. "Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the cell?" I stare fixedly at the pearl tiara on Mabel's head. It was a family heirloom—a treasure my late mother left me, meant to be worn only on my wedding day. Following my gaze, Arthur instinctively steps in front of her, shielding her from my sight. "She was badly shaken by the incident. She's just using your bridal gown to ward off the bad luck. It's only going to be three days, Vicky. Why can't you just endure this small grievance for her sake?" The death-knell drums at the execution ground begin to beat once more. I push off his wedding robes and ask, "It's your wish that I die in her stead, isn't it, Arthur? "Fine, then. You should go. Don't miss your happy hour."

I stand before the grave of my late wife, Casey Hill, having repaid her debts for five years. When I return home, I realize that our dog, Pudding, has gone missing. It is the only memory Casey has left me. I search everywhere frantically, eventually finding it hovering between life and death in an alley. Standing at the side is a girl. She points at Pudding and laughs gleefully to her friends. "Are you guys seeing this? This little guy is tough. We've played with it for so long, and it's still breathing!" I shove her aside and pick it up, my eyes bloodshot. The blood on Pudding's fur makes my heart ache so much I can hardly breathe. The girl utters a yelp as she falls to the ground. Furious and embarrassed, she picks herself up and kicks me hard in the head. "You bastard! How dare you push me for this filthy little beast! Do you know who my mom is?" With my head spinning from the blow, I suddenly hear a woman's voice. "Jenna, what's wrong? Who bullied you?" I snap my head up. There it is, the face I have wished to see in my dreams for the past five years.

My husband, Charles Vison, was the Don feared throughout Sicily. In three years of marriage, I had been the only person who could get away with anything around him. I always believed that no matter what happened, he would stand by my side. Until my younger sister, Sandra, caused a disaster. With the Vison Family backing her, she got into a confrontation with a rival Family and shot the rival Don’s wife dead in the chaos. The retaliation came immediately. They bombed one of the Vison Family’s docks and ambushed a cargo ship. Three days later, the two Families finally sat down at the negotiation table. The other side made only one demand: Sandra had to be handed over. Otherwise, their Don would fight the Vison Family to the bitter end, no matter the cost. “Or…” The man sitting at the head of the table suddenly turned his gaze toward me and smiled coldly. “I could make you feel what it’s like to lose the person you love most.” That night, Charles received information that the other side would launch another bombing attack at the port banquet seven days later. After a long silence, he decided that I would fake my death in that explosion. “Only your death can calm their anger.” “When that happens, I’ll arrange for you to leave here and go to a private island in North America.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Why me? Why do I have to fake my death? Sandra was the one who killed her.” My mother’s eyes immediately turned red. “Your sister has never been able to take care of herself. How is she supposed to survive alone on an island like that?” My father tried to persuade me as well. “You’re more sensible than her, and you’re better at taking care of yourself.” I ignored them and looked at Charles with hurt in my eyes. I was certain that he couldn’t bear to let me go, but in the next moment, he avoided my gaze. “I’ll send people to take care of you.” In that moment, everything I believed in fell apart. I looked at the three people standing against me and smiled through my tea

For three years, I've been the only woman Hayden Prescott, the heir of the most powerful family in Jinton, has eyes for. Then his long-lost fiancée returns. Three years ago, the Lawson family falls deep into debt. My father and older brother spike my wine and personally deliver me straight to Hayden's hotel suite. By the next morning, photos of me stumbling out of his room with my clothes in disarray are circulating all over Jinton. Everyone brands me a shameless gold digger who will stop at nothing to marry into the powerful Prescott family. But Hayden doesn't cast me aside. When reporters mob me, he pulls me into his arms and shields me from the cameras. When a high fever leaves me bedridden, he puts a ten-billion-dollar deal on hold to stay by my side all night. And when thunderstorms frighten me, he even moves his international business meetings into our bedroom. After three years of being treated like the most precious person in his world, I finally let myself believe he truly loves me. Then Winona Monroe, his fiancée who's been missing for years, suddenly returns safe and sound. Only then do I discover that the Prescott family has already arranged another marriage for him. Hayden only keeps a woman with a ruined reputation like me around to ward off the wealthy socialites throwing themselves at him. Having me by his side also convinces everyone that he's moved on and has given up searching for Winona. Now that the woman he's been waiting for is finally back, I'm nothing more than a disposable stand-in. Hayden places a new passport in my hand, his voice as gentle as ever. "Winona's too kind. If she finds out that coming back means taking your place, she'd never agree to marry me. The only way she'll marry me without feeling guilty is if you're dead. "The yacht explosion is just for show. A boat will be waiting to pick you up in international waters. Once you take on a new identity, you'll have a house overseas and more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life." I beg Hayden Prescott to give me one more day so I can go home and say goodbye to my parents. My older brother, Jack Lawson, comes to pick me up himself. He remembers that I got carsick, and he has even left a box of lemon candies in the car for me. When we get home, Mom and Dad pull me into their arms and burst into tears. They tell me how sorry they were and say that not a single day has gone by in the past three years when they haven't missed me. For a moment, I believe there are still people who want me in their lives. But a little while later, I discover that Dad is picking out a burial plot for me, and Mom has already chosen the portrait for my memorial service. Meanwhile, Jack sits at his desk, revising his eulogy over and over. They all try to reassure me. "It's just a staged death. Mr. Prescott has already taken care of everything. You'll have a new name, and you can still live a perfectly good life overseas." I look around at the funeral arrangements scattered throughout the room and suddenly realize they all have a point. Hayden wants to marry Winona Monroe, the fiancée he has finally gotten back after years apart. Jack wants to erase the stain on his reputation from selling me off three years ago. Dad wants to save Lawson Group. And Mom wants me, the daughter who has brought such shame upon the family, to disappear for good. All I have to do is die, and everyone else can walk away with their reputation intact. But not a single one of them has bothered to ask if that's what I want. Once the yacht reaches international waters, I take off my tracking device. In the distance, the boat Hayden arranged to pick me up waits with its lights on. The crew keeps waving at me, urging me to hurry up and jump into the water. Instead, I turn away and walk back into the cabin of the yacht that is about to explode. Alone. My family started it all by drugging me and delivering me straight into Hayden's bed. Now, Hayden has sent me aboard a yacht that is destined to sink. If no one wants me around while I'm alive, then this time, I'll give them exactly what they want. I'll repay them with my life.

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.

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.

I'd been married to Lucas, the Don of the Mitchell family—the biggest crime syndicate in the country—for six years when I found out he'd given my own daughter to his savior to raise. I was about to confront him when he beat me to it, asking for a divorce. His savior didn't have much time left. Her dying wish was to become his Donna. "She ended up like this because she saved me. Her last wish is just to be my Donna. You understand, don't you?" "Don't worry. You'll always be my only Donna. Once this is over, we'll remarry right away." I'd lost count of how many times he'd sacrificed me for her. So I nodded calmly and signed the divorce papers. Seven years of love. Nine hundred and ninety-nine disappointments. I was done standing by his side while he repaid his debts. I sent one message: "Help me plan a fake death. A plane crash." The day he slid the Donna's ring onto his savior's finger, I boarded that plane. If he wanted to marry another woman, then— I didn't want him 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."

On the day of our engagement, my Alpha mate Kane mistakenly thought that my mom had seduced his dad and almost killed his mom. He canceled our ceremony and forced me, who was eight months pregnant, to jump into the silver pit. Kane hated me for three years, and threatened me with my child to be the most humble slave in his pack, watching him and other women make love. "Aria, you destroyed my family! I will never let you go in this life!" Finally, I accepted my fate and stopped resisting, letting the guards throw me into the silver pit. However, when Kane found out that those things had nothing to do with me, he went completely crazy looking at the pool of blood in the silver pit.

On the day I donated my kidney, I never thought my wife, Rebecca Tanner, would cut open her own heart and confess her regrets. After all, she had staged her own death in a bombing, all so she and Mason Sanders could test my loyalty. All she left me was two billion in gambling debt and a contract selling me into slavery. The creditor said they would leave her body in the grave and spare it from being fed to the hyenas. But to do that, I had to sign a contract with my blood and become their pet from then on. After that, I was locked in an iron cage beneath an underground fighting ring. By day, they chained me up and forced me to lick the blood from the winners' shoes. At night, they injected me with drugs and threw me into the fighting ring, turning me into a living toy for the wealthy to bet on. One broken rib doubled the stakes. One lost tooth added another ten thousand dollars. When I heard that my parents had been stripped and thrown into the mouth of a volcano alive, I broke completely. Covered in blood, I snapped the iron chain and rushed to the volcano. Instead, I found my "dead" wife gently lighting Mason's cigarette. Mason puffed out a ring of smoke and sneered. "We still have ten seconds left on the bet, Rebecca. You've lost."

For five years, I was Alpha Damon’s secret. On the surface, I was his personal Beta. His most trusted second-in-command. In private, I was his fated mate. The one he was obsessed with. He wanted to be inside me every night, to lose himself in my body forever. Then, I got pregnant. I was so excited to tell him we were starting a family. But when I went to find him, he had another she-wolf pinned to his desk. His bite marks littered her skin. "I waited ten years for my fated mate, but she never came," he growled. "Chloe. You will be my chosen mate. My only one." Her answering moan shattered my soul. My wolf howled in agony. The pain of his betrayal was so intense, I felt a horrible cramp. Then, blood. I lost our baby. When I woke up in the hospital, I made a call I hadn't made in five years. "Brother," I choked out. "That arranged mating with Alpha Ethan? I'll do it."

The day she found out about the tumor, Noemi Rosales made one wild choice—she'd give her corneas to her blind husband, Daniel Gomez. Quietly. No spotlight, no drama. Too bad Daniel only cared about Ivanna Lopez. He ate up every lie she fed him and iced Noemi out like she was nothing. "I want you out of my life." Cool. Noemi could do that. "Ms. Rosales, are you certain you want Mr. Gomez listed as the cornea recipient?" "Yeah. Give them to him. Once I'm gone, the hospital can use the rest of me for science or whatever." She scrawled her signature. "Don't tell him."