Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Fake Death Novels

Everyone says that Eric Winslowe, the Alpha of Kalmoor Pack, loves me to the bone. He learns sign language for me because I can't hear, and he prepares to throw me a grand wedding after I thoroughly fall for him. However, after I regain my hearing, I catch him flirting and being intimate with Camilla Johnson, his maid. They're just in the room next to mine. During a banquet, he even takes advantage of my lack of hearing to brag. "She's just a pet that I have to alleviate the boredom. Alison is the only one I love. Still, I know she'll leave me if she finds out about this. "Thank God Alison can't hear. I won't let her find out about this even after we're married. Watch your mouths, everyone. Don't blame me for getting nasty if any of you bring this up to Alison." I sneer to myself. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to fear others exposing his cheating—I already know. He also doesn't need to look forward to our wedding because all that awaits him on that day is a corpse that looks just like me.

Two years ago, my entire family boarded a luxury cruise ship for an ocean getaway, only to be ambushed by abductors. My parents and younger brother were all murdered. Meanwhile, I leaped into the sea, fighting for my life. Nigel Heath was the one who saved me from the water. Before my family's bodies were even recovered, my relatives rushed in, trying to seize control of the company. Again, it was Nigel who helped me hold onto everything. He stood by me, supported me, and eventually proposed to me. I agreed with tears in my eyes. Two years have passed since we got married. One day, I catch Nigel fooling around with the housekeeper he's hired for a high sum. "When are you going to make me your wife, Nigel? When can I enter your room without having to sneak around?" He kisses her and laughs. "Running out of patience?" She complains, "Her company's almost yours, so what are you waiting for? Aren't you worried you'll lose everything when she finds out you killed her parents?" He immediately grips her neck tightly, his gaze turning frosty as he growls, "She won't know as long as you keep your mouth shut. Her father killed mine, so I'm going to keep her by my side forever and torment her for life. "I'll give you what you want once she transfers the final patent to me. Step a toe out of line, and you're getting nothing." I stand outside the door as tears silently stream down my face. My husband killed my parents and is even plotting to steal the company they established! The murderer has been by my side this whole time! My parents and brother died so horribly. How can I let Nigel get what he wants?

My lawyer husband, Chester Stratton, and our five-year-old son were kidnapped. By the time I arrived, the bomb had already detonated, and they were reduced to ashes before my eyes. My older sister, a prosecutor, had tried to help me track down the culprit, yet even she was captured and tortured to death. Everyone said my ruthless methods had earned me too many enemies, that they had suffered because of me. They said I should have been the one to die. Even the Criminal Investigation Division stripped me of my position. For three years, I secretly hunted for the mastermind. Until one day, my investigation led me to a restaurant. There, I saw my husband, my son, and my sister—the three people who had supposedly died three years ago. They were all sitting together, celebrating a little girl's birthday. Friends and relatives surrounded them, smiling as though nothing had ever happened. Fury surged through me, and I was about to storm over and demand answers when my best friend grabbed me from behind, refusing to let go. "Audrey, I know you can't accept this, but they're husband and wife now. If you make a scene, how are you any different from a homewrecker? Phoebe got pregnant with Chester's child three years ago. Everyone knew how ruthless you could be. Faking their deaths was the only way they could escape you." Beside her, my mother fixed me with a warning look. "It's good that you found out. For the past three years, Phoebe and Chester have been forced to move from place to place with their two children. It broke my heart to watch them live like that. Now, their family of four is finally happy. If you just walk away, everyone will forgive you." The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked at the people before me and laughed until tears streamed down my face. So Chester and my sister had never died. While I had spent the past three years drowning in grief, they had been living peaceful, happy lives. And everyone had known the truth. Everyone had conspired to keep it from me.

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.

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."

During the eighth month of my pregnancy, I was pushed and fell. This caused me to have a miscarriage. In order to keep me alive, my womb would be removed. Just when I was experiencing excruciating pain, I accidentally overheard the conversation between my husband and the doctor. "Mr. Lawson, Ms. White is actually in stable condition now. Are you sure you want us to remove her womb?" "This is the only way that she will truly love my and Riley's child. Riley and I will never be together, but I'll give everything that I have to our only child. Mandy already has me, isn't that enough?" After hearing their conversation with my own ears, I finally realized that the person that I loved so much was just a liar.

"Miss Hudson, we have prepared a corpse identical to you, just as you requested. It will be delivered to your wedding with Mr. Warhol in ten days." Hearing the voice on the other end of the line, Violet Hudson felt a small knot of tension unwind inside her. "Alright. Thank you." "You're welcome. This is our job. Please rest assured—no one will ever suspect a thing." With that guarantee, she exhaled, the weight on her chest easing just a little. After confirming the final details once more, she ended the call and pushed open the door to the private room. The noise inside had been a constant hum, a mix of voices overlapping, but the moment she stepped in, silence fell like a curtain.

My older sister was suffering from severe hemorrhaging during a traumatic childbirth, and her life was in danger. On her deathbed, she called for me. Looking at her pale face, I wept and swore that I would take good care of her child. However, she shook her head weakly. “I don’t need you to take care of him. Chloe, the baby belongs to your husband.” In an instant, my world fell silent. My husband, Ethan, stepped forward and took my sister’s hand. With bloodshot eyes, he dropped to his knees right in front of me. “We never wanted to hurt you, so we kept it a secret,” he sobbed. “Now that she’s dying, we only ask for your blessing.” Numb with shock, I stiffly picked up a pen and signed the divorce papers. Three days later, I buried my sister, and on her tombstone, the inion read: Wife of Ethan. My parents were furious. They disowned her, cutting her out of the family entirely. They refused to acknowledge the newborn child, choosing instead to stay by my side, devoted to helping me heal. However, over the next five years, my mental health only deteriorated further. On the day I finally decided to end my own life, I brought my sister's favorite lilies and visited her grave. That was when I caught sight of her linking arms with Ethan and holding a young boy with her other arm. My parents stood right beside them, looking sorry for her. “If we hadn’t been worried she might hurt you, we wouldn’t have forced you to fake your death for five years,” my mother said, comforting her. “She’s in a really bad state right now. When we go home, we’ll convince her that her memory is faulty and that you two were married all along. That way, you can finally live together openly.” The bouquet of lilies slipped from my fingers, falling into the dirt and scattering dust across the white petals. I pulled out my phone and changed Ethan’s contact name from “Ex-Husband” to “Ethan.” There was no need to lie anymore. I was letting you go for real.

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.

On the day of his funeral, I discovered that my fiance, Zachary Gray, had come back to life. His friend says teasingly, "You sure know how to stage an act, Zachary. Your fiancee cried so much over your fake death that she almost went blind!" Zachary smiles indifferently and says, "Stepping into marriage is like taking one foot into the grave. Of course, I have to have some fun first." I stand in the shadows and watch him bend down to kiss another woman. He then points at the tombstone I had carefully and painstakingly carved for him, laughing until he can't catch his breath. Watching him, I feel like an utter fool. I take out my phone and call my father. "Dad, since Zachary is dead, our engagement is null. Let's pull out of the collaboration with the Gray family's company."

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.

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."

My pack was slaughtered. But my fated mate Ethan turned his back on me, choosing another she-wolf, Lyra. In my darkest hour, his brother, Alpha Caden, claimed me. He promised me safety. Vengeance. A home. For three years, I was his Luna. I thought I was safe. Then I learned the truth. "You've hidden the evidence for three years, Alpha. You know Lyra was behind the Dawn Moon slaughter. What happens when your Luna finds out?" Caden’s reply shattered my world. "I have to protect Lyra. Even though she chose my brother, I need her to be happy. As for Selena, making her my Luna is compensation enough." My legs went weak. I almost collapsed, sobbing. The monster who killed my family was right beside me all along. And the mate I loved so deeply? Our bond was a lie, built only to shield her. So I performed the Farewell Ritual, a ceremony to erase myself from the world. Only when he was about to lose me forever did Caden finally see the truth. Shattered by regret, he hunted down the real killer, begging for a forgiveness he would never earn.

In the hall where we held my daughter's wake, I reached for my phone to call my parents. That was when I saw it. My stepsister had posted a video of herself giving birth on social media. In the video, a man cradled the newborn in his arms and wept over her. It was my husband, the man who had supposedly died in a car accident five years ago. The comments below overflowed with likes and congratulations from our relatives. My mother had left three comments of her own: [You worked so hard, my precious girl. Your family of three is finally together again.] My entire body went cold. I called her and demanded an explanation. She dodged every question before finally saying with a resigned sigh, "We helped him fake his death in that car accident years ago. He and Rachel had already been together for a long time. "We only lied to you because we didn't want you to suffer. Your sister just gave birth. It's time you let this go. Don't ruin their happiness." I hung up. Still dressed in mourning black, with the cold seeping into my bones, I called my closest friend, Angeline Brook, a lawyer I had known for ten years. Through my tears, I begged her to help me sue my husband for marriage fraud. Angeline sighed, almost as if she were relieved. "So you finally know. The truth is, I forged your marriage papers all those years ago. You were never legally married. Just consider it a good deed and let them have this." The phone slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor. Everyone had known. They had all kept the truth from me and watched me suffer. At my lowest point, I had nearly died. Still, not one of them had told me the truth. I reached out and touched my daughter's memorial photo. The glass felt cold beneath my fingertips. A violent cough seized me, and blood-flecked foam rose in my throat. I forced it back down and let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. I won't intrude." My bone cancer had already spread throughout my body anyway. I had only days left to live.

Mom, Dad, and Jesse—my younger sister—went out to sea on a trip, but they were caught in a tsunami, and all three perished in the accident. I was left all alone—just as I was about to start university—burdened with nothing but a mountain of debt. In the end, everything I had saved for my university tuition, along with the house Mom and Dad had left me, was taken by debt collectors. I was then forced to work in a shady factory, laboring 16 hours a day, sleeping in a shabby ten-person dorm, and surviving on nothing but thin, flavorless broth. I finally cleared the last of the debt when I accidentally discovered that Jesse—who was supposed to be dead—had appeared on television and become a famous dancer. Mom and Dad even gave an interview about her success. It turned out they had taken out a massive loan and faked their deaths to flee to Pravia for Jesse's dance studies, leaving the entire debt for me to deal with just as I was supposed to start university. I went to confront them, demanding the truth, but they threw me out like trash. I was then hit and killed by a speeding truck at the side of the road. "How could Lorraine be such a nuisance, not even having the decency to die far away from our doorstep?" I have been given another chance, reborn on the day they faked their deaths.

By the third year of Waylon Ratliff's affair, I had completely lost my mind. I leaked private photos of his assistant, Jenna Gilmore, all over the internet. Then, I poured gasoline over myself and threatened to drag everyone down with me. Jenna was so terrified that she fled the city that very night. I thought I'd won. Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. To cover my legal fees and compensation claims, my brother sold his house. When that still wasn't enough, he turned to loan sharks. Eventually, the debt became too much for him to bear, and he jumped from the roof of a high-rise. The last thing he left behind was a voice recording. His voice was hoarse and exhausted. "Sydney, please stop. There's nothing left. Mom and Dad have already lost everything. They've aged overnight. I can't do this anymore..." My mom clutched his belongings to her chest and cried until she passed out. Meanwhile, my dad seized my throat with his trembling, slim hands, yelling until his voice broke. "How many more people do you need to ruin before you're satisfied?" Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, and that was when I finally came to my senses. After that, I stopped obsessively investigating every woman who got close to Waylon. I stopped demanding an explanation every time I found a lipstick stain on his collar. One night, I even caught him staring at an old photo of Jenna. The longing in his eyes was obvious, but instead of making a scene, I told him to bring her back. Then, Jenna's birthday came around. As she blew out the candles, she made a wish. She wanted to be Mrs. Ratliff for real, even if it was only once. So I printed out the divorce papers, signed every page, and placed them in front of her. Waylon snatched them away before she could touch them and ripped them in half. Then, he seized my chin and forced me to look at him, his gaze piercing. "What happened to you, Sydney? You used to swear you'd rather die than divorce me. So where did all that stubbornness go?"

I wheel myself into the birthday celebration that Wales Price has thrown for me. The atmosphere is originally lively, but a brief silence descends when everyone sees me. The guests are there for different purposes, but celebrating my birthday is not one of them. "Is that Mr. Price's crippled fiancée, Joey Hertza?" "Yeah, but the one he really loves is Anna Giovanni. I saw them kissing in a corner earlier." They use their wine glasses to block their mouths as they speak loudly. They think I'm still the crippled deaf I used to be. They don't know that I regained my hearing last week. I can hear every mocking comment they make. Meanwhile, Wales stands there and allows it to happen. He doesn't stop the guests from talking about me. He seems to have forgotten that I only ended up like this while protecting him. I shoved him away when the accident happened and got trapped underneath the car myself. When I was rescued, Wales swore to stay with me and care for me for life. It's only been three short years since then, but he's already changed. I receive a message on my phone. "Ms. Hertza, the lifelike corpse that you've ordered is now complete. Reply to this message with your confirmation, and your death-faking service will be immediately effective. We will send the corpse to your and Mr. Price's wedding in five days." I don't even hesitate as I reply with my confirmation. Enjoy your wedding, Wales.

My sister, Winona Clarke, was stabbed to death by a thug in order to save me. My mom, Amber Green, does not want my nephew, Sonny Cohen, to suffer. So, she suggests that I marry my brother-in-law, Kenneth Cohen, and take care of the father and son. For Sonny's safety, I end up on the verge of death due to Kenneth's relentless and merciless torture. Just then, Winona, who should have been dead, returns! Her arm linked with a millionaire's, she boasts to me, "Thank you for putting up with that maniac and sticking around until he died. Not only did you help me raise Sonny, who has Super Male Syndrome, but you even made it possible for me to inherit all of Kenneth's assets through Sonny." Sonny joins Winona in belittling me and even spreads rumors that I killed Kenneth. Because of her lies, I become notorious online and eventually die while being the subject of everyone's criticism and ridicule. The heavens must have taken mercy on me, for I am granted a second chance at life. Now, I am back to the day Mom wants me to marry Kenneth.

In our most loving year, Hugh Thorne and I make a pact that neither of us will ever ask for a divorce—because whoever does will end his or her own life. I immediately grab a pair of scissors and stab him in the neck when he first tells me that he wants to give Beatrice Lane, my heartbroken best friend, a home. He repeatedly brings up divorce over the next two years, while I repeatedly refuse to let him go. Then, after his 99th attempt to get a divorce fails, Hugh jumps into the river. Everyone claims I am a madwoman and a jinx who killed her husband. Mom and Dad cut ties with me and take in Beatrice as their goddaughter. I am completely on my own after that. I work three jobs a day to make ends meet and raise Nicholas White, the child Hugh and I share. It is the third year after Hugh's death, and I receive a call from a former classmate of mine. "Are you coming to the class reunion this weekend, Mia? Hugh will be there too." In that instant, my mind goes completely blank. I can barely hold the phone because my hand is shaking so hard. It turns out that Hugh is still alive! My former classmate excitedly explains over the phone, "We're doing something different this time! Everyone has to bring something that will surprise the others, and whoever loses has to pay for the meal!" I have to bring something that will surprise everyone, huh? I hang up the phone and instantly arrange for someone to draft a divorce agreement for me.

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?]