Historias cortas de Bias Romance y novelas ambientadas en Fake Death

Three months after my husband, Josiah Erikson, disappears in a skiing accident, I spot him in a bar. He's laughing freely with an arm slung casually around his "best friend", Monica Jones' shoulders. "Good thing you came up with the idea. I'd almost forgotten what freedom feels like." One after another, his buddies clink glasses with him and ask about when he plans to reappear. He looks down and thinks about it before saying, "In a week. I'll show up once she's gone completely crazy searching for me." Standing in the shadows, I watch him savor his freedom, then call my friend who works at the state vital records office.

I'm dying at seven months pregnant, and the one behind it is my husband. Hearing that a premature baby's blood can save my sister, he conspires with a shady clinic to take the baby out through surgery. After draining the baby's blood, he walks away—leaving my fragile preemie to die. Later, my parents say, "You owe Yvie. It's time to repay her." My husband says, "We can always have another child. A baby's life can't possibly be more important than Yvie's, can it? The overwhelming rage and grief cause me to bleed to death. My soul floats above them as I watch them prepare my sister's surgery. They don't even bother to change me into clean clothes. No one mourns me. No one loses their mind over my death. Without a care, they wheel me into the morgue and celebrate Yvonne's recovery. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back three months earlier—to the day my whole family forced me to divorce.

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.

After three years in a psychiatric hospital, I finally escape. Three years ago, I watched my fiance, Ethan Cregger, die in a car accident right in front of me. Already born with a heart condition, I spiraled under the weight of grief. Then everything else fell apart. My family lost everything. Dad seemed to age overnight. Mom cried until there were no tears left. Adrian Mercer, my childhood friend, gave up the money he'd saved to study abroad just to pay for my treatment. Even my younger sister, Mia Bennett, worked three jobs and begged me through tears not to give up on life. Not wanting to burden them any further, I voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital. Three years later, I finally make my way back to our old family estate, now supposedly sold, for one reason. I want the bottle of wine Ethan and I buried together years ago. But through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I see a dead man—Ethan. He is alive and well, with his arm wrapped around my sister. My parents look happier and healthier than ever. Adrian is placing a birthday hat on the young boy standing between them. Everyone claps and sings, gathered around the cake like one big, happy family. And suddenly, I understand. Ethan never died. He simply built a new life with my sister. While I spent three years trapped in the past, everyone I love moved on without me. They created an entire lie just for me. Fine. If they've already decided there's no place for me in their lives, then I don't want them anymore.

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?"

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?]

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."

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.

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?"

When the traitor opened fire, Jules McKenna threw herself between me and the bullet. She grabbed the shooter, dragged him off the pier with her, and the two of them went down together. Neither one came back up. The day her body was pulled from the water, I knelt until the gravel bit into my knees. I swore that whoever was behind it would pay in blood. Three years later, I hung the heads of the ten men left from that syndicate outside my front gate, a warning to anyone who might get ideas. People respected me. They feared me. They called me the ruthless tyrant of Hallahan City, a man who'd kill without blinking. On the anniversary of Jules's death, I bought myself a bottle of poison and carried it down to the pier where she'd died. I was about to drink it when a wedding boat pulled in. I spotted my own men climbing aboard, so I followed, quiet and unseen. I never expected what I'd find. Standing on the deck in a bride's gown was Jules, my fiancée I'd believed dead for years, and beside her was Nicolas Bernstein, the one sworn brother I cared for the most. The two of them were locked in a deep kiss while everyone around them cheered. I froze where I stood. Carter Robinson, who'd followed me for twelve years, spotted me first, and the color drained from his face. "Boss... don't do anything rash. Jules is pregnant." Travis Kress, who'd watched me grow up since I was a boy, stepped in front of Nicolas to talk me down. "Max, I'm the one who called Jules and Nicolas back. It's because you're so controlling that they had to fake their deaths just to get away from you. "You're the head of the harbor now. For my sake, just let them have this." I looked at my own men, every one of them standing between me and the two people on that deck, and I said nothing. A second later, I put a bullet through the engine. The boat went dead in the water. "Anyone who betrays me only gets one way out. Jump into the sea, or die by my hand. Who wants to go first?"

For ten years, I lived as an invisible daughter in my own family. My parents and brother never forgave me for the death of Emily, the adopted daughter they truly loved. They gave me a room, money, and their last name—but never their affection. When our cruise ship sank, they sacrificed themselves to save me. For one foolish moment, I thought it meant they had finally chosen me. Then my brother spoke his last words. “We’ve regretted bringing you home for years. If we hadn’t found you, Emily would still be alive.” “If there’s another life, please don’t come looking for us again.” Only then did I understand. They hadn’t saved me because they loved me. They were only repaying the daughter they wished they had never found. So I released the life ring and let the ocean take me. When I opened my eyes, I was back before the day I reunited with my biological family. This time, they remembered our previous life too. Certain I would still beg to become their daughter, they offered me money, a house, and a place in their lives—as long as Emily remained their only daughter in public. They thought I would eventually accept. They didn’t know I had decided to give them exactly what they wanted—a life in which I never became their daughter.

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

When I hear my boyfriend, Terence Bowen, is trapped in a house fire, I immediately rush back to save him. However, after dragging him out with all my strength, I realize it's just a dummy. Laughter erupts from the house next door. "Ariana Brock is such a fool! She fell for it again!" Through a half-open window, I spot Terence lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely fine. "That's the 47th prank we've pulled on her. Three more to go and we're done." "Serves her right. She shouldn't have stolen Bethany Howard's scholarship. Bethany is the one Terence actually cares about. That's why he decided to fake a relationship with Ariana to get revenge 50 times over. Too bad the game will end soon." I bend over, gasping for air. All this time, the relationship I've worked so hard to protect is nothing but a game to them.

The day my wife, Michelle Austen, is killed in the line of duty, I swallow a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Her younger sister, Paige Austen, is the one who kicks down my door in tears and pulls me back from the brink of death. "You have to stay alive! Michelle wouldn't want you to do this!" Paige cries. From that day onward, this longtime nemesis of mine keeps her temper in check around me. She follows me everywhere, even when I'm just taking out the trash. I think I've finally moved past the darkness and started falling for her. One day, I get my medical results back. I want to tell her that my doctor says my condition has finally stabilized. Instead, I find a marriage certificate hidden in the back of her drawer. The marriage was registered in Magosta five years ago. The bride is my ex-wife, who is supposed to be dead. The groom is my brother, Jack Sloane, who always claims he's against marriage. The date is the exact same day I tried to kill myself. Beside the marriage certificate is an old phone. On it is a message my brother sent the day before. "Thank you for keeping an eye on him all these years and making sure he never found out. Michelle and I are very happy together." My fingers clench around the medical report until they ache. It feels like the floor has dropped out from under me. The person I thought had saved me turns out to be part of a five-year scheme to keep me in the dark.