Contos de Romance com Hypocrisy e Romances com Fake Death

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.

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.

My fiancé proposes to my stepsister Thalia Yates in front of everyone at our engagement party. Furious, I pack my stuff and leave home. That's when Jude Pearson, heir to an international medical group, entered my life. He's a surgeon rumored to have zero interest in women. Yet he pursued me passionately for six months. Eventually, I accepted his proposal. For seven years after our wedding, he's been gentle and considerate, always putting my needs first. Then, I overhear his phone conversation with his mother, Helena Roberts. "Jude, it's been seven years, but you still have no kids. It's time for a divorce." "Since I couldn't marry Thalia, it doesn't matter who I married instead. I'll keep playing this role forever. As long as I'm around, she'll never be able to intrude upon Thalia's happiness." That's when the truth hits me—Jude has given up the family business to become a surgeon just to treat Thalia's heart condition. Our years of marriage are actually his way of protecting Thalia from afar. If that's the case, then I'll disappear from their world and let my absence be their happy ending.