Corpse Bride Dead Novels & Stories

Losing her like this… I couldn’t imagine surviving such pain. She looked at me with swollen red eyes. “She is gone. My Mellisa. She just wanted to be your bride, your Luna. But they took that from her.” Her voice trembled like a dying whisper. “They?” I wanted to ask, but she was grieving, and I couldn’t press her. Unfortunately, Mellisa wasn’t the only corpse. I opened the next covered body, and my breath caught. His skin was pallid, almost decomposing, and a vicious bite-like wound marked his neck. The same signature.

“Revenge.” “What?” “It's simple, Steph. Your life was almost ruined because of your fiancé and his secretary. Don't you want revenge on them?” He asked, his voice holding a mischievous edge and I shuddered “I do. But—” “Disappeare for two years, Stephanie. Your death certificate will be signed. Stephanie will die today. But you'll return as a different woman. As my wife.” He explained, and I froze in shock. “What?”

Theodora Althea Corazon, a woman buried six feet below the ground and now the living corpse bride of a man, The Mafioso's Corpse Bride.

Others said the sea had taken her and accepted it. Dominic did not. Because every area searched turned up nothing. No corpse. No blood, no clothing or trace. Only the bracelet he had given her, which he knew she had cherished as well. That only clue haunted him. What if she didn’t die? What if she survived long enough to suffer alone? What if someone took her? The uncertainty infected him. After the confrontation with Isabelle and stripping her of everything except the Valtieri name, Dominic’s world narrowed to silence. He cut off unnecessary meetings. He spoke only when required. He buried himself in work and ran the Valtieri empire with lethal efficiency.

On it: a shallow basin, empty now, stained dark with centuries of spilled blood. Seraphine appeared beside the basin, fading, translucent. “Speak the vow,” she said. “Blood of the bridge. Tear of the betrayed. Kiss of life. Seal it here, where it began.” Elara drew the fang again, held it high. “I, Elara Thorne-Blackthorn, bridge of the split packs, bleed willingly,” she said, voice ringing off the walls. She sliced deeper, blood flowing freely now, letting it drip into the basin. Silver droplets hissed on contact, steam rising like spirits released.

I screamed as the firelight drenched them, revealing transparent skeletons instead of their elegant silhouettes, dressed in tattered shrouds like grave-bound corpses. Without warning, Corpseboy grabbed an apple and shoved it into my mouth. I bit down reflexively. As its juices drenched my mouth, the skeletons became flesh, their rags turning into clothes. I was confronted by a whole retinue of noble-looking men and women dressed in elegant gowns and old-fashioned suits, eying me with disdain. Corpseboy, oblivious to their disapproval, grinned widely. “See, Callie? Nothing to be afraid of. Now come along or the tea will grow cold.” “They're dead,” I whispered in horror.

In other words, while they all believed that I'd run away from home in a fit of anger, trashed up Arianna's dress in jealousy, and poisoned her out of spite, I had been quietly dead in the basement all along. I watched them in their chaotic state and wondered if they even had the capacity to consider the underlying issues and loopholes with their previous beliefs. My body was carried out on a stretcher, covered in a white cloth. While passing through the living room, Giusto suddenly rushed forward and yanked off the sheet. The face on the corpse was deathly pale, the eyes half-open with unfocused pupils, and a congealed streak of dark brown blood on the lips. The wedding dress was also stain

No fireworks. Just finality. The crowd erupts in applause. I smile for the cameras, for the legacy, for the lies. But inside? I’m already tearing it all down. I am now Mrs. Vitali. And part one of my father’s plan is complete. But this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning. And someone in this story just tried to kill the wrong bride.

Whatever the case was, it was at that moment when Master Greendrake—together with Master Trilight and the others—came running in before saying, “…Hmm? So you’re both here, Mr. Crawford! Miss Quarrington! In fact, it seems quite a number of you are here as well! Good. I was planning to gather all of you to discuss this anyway!” Before anyone could ask what he meant by that, they soon saw a corpse being carried into the room… and upon seeing it, Gerald couldn’t help but frown. The corpse had gone as black as charcoal, and a distinct row of teeth marks could be seen around its neck… Adding that to the fact that the corpse’s primordial spirit had been completely drained, it was evident that the

“Your sister’s dumber than at five. Back then, she chased me through the roses, shouting ‘Cae!’ Now she just stares like I’m a ghost.” My brother rolled his eyes. “Shut up! Whose idea was the fake-death ritual? Your overzealous majordomo insists on using half-dead corpses as props! Now everyone thinks you eat hearts!” He jabbed a finger, grinning: “This bastard’s a pureblood vampire— but he only drinks tomato juice mixed with dragon blood! Those six ‘brides’? All political decoys. Sent to convents with dowries!