Corpse Husband Real Name Novels & Stories

She crashed to the floor with a sickening thud, and I felt a burning pain rip through my heart. Margaret had treated him like her own son all these years, never once neglecting him. Not even the wicked would hurt their own. Didn't Calvin fear the price he'd have to pay? After drilling a large hole into the casket, the bodyguards finally pried it open. Inside, they found nothing but a death certificate. "Clarissa Levine. Female. "Cause of death: Car accident, ruptured spleen. "Died: August 30th, 2023."

"Everyone, I am devastated by the tragic death of my son. But all of this was a conspiracy!" He tearfully accused me, "My wife, Penelope Harper, married me from the start just to scheme for the Warren family fortune! She deliberately switched the two boys' clothes to trick me into making a mistake, then used it as an excuse to team up with my father and steal everything I had in the company!" He even dragged out Celeste, who had been kicked out of the Warren family mansion and was equally desperate, to testify for him.

He grasped Alia’s hand, his voice brimming with emotion, “My dear, you’re awake! Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Alia’s eyes widened, her breath catching in shock. Her mind went blank, and for a moment, the pain in her chest vanished. She knew this man—she could never forget him. He was the very same man who, just last night, had murdered his wife and shot at her, the castle’s cold-blooded killer—Marcellus!

"I have the coroner's file, Christopher. The blood type on record doesn't match the body you personally identified and buried. I know you signed off on a corpse that was never your wife. I want to know why, and I want the truth, not whatever version of it your legal team has prepared for exactly this scenario." The garage tilted slightly under my feet, the fluorescent lights suddenly too bright, too loud in a way lights shouldn't be able to feel. "I don't know what you're talking about." "You do." Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "You stood in a morgue and identified a woman you claimed was your wife, knowing full well what her blood type was, because you'd have needed to know it to

As I was rummaging through the trash for leftovers, my wife, who had died three years ago, suddenly showed up. She stepped out of the Voyce and looked down at me from above. “Honey, you really did pass my test.” I was holding some moldy stale bread. I stared at her in bewilderment. It turned out that three years ago, at a class reunion, the school heartthrob she had once dated had suggested it. “I wanted to see if your love is real.”

However, Tommy withdrew his hand from her grip and looked at Margot, saying, "He's telling the truth." "What did you say?" Margot turned to look at the two men by her side, feeling even more puzzled. Tommy told her the truth, saying, "Margot, you were really sick back then. After you recovered, you actually forgot about him." Tommy looked at Margot and tentatively said, "The truth is, Curtis is your husband." Margot was rendered speechless. Curtis was her husband? To her astonishment, Curtis Crosby, the 30-year-old CEO of Regal Enterprises, renowned for his unparalleled wealth, was, in fact, her husband.

But the more I read, the more shocking facts I discovered. Her husband’s name was Lazar Sokolov. Something about the name itched at my memory, it felt so familiar but I could not seem to recall where I had heard it before. I inspected the picture of her husband for a long time. While simultaneously reading the note that the investigator had left behind. “He owns a large construction firm that operates both locally and abroad. Not much about him is public, but he’s very wealthy, a wealthy billionaire. He prefers to stay out of the media, that is why his picture is nowhere to be seen in the media.” He wrote.

Like everyone else, Darby Caughill probably has very good reason to dislike me greatly. But luckily for me, she doesn’t need to like me. She just needs to marry me. I swivel in my desk chair with my cell gripped tightly in my fist. The urge to hurl it at the wall is monstrous. I guess I’ve earned my nicknames. They call me Monster Montague. That or my favorite Lord Lee On Poo, shortened down over the months to Lord Poo. The first has a nice ring to it. I don’t mind it at all. The second irks me, but only because the people who work for me can’t say my last name, which is part of the name of the damn company they work for. They’re calling it Mont-a-gue, not Mon-tag, which is the right way to

He stood up from his seat and replied, “He is my husband and has nothing to do with you.” I tried to calm her down. I pulled his hand, showing for him to sit back and listen to my explanation. “Calm down. May I know your name? My husband had an accident and disappeared a few months ago. Until now they have not found him. To be honest, your husband’s body, face, and hair are very similar to my husband's. I don’t mean to be mean. I just want to know what his name is.” “My name is Stacey. And where did I find him? Don’t you also want to ask about this,” he replied unfriendly.

He left while Sarah keeps looking at his retreating back, she asked in disbelief: "What happened to him suddenly . Sarah maybe he is Arham's duplicate " They are in the car and Sarah keeps looking at him keenly. Finally, she asked: "Are you Arham's duplicate ".He first gets shocked listening to her but then he starts laughing: "You are very funny Sarah, I am your one and only husband ". Sarah frowned and said: "Can you please stop calling yourself, again and again as my husband, it was so irritating ".Arham stops the car and turns to her. He brings his mouth near her ears, her heartbeat keeps increasing: "So, get used to this after all I love addressing you as my wife and see your irritati