Fake Death Novels & Stories

"What exactly did I do wrong?" Dad's expression darkened. "Don't tell me five years haven't been enough to teach you how hard it is to make a living. We faked our deaths and moved abroad just to make you realize the truth. There will come a day when you won't be able to earn a thing, and every last penny will be gone." Then, his tone softened. "It's just as well that you finally understand. At least now we don't have to stay away from home anymore."

She turned slowly, as if the words had reached her late. “You thought she was faking,” she said. Adrian’s face went gray. “She said it was cranberry juice.” My father closed his eyes. A medical examiner arrived later with a preliminary report. She did not repeat what the paramedics had already said. She only added the part they had not known. “The trial compound appears to have triggered acute kidney failure, followed by cardiac arrest. Her body was already severely depleted before she took it.” My mother lifted her head. “Depleted?”

We squealed like children, spinning each other just slightly, laughing in disbelief and emotion. “Do you know how I cried when I heard you were dead?” Myla whispered, still clinging to me. I pulled back, brows furrowed. “Why does everyone keep saying that? ‘Dead’?” She blinked at me, her face pale with memory. “Because there was a body, Zoey. A body. Someone made sure it looked like you died. Like you were gone for good.” My eyes widened, and a chill rolled down my back. “A body?”

He paused deliberately, his eyes flickering ever so subtly in my direction. The room fell deathly silent. Everyone waited, holding their breath for the final pronouncement. "Murder." The word hit like a thunderclap, echoing in the shocked silence. Chaos erupted once more, the noise from the reporters deafening, while online, the live stream chat exploded with comments: "Sabrina is dead!?" "No way! How is this possible?!" "Murder? What is he saying? That Arianna and Charles killed her?" "OMG, this is wild!"

The accident from four years ago had left my face completely shattered and bruised, and I was forced to undergo surgery that replaced my face entirely. I’d struck a deal with the doctor after my surgery and had made him announce me as ‘dead.’ After all, I was going to die in a few years, and I wanted to take my revenge before I took my last breath on earth. The news of my ‘fake’ demise had spread like a wildfire, and I saw it in the headlines, in the news, and heard it on the lips of people who wagged their tongues. ‘Ex-wife of billionaire, Danielle Foster Harrington, dies after a brutal car crash.’

"She couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. When I saw that... it scared me... I wanted to call a doctor, an ambulance, someone to help. She called me over, to-told me to sit down and listen carefully. She said she wanted me to promise her something before she goes..." Damien let out a sigh and wiped his tears. Ashleigh could feel tears building up in her eyes too. "She said I should promise to move on and continue being a good man... promise to live life to the fullest and not let anything stop me from doing so... be it sickness, be it poverty, be it loss, I should take it all as it comes. "I promised her I would then she... sh-she closed her eyes a-a-and that was it. She just... died...

I know that magic is just an illusion, a trick. Dusting my clothes, I made my way toward my team. They had now assembled themselves in one place, their eyes still holding surprise, and I could guess that they were waiting for me to explain. The crowds were as silent as a graveyard. They weren't making any of their stupid noises, and I am sure they were still trying to recover from the shock of seeing me again. That made me remember a story in the Bible that our Sunday school teacher told us about. It was the story of a man named Lazarus who was resurrected from the dead. The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an

“She didn’t lie, Chloe. Luanne is really dead. So, how do you plan to make up for what you did to her? Should I break your legs? Drain your blood? Burn you to a crisp? Or run you over with a car?” Chloe’s face turned deathly pale from sheer terror, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. “G-Greg, what are you talking about? I… I don’t understand.” Greg snickered as he reached out, choked her by the neck, and said, “I said, Luanne is dead. So, you must be pretty thrilled, aren’t you?” Chloe managed to break free from Greg’s grip, coughing violently. “Greg, what on earth are you saying? How could Luanne possibly be dead? Didn’t we see her last night?”

I said, the horror of it sinking in. "Or," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "they moved her because she wasn't dead." The room spun. Faking her death. It was absurd, theatrical, impossibly risky. And perfectly, grotesquely Malice. "But why? And how?" I stammered.

"You're an orphan with no family ties. Serve a few years inside, and I'll pay you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. When you're out, I'll handle everything." He paused, his eyes narrowing behind the lenses. "But if you refuse, I'll use every resource at my disposal to ensure you can't survive in this city. And all the money I've given you? It will be reclaimed." Money... He knew it was both my weakness and my armor. My tears splashed onto the confession paper as I trembled from head to toe. The system prompted: "Host's acting skills at Oscar level. Strategy mission enters final settlement phase. Prepare for Faking Death exit."