Novel & Cerita Fake Death

He ignored the creature and kept walking, hoping that in ignoring him, he would leave him alone. “One of the men you made to choke the other day has died at the hospital. Guess which people are accused of killing him with witchcraft,” the man said again and Jason’s heart skipped a bit. “What are you saying?” he asked, turning to the man. “Nothing, bro,” Grant said, walking past Jason, then turning to look at him funny. Jason’s eyes were fixed on somewhere else and not him. He did not know what to make of it, so he continued walking. The latter had not seen him walk past.

How could a dead person have pushed her? However, Dad believed her. He walked over and gently wrapped his arms around Ms. Ritter. "Don't cry, I'm here. I won't let him bully you anymore," he said as he patted her back. I froze abruptly and stared at Dad in a daze. He looked at my body lying on the floor with disgust. "Since he's so determined to play dead and get out of donating blood, then I won't cover for him either. Get back every drop that was spilled—insert the needle and draw his blood again. Let's see how much longer he can keep up this act!"

Soren was on his knees in the middle of the ruins, his hands hanging at his sides, blood dripping from his fingers. The warriors nearby did not dare come closer. They could only stand outside the wreckage, their eyes red-rimmed. Kaiden stumbled forward a few steps and looked at Soren, his face drained of color as he murmured. “How did this happen? Tell me this isn't real!” “Freya isn't dead! She hasn't even become my Luna yet. How could she be dead?” His wolf slammed wildly inside his mind, as if it wanted to tear out of his body and drag Freya back with its own claws. But all around him was the smell of wet ash and scorched earth. The fire had erased every trace of her scent.

I opened my eyes again and met my best friend Zoey’s worried gaze. “My poor baby, you’re finally awake. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you’d be in the underworld right now. “How did a simple rideshare job turn into this?” Looking at how frantic she was for me, tears immediately spilled down my face. I told her everything about Cedric’s fake death. By the time I finished, she was shaking with rage. “That b*stard! I’m going to have someone kill him right now.”

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

The memory answers before she can stop it. Her back against the concrete pillar. The dead closing in. One hand pressed to her bleeding arm. The bag gone. Dex gone. No rescue. No miracle. Just her, laughing once because of course this was how it ended, because if she had known betrayal came with this much paperwork she would have asked for a receipt. She had still tried to get up. Even then. Especially then. “That’s a flattering way to say I died stubborn.” It was a statistically significant death. A laugh escapes her before she can catch it. Small. Ugly. Almost nothing.

He hung up and sat on the sofa, screen dark. “Zoe, did you touch my money?” I looked at him. “You’re my husband. You ‘died,’ I inherited your estate. That’s only natural.” “I’m not dead!” He stood, voice rising. “I’m alive! Who gave you the right to touch my money?” “How can you prove you’re alive?” I asked softly. “Your name’s on the plane manifest, I collected your belongings, even held the memorial service. Who’d believe you?” His mouth opened, no words came.

“Do you know why I let you live this long?” She flinched. “Because,” I said, my smile cruel and beautiful, “letting you live, letting you watch everything you valued—your family, your money, your pride, your pathetic little crush—crumble to dust around you… forcing you to scrabble and suffer, slowly, for a very long time… is so much more interesting than letting you die. And so much more painful.” The words broke her. Completely. Her mind snapped. She staggered away, babbling.

"Lily, do you understand what you did wrong?" My father's cold words yanked me back to reality. I froze, my voice hoarse. "Wrong? What did I do wrong?" His expression darkened slightly. "Five years, and you still don't understand how hard it is to earn money? When we faked our deaths and went abroad, it was to teach you—money always runs out, one day there's no more to earn, one day there's nothing left to spend. Now you understand. Good—so we can return home."

"Then we turn it around. We make her think we're coming for Vince. Make it real. Let her prepare. Let her think she's already won." Alex raised an eyebrow. "And what's the bait?" I stepped back from the glass board, grabbing a marker. I circled the compound location and a heavy X through it. I circled my own name. "A death," I said. "Mine." The room went quiet. "You want to fake your death," Alex said. Slowly. Carefully. "Not just fake it," I said. "Sell it. Fake the collapse. Ambulance. Leaked video. Hospital lockdown. Death certificate. The whole nine yards."