Fake Slackers Novels & Stories

I knew my husband, Josh Perkins, had faked his death and taken on his younger twin brother's identity—but I never said a word. Instead, I went straight to the commander of the military district and filed an official report of my husband's death, requesting his name be permanently removed from the service rolls. In my last life, my brother-in-law died in an accident. Josh gave up his rank as regimental commander, abandoned his own name, and stepped into his brother's shoes—all to spare his fragile sister-in-law from becoming a widow. Back then, I recognized him immediately. I confronted him and demanded to know why he was pretending to be a dead man. But Josh just looked through me, cold as a winter morning. "Riley, I know you're grieving Josh. But I'm not him. Don't mistake me for my brother." He shielded that delicate sister-in-law of his behind him, then shoved me into the icy river and warned me not to harbor delusions. Later, our five-year-old daughter cried, asking why her daddy didn't want her anymore. For that, she was dragged to the cowshed for "reflection"—left there, starving, for three days and nights. My mother-in-law called me a curse, a jinx who'd killed her son, and threw my daughter and me out with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Josh made sure everyone knew I'd "gone mad"—that I was lusting after my brother-in-law before my husband was even cold in the ground. The whole town turned their backs on us. That last winter, I wandered the streets with my girl, dazed and numb, until the cold finally took us both. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day Josh buried his old life and stole his brother's.

The day my birth parents found me, the reunion banquet they threw turned into their funeral. My parents and their adopted daughter, Leila, died of food poisoning that night. The only one who survived was my older brother, Alpha Kian. He didn’t like sweets, so he never touched the cake. The cake that I handed to them myself. “So you want to take Leila’s place. “You’re just jealous because she got all our love! “She was the only one who ever accepted you, and you still killed her!” Those were Kian’s exact words as he shouted at me right outside the hospital room. From that day on, I became a sinner. To make up for it, I barely slept four hours a night and worked five jobs just to buy back the villa the rival pack seized during the chaos. However, the day I finally saved up enough, I saw my dead parents throwing a birthday party for Leila in that very villa. Kian stood among them, looking at her with a warmth I didn’t recognize. My mother said, “Isn’t today also Lily’s birthday? It’s been eight years. Maybe it’s time to forgive her.” However, Kian didn’t hesitate to refuse. “No. Even though Leila sniffed out the wolfsbane and saved you, we agreed that Lily gets ten years. “We can’t risk her ever trying to poison Leila again. Not even a day less.” I clutched the diagnosis paper from the clinic tightly and laughed through my tears. I knew I wouldn’t get to ten years. I was already dying.

After a venomous snake bites me, my husband, Daniel Dawson, injects the only antivenom into my adopted sister, Grace Winton. Before I black out, I see my parents, Daniel, and my son, Ethan Dawson, all gathered around Grace, while I lie alone on the grass, completely ignored. When I come to, my colleague shakes his head and tells me the toxin has already spread. Within 48 hours, my body will begin to rot from the inside, and I'll die in unbearable pain. I give up the conservative plan and swallow a potent painkiller instead. Over the next two days, I transfer the hospital my grandfather gave me and every asset in my name to Grace. I divorce Daniel and place both his and Ethan's hands into Grace's. When I put Grace's name on the amyotrophic lateral sclerosis treatment protocol I've spent five years developing, they finally smile, hold my hand, and tell me we're finally a real family. I stay silent and only smile at them. I wonder what their faces will look like two days later when they see my body.

After the 100th failed fertility treatment, my husband, who had been previously diagnosed with a low sperm count, spoke coldly. “Lucy is very fertile. She gets pregnant after our first time, unlike you. You just can’t conceive.” Lucy was my adoptive sister. While holding her hand, he laid out three options for me. I could either ignore their affair and retain my title as the CEO’s wife, take the ten million dollars and disappear, or walk away with nothing at all. The whole town knew how proud I was. They also knew how deeply I loved him. They surely expected me to be mad with jealousy and choose honor over compromise. But I neither cried nor made a scene. I calmly slid the check back across the table. “The child will call me Mom. I’ll stay and be Mrs. Carter.” After all, this was my third time to live such a life. The first time, I chose to leave with nothing but my dignity. The second time, I took the money, but had to live in shame. Both decisions ended in tragedy. For the third time, perhaps three of us could just... make it work.

They took her inheritance, her dignity, and her fated mate. They should have taken her life while they had the chance. In the Silver Crest Pack, Elora is a ghost—a "disaster child" forced to serve the very family that eclipsed her light. For years, she endured the systematic theft of her life by her sister, Bella. From her mother’s heirloom ring to the dress she slaved to buy for the Scarlet Ball, Elora gave it all up because she was told she was "nothing." But the final blow is the deadliest: finding her fated Alpha mate in the arms of her sister on the eve of their ascension. Driven into the freezing wilderness, Elora doesn't die. Instead, she awakens a bloodline so ancient it was thought to be a myth. As the Primordial White Wolf, she possesses the power to "deprive"—to strip the land of its fertility and the unworthy of their strength. She isn't alone in the shadows. Waiting for her are three "Shadow Betas"—lethal, rejected outcasts who were once the pack’s foot soldiers. Bound to her by a bond stronger than fate, they are the blades she will use to dismantle the Silver Crest Pack piece by piece. Elora is no longer the forgotten princess. She is the Queen of the Outcasts, and she is coming back to reclaim everything that was stolen.

There was a fire in my house. After I risked my life to save my parents, who were the richest people in the country, multiple media outlets wanted to interview me. Faced with the journalists' questions, my parents said that they would fulfill any of my wishes. Their adopted daughter, Lily Jackson, thought that I would use this chance to drive her away, and her eyes had begun to turn red. But I just looked at the camera and said coldly, "I want to sever all ties with the Jackson family, and I want all of you to be witnesses of my decision." The crowd went into an uproar. My parents were infuriated. The journalists wanted to ask some more questions, but I just started packing my luggage. Only I was aware that I was reborn. During my previous life, I took the chance of this interview to drive Lily out of the family. Not long after she was taken away by her biological parents, they sold her to a man, and she died a terrible death within her husband's house. My parents pretended like they didn't care and said to me that it was Lily's fate, but in truth, they secretly started poisoning my food. After the poison killed me, they placed my body in front of Lily's grave in a position as if I was on my knees and apologizing to her. They made me pay for Lily's death with my life. "If you hadn't driven Lily away, Lily wouldn't have met such a terrible fate! You should pay for what happened to her with your life!" That was the last thing I heard, and I became completely disappointed with them. But when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was reborn and went back to the day of the fire.

Two years after the death of my husband, John Foster, I get a video call from him—except it's him from five years in the future. "John! You're still alive! Tell me where you are. I'm coming now to bring you home!" Crying tears of joy, I scramble to pick up the car keys I dropped, only to hear him say, "Actually, I faked my death to be with your friend…" As my mind goes blank, he continues to tell me everything as if none of it is a big deal. "I attended my funeral. The whole time you were crying beside my casket, I was in the back room with Adaline, getting it on with her. You thought her eyes were red because she was crying in grief. "Oh, my mother and our son know that I faked my death, too. Every year, they've found all kinds of excuses to come spend time with us instead…" My blood turns cold. My hand shakes as I clutch the phone. Meanwhile, John exhales, looking like he has taken a load off his chest. "I've already told you the truth about everything now, Cecilia, so it's up to you whether you want to continue living like a widow."

Married to Enzo for three years, his heart had always belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Bianca. The cut of the family business that was rightfully mine became her jewelry, and the keepsakes my brother Luca left behind were casually gifted to her by Enzo. I gave him everything, yet I remained invisible. I chose to step aside, turn my back, and vanish from his world completely. After that, the cold-hearted man lost control. He tore Little Italy apart looking for me, begging me to return. But this time, I’m never going back.

I've always been frail by nature. Taking two consecutive steps can make me gasp for air. If I cough, there's a chance there's blood accompanying it. When I'm seven years old, a homeless man in Bronzeton tries to snatch a half-eaten piece of bread from me. I lie on the ground as I convulse like a dying fish with foam gathering at my mouth. My eyes have rolled to the back of my head as well, as though my seizure is acting up. Thinking that I've gotten infected with some sort of disease, the homeless man is so frightened that he flees from Novarra overnight. When I'm ten years old, a delinquent tries to demand protection money from me. I react by spitting dark blood at his face. The poor guy screams at the top of his lungs as he runs down the street, only to get mistaken as a murderer by a police officer who happens to pass by the area. Since then, everyone avoids me like plague on the street. They aren't scared of me—they are terrified that they might get into trouble because of me. No one knows who my parents are. I've grown up in a rundown motel, and my adoptive mother is a stripper who used to be famous. Whenever she gets drunk, she often tells me, "Your father is a mafia Don." I've always thought that she's just running her mouth purely out of drunkenness. That is, until a black limo stops in front of me on the year I turn 18 years old. Three men clad in black suits get out of the limo. The leader sinks down on one knee right in front of me, his voice quivering as he speaks. "We finally found you, Ms. Salvatore. Your father is Vittorio Salvatore, the Don of one of the biggest mafia families in Novarra." At first, I think this is just a scamming scheme. That is, until I'm taken to the estate located on Lacreth Isle that's six acres wide and sports iron gates with the Salvatore insignia carved into them. On my first day home, the fake heiress, Serena Salvatore, purposefully releases the fearsome family dog in the estate just to intimidate me. That dog keeps barking at me, frightening me to the point that I spit out blood on the spot before collapsing to the ground. My mother, Rosalina Vitelli, almost loses her mind over my collapse. But my older brother, Marco Salvatore, shouts at me angrily instead. "Why are you playing dead? You made Serena cry because of your antics!" His voice is so loud that I feel as though my eardrums are going to burst anytime soon. Even my heart feels as though an invisible hand is gripping it tightly. My eyes roll to the back of my head instantly as my body crashes on the spot. Mamma flies into a rampage and almost beats Marco to death for scaring me. Having witnessed everything, Serena kicks up a fuss by attempting to commit suicide at the estate's clock tower just so she can apologize to me. In order to prove his love to Serena, my fiance, Luca Moretti, drags me forcibly to the top of the clock tower so that Serena can do whatever she wants to me. The thing is, the winds are strong on the top of the clock tower. That's when I accidentally slip and topple over the railing. My parents, who are looking everywhere for me, happen to be around the clock tower when I crash onto the spot near them. This time, my bruised and broken body is completely drenched in blood. Shell-shocked, they remain rooted to the spot as they stare at me in bewilderment. Then, they let out blood-curdling screams.

Three nights ago, I was locked inside my own family’s underground wine cellar. When my congenital heart condition hit, I called my husband, Zane Corleone, and begged him to come save me. He didn’t come. Instead, he stayed with another woman all night because she was afraid of the dark—and told me to stop faking it for attention. That was the moment I finally understood. If he cared that much about her, then I would do the one thing neither of them expected. I would make room for her. In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.