Morte Falsa Novels & Stories

Miriam and Harriet turned around, only to see a middle-aged woman. Harriet frowned, about to confront the woman, but her friend laughed, taking out her phone. "Don't you know? They are fake. "Haven't you read the news? Felipe has announced Miriam's death. This woman is an imposter who wants her daughter to enter the Bass family. "They are delusional and shameless." The people gathered around them, joining in the criticism of Harriet and Miriam. Miriam turned pale and clutched her bag. Harriet turned livid and glared at the woman.

In the hall was another room lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a long wooden table covered in papers, photographs, and passports. Every passport displayed Camela’s face but carried a different name: “Camela Siegel.” “Camela Castellano.” “Camela Ruiz.” “Camela Novak.” And at the very end—one stamped in red: “Camela: Deceased.” Vincent's hands clenched around the paper until it tore apart as he muttered, “Lies.” The imposter got up from the floor, dusting herself off and straightening her dress. She smiled faintly and tilted her head. “Not lies, fox. These are records. Every name she could have been. Every grave she almost occupied.”

"If I do this, if I fake my death—I cannot contact anyone. Albert. Antonio. Grace. They will think I am really gone." "They will grieve. That grief will be authentic. X-One and X-Two will detect authentic grief and accept your death as real. Fake grief gets noticed. Real grief sells the deception." X-Three grabbed my flickering hand. "You want to protect them? Make them believe you are dead. It is the only way." "How do I know you are not just X-One wearing a conscience as camouflage? How do I know this is not another layer of manipulation?"

“I told you Celeste wasn’t working alone. What I didn’t tell you is that there’s another player. Someone even more dangerous.” Juliette leaned in, her tone clipped. “Who?” Adrian tapped the screen. A photo appeared. Damon’s blood drained from his face. “No…” “Yes,” Adrian confirmed. “Martin Delacroix.” Juliette’s heart lurched. “That’s not possible. He’s dead.” Adrian’s voice remained even. “That’s what he wanted the world to believe. He faked his death just before the SEC could nail him for tech fund fraud. He blames Damon for turning his back on him during the collapse. Claims you sealed his fate.”

"You're dead. You died when I was seven. I went to your funeral. I saw them lower your coffin into the ground." "You saw them lower an empty coffin," she corrected, taking a careful step closer. "The body in the morgue wasn't mine. The dental records were altered. The whole thing was staged." "That's impossible," I said, backing away until I hit the window. "You're not real. You're some kind of hallucination brought on by stress. Or maybe Elena is playing games with my mind." Margaret's face hardened at the mention of Elena's name. "Elena Torres is very real, and she's very dangerous. That's why I had to break cover. That's why I'm here."

I told him, my chest heaving from the annoyance this man was causing me. "What the heck do you mean I did to your sister?" He asked, obviously confused. "Maybe a Mel Crisostomo can jog your memory?"As I asked, I braced myself for a guilty expression, but instead, he seemed more confused when I mentioned my sister's name. He gives off the impression that he is seriously considering it and trying to recall the name, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he is just faking it. Either that, or he has so many victims that he has lost count of the number of women he has toyed with, including my sister.

He was laughing. " Not at all... You know if I don't sleep for two nights then the third day I can even sleep while standing. " " This is too much, you are kidding me. " " Trust me, If I sleep all of a sudden under that condition and if anyone asks me anything, I start behaving as if I am drugged or given the medicine so that I can only speak the truth. I would even admit that I murdered someone if I really had. I mean to say that I lose control over my mind. And the funniest part is, that I won't remember anything about it when I get up. " he was looking at me with surprise and then he burst out laughing.

I thought one more risk could buy us a new beginning. So I swallowed the drug. Five hours later, they gave me a prepaid debit card and sent me home. By the time I reached our basement apartment in Queens, pain was spreading through my lower back, and my mouth tasted like rust. I stopped outside the door, heard enough from Adrian’s phone call to understand everything, then covered my mouth as blood surged up my throat. My parents were alive. Liz was alive. The debt was fake. And the past five years had only been a punishment.

“Will you help me?” I begged my childhood friend, Matteo Russo. “Right now, you’re the only person who can stand against Elijah. If you help me, I can fake my death and leave.” Matteo is the Don of the largest mafia family in Sinticily. To him, staging a fake death through an accident would be effortless. However, instead of answering, he asked, “Hazel, are you really willing to give up everything? Five years of marriage, and your son, who has always adored you. Once you fake your death, you’ll lose it all.”

"You fabricated a body? Falsified DNA evidence?" "I did not fabricate anything. I found Elena's actual body. Where you buried it. Where you thought no one would ever look." Marcus stood, gun still trained. "And now you are going to confess. On camera. Or Hartley dies and you go down for two murders instead of one." "He did not kill Elena," I said desperately. "She faked her death. She told me everything. About the video, about running away, about—"