Stronger Than Death Novels & Stories

In the fifth year after my death, my mate, Kade Irvin, comes to the shack that I used to live in once again. He's not here to visit me. The truth is, his new lover, Tiffany Hart's blood cancer has relapsed once again, so he desperately needs my bone marrow in order to extend her life. When he steps into the old and ruined room, he realizes that it's empty. "Nala, get out right now! My patience is limited, you know!" Upon hearing his bellows, the old she-wolf who lives next door, Patricia Howl, rushes over to him. "Are you looking for Nala? She died a long time ago." Kade has already blocked our mind-link. Of course, he's oblivious about how much pain and suffering I had to go through before my death. He just chuckles coldly in return. "Her bastard pup is still in my hands. As if she has the guts to die! Tell her that she'd better come to me before tomorrow if she still wants to see that bastard spawn of hers!" But Patricia sighs and shakes her head. "If you're talking about Nala's pup, that poor thing died a long time ago protecting his mother…"

When the criminal tortured me to death, I was three-month pregnant. But my husband Mark - the city's most prominent detective - was at the hospital with his first love Emma, accompanying her for her medical checkup. Three days ago, he demanded me to donate my kidney to Emma. When I refused, telling him I was two months pregnant with our child, his eyes had turned cold. "Stop lying," he had snarled. "You're just being selfish, trying to let Emma die." He pulled over on the dark highway. "Get out," he ordered. "Walk home since you're so heartless. " I stood there in the darkness and was kidnapped by the vengeful criminal, whom Mark had once imprisoned. He cut out my tongue. With cruel satisfaction, he used my phone to call my husband. Mark's response was brief and cold: "Whatever it is, Emma's medical checkup is more important! She needs me right now." The criminal let out a dark chuckle. "Well, well... Seems like the great detective values his ex's life more than his current wife's." When Mark arrived at the crime scene hours later, he was horrified by the brutality inflicted on the corpse. He angrily condemned the murderer for treating a pregnant woman so cruelly But he didn't recognize that the mutilated body before him was his own wife - me.

My boyfriend is a lauded attorney. His true love rams into me with her car; my daughter stands bravely before me as the car explodes. She's blown to smithereens. I'm on the brink of death as I'm carried onto a stretcher, but my boyfriend holds his true love's face tenderly. His gaze is filled with heartache as he tells her that he'll get her off scot-free. He ruins the scene of the accident and buys off the witnesses. He even comes to the hospital to threaten me after I've been disfigured from the explosion. In the end, I die after the treatment doesn't help. It's only when the court announces the sentence that he realizes the deceased's personal details match mine perfectly.

My husband was in the late stages of liver cancer. Afraid of dragging me down, he committed suicide by jumping into the river. I couldn’t swim, but I dove in after him without hesitation. To give him the will to live on, I told him about winning the lottery. He pretended to struggle but took the chance to shove me underwater, drowning me. Before I could rest in peace, he ran off abroad with his first love using my money. Only then did I realize that he had planned to fake his death all along just to get rid of me! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he jumped into the river. You wanted to die, huh? Well, let me help you with that!

For the Christmas holiday, my family sets off to the Christmas holiday camp up north. Along the way, my younger brother, Jamie Hale, says he needs to use the restroom. Mom tells my older sister, Ava Hale, and me to go as well. "It'll be a while before we reach the next rest stop, so you two should go with Jamie. I don't want anyone fussing to go to the restroom again on the way. And be quick! Don't waste time dawdling." I run to the restroom at once. But when I come back out, I see the familiar SUV slowly driving away. I'm left standing outside, in -4 degrees Fahrenheit weather, while a snowstorm sweeps through the rest stop. Mom and Dad have forgotten all about me, their Omega daughter. I've been left behind at the rest stop, with no one else around. I run as fast as I can, shouting, "Mom! Dad!" But the SUV turns the corner and disappears into the traffic along the interstate.

"Ms. Jones, the service to fake your death that you requested has been arranged. Here's the agreement. Please sign here." Isabella Jones glanced at the contract that the person placed before her. Client: Isabella Jones Cause of death: Falling from a mountain, eaten by wild animals. Unable to retrieve the remains of the body Time of death: One week from now One week from now would mark the fifth anniversary of her marriage to Samuel Grant. It was also the day she had planned to fake her death and leave him. Since that was the date it all began, it might as well be when it ended.

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

Silver burned. Holy light seared. I screamed my brother’s name, Theron, into the communication crystal. My consciousness was fading. His cold voice finally crackled through. "What now?" I fought through the pain, my voice weak. "Theron, please… help me…" He cut me off, his voice a razor's edge. "Enough! Lilith is hosting the Blood Moon Festival. Stop causing trouble. If you’re tormenting her out of jealousy again, I’ll throw you in the sun cells myself." The line went dead. Lilith. Our manipulative little adoptive sister. Was she really more important to him than his own blood? The silver poison and searing light consumed me. I shattered. My tears turned to ash, my body right behind them. Congratulations, Theron. You're free of your annoying sister. You don't have to lock me up anymore. Because I'm already dead.

Three years after my death, my wife’s first love was hanging onto life by a thread, and only my system could save him. To force me to show up, she cut off my father’s medical payments. My sick mother was forced to beg her out in the summer heat until she collapsed. She even threw my beloved little sister into a bonfire to be eaten up by the flames. As she waited for me to show up, apologize to her, and use the system to save her first love, my sister finally stopped hiding the truth. “He died three years ago! Three years ago, he traded his life so you would survive that car crash!”

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.