روايات وقصص ضمن Three Years After I Faked My Own Death

I didn’t trust my legs to stay still. “After I realized someone here had tried to kill me — twice — and failed,” she began, pacing like she was telling a bedtime story, “I knew I couldn’t wait for the third time. So I faked it. Easy. You were all grief-stricken and blind. I worked with the forensic guy at the police — the same one Vittorio pays for his messes. . We picked the right body, faked the right symptoms, and you swallowed it whole.” She tapped her temple. “You saw what I wanted you to see.”

It must be because she’s really experienced! Some people even used AI to put my face on indecent videos, and plenty of fake videos started spreading. All those insults toward me hurt me through my entire being, but Mark did not stop it. He even liked some of the comments. He stared at his phone’s screen and seemed really happy about it. “Jane, let’s see how long you can keep quiet about this before you come forward!” I screamed, yelled, and tried to hit him, but I could only watch as my hand passed through Mark’s face.

Travis's voice trembled with disbelief, his brow furrowed with grief. "See, Travis? I told you! She faked her death—this was all a setup! And you got so sick over this vindictive woman!" After I "died," Travis had fallen into a deep depression, becoming seriously ill. The story had gone viral, with photos of Travis looking frail in his hospital bed. His eyes hollow, whispering, "I don't want anyone else, just Sarah. I'd trade my life for hers. I'd do anything if she could just be alive again."

"If that private submarine hadn't picked us up when it did…" I nodded, not telling her the submarine was a key part of my escape plan. On the screen, Dexter was still on the beach, a madman consumed by a loss he himself had engineered. But that had nothing to do with me anymore. Three Months Later "Ravencrest Industries stock fell another 15% today following rumors of internal instability." I heard the report on the financial news as I prepped for an investor meeting. It had been three months since my "death." I now lived in New Moon Bay, a coastal tech hub a thousand kilometers from any royal territory.

Everything depended on how I handled the next few minutes. "Someone who needs to discuss Elena Martinez," I said, disguising my voice slightly by speaking lower than usual. "That could be a lot of people," Dr. Parker replied, but I could hear caution in his tone. "Not many people know the details of what happened three years ago. The fake death certificate. The drug you used. The plan we made together." There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Marcus?" Dr. Parker's voice was suddenly urgent, hopeful. "Marcus, is that really you?"

“You’re standing here alive because of me! I made this happen!” “ Don’t you dare try to take credit for my work ! for my mother’s work …Don’t act unfortunate “ Her eyes burned and she let out her dramatic scream and I just scoffed and ignored her “I helped you fake your death. I lied. I testified. I covered your tracks. I stayed hidden with you while the whole world mourned you. And now you’re telling me to stay home the day you make a comeback ?” I sighed. “This event isn’t about you…it’s MY comeback…not ours ?”

The floodgates were open, and the truth was going to burn us both to the ground. “That’s why I faked my death,” I confessed, “That’s why I made the world believe I had taken my own life. And that’s why I faked the amnesia when I came back—acting like I couldn’t remember a single detail of who you were. All of it was a beautifully constructed lie. But right now? Seeing the wreckage around us? There is absolutely no point in hiding anything from you anymore.”

Nothing was left but flat, empty horizon. He tried to speak. Only a rough, ruined whisper escaped his throat. He saw that calm in my eyes. Then he saw Kaelan standing silent and protective behind my chair. The last feeble, impossible hope in his heart—the kind that survives on sheer stubborn delusion—guttered and died. He closed his eyes. Two clear tracks cut through the pallor of his temples. He had lived. But something within him had finally, truly ended. Three months later, William could sit up. His left leg was permanently damaged, requiring a cane for even a difficult, limping walk. His body was a hollowed-out shell of its former power.

Then I collapsed onto my couch, exhaustion finally caught up with me. Twenty-four hours. That's all I had to coordinate a fake death, transport a comatose man across international borders, and keep the entire operation secret from everyone except Mitchelle and a handful of trusted people. My phone buzzed with a text from Andrew at LifeLike Figures. "Mannequin in progress. Will be ready by 8 PM tomorrow as promised." I stared at the message, the reality of what I was orchestrating hit me fully. I was faking a man's death. Bribing a doctor. Smuggling a patient out of the country illegally.

"Kill the bitch. Once she's dead, Lucas will make me the new Luna." "That Alpha is so stupid. He still hasn't realized that the ambush five years ago where I 'saved' him was just an act..." In the footage, Isabella was directing the rogues to tear at my abdomen, a hideous, triumphant laugh on her face. The real Isabella, currently lying on the floor, turned as pale as paper. She knew she couldn't keep the act up. She frantically tried to cover the crystal. "No! That's not me! It's fake! That bitch framed me!"