Three Years After I Faked My Own Death Novels & Stories

“Would you like to explain that?” The woman felt her heart hammering out of her chest. Letting her eyes fall shut, she breathed through her lips, and that was when a small tear rolled down her cheek. “I…” she sucked in a deep breath. “Three months back…I used to work for a family,” she started. “Rich. Very rich. Those people.” “What does it have to do with your fake death?” “Everything,” she shook her head. “I had to fake my death because I was afraid they would come after me and my family. Faith, my nine-year-old daughter…” more tears streaming down her face.

~James~ I gripped the wine glass tightly, almost crushing it while waiting for them. My heart pounded so fast thinking that I will be about to see my family again. It's been a while already. I faked my death for about four months after Gideon threatened to kill me. He thought I'm dead, but he didn't know that I was actually alive, waiting for the perfect moment to put him in his place. “Alpha James,” Kyle entered my office. That makes me turn my head to him.

The one that—no matter how hard I try—doesn’t match what I just witnessed. “That day, seven years back. The photos you saw—they were real. I was seeing a man before you.” “We were in a relationship for three years. We loved each other and had promised to reject our mates for each other.” “I was the first to find my mate. So, as promised, I had to make you reject me…so I could run away with him.” “We planned everything already.” “We knew…my brother and my family wouldn’t stop looking for me. So we took Heratte’s help to fake my death.”

"They even said I was a fighter, and that with the amount of locusts I got, it wasn't really that difficult to kill a Declan Heisenberg. I hadn't been conscious when they really made you believe I was dead, with the coffin that was buried and the pit being empty. "My parents and yours both agreed that it should be left alone for the time being. And when I returned to the Philippines two months after my fabricated death. I was just wandering around near you. Remember the person who keeps bringing you flower bouquets? That was me. I simply want to see my wife walk on stage, not just the one with the company where your day ends up. "I saw your dedication in making my company's competitor kneel

"Alright, alright. I'll come to you." Once his footsteps faded, I opened my eyes. Grabbed my phone. Booked a one-way ticket. Somewhere far. Three years of tests, lies, and fake love—I was done. "Jacob, I never want to see you again."

I'm not taking the blame for it. Then, I smiled faintly and glanced at Emil. "In TV shows, a ploy like that could be used to set someone up and get rid of their own problems. Seeing that we've known each other for years, I'd advise you to investigate your lover." In my previous life, Sarah faked her death for many years and returned to the country in a blaze of glory. She had married an 84-year-old wealthy man abroad. Soon after, the wealthy man passed away, and she hooked up with his son.

The ropes dug painfully into my wrists, but before I could think more, footsteps approached from afar. Rory emerged from the shadows, laughing maniacally, "Finally, you're in my clutches." Somehow, a strange calm settled over me. "So, your emotional trauma was all an act." Rory burst into frenzied laughter. "If I hadn't faked the illness, how could Hazel have devoted herself to me? How could she have hurt you so deeply for my sake? Everything was going perfectly."

After that, the nightmares came, every night without fail. No matter how my family or friends pleaded, I refused to remarry. Who could have imagined that my devotion over three years would turn me into a fool? Hilary faked her death and ran off with my daughter, for her so-called one true love? A bitter laugh escaped me. By the time I came to, I had somehow returned to the hotel. All night long, memories tormented me like ghosts. By dawn, I had made up my mind. At the very least, I had to get my daughter back.

Watching the video sent by a doctor friend, I let out a cold, hollow laugh. Was he truly heartbroken? In pain? Too bad, it no longer mattered. From the moment I decided to fake my death, I had already let him go. Whether he regretted it or not, I was never coming back. From this day forward, Lisa Vander no longer existed. I had successfully disappeared, free from everything. That so-called wedding truly became the talk of the town—not for love, but for death. It was remembered as a funeral. Mine. I changed my appearance and relocated to a small village near Parlisle City.

Now I sat on my bed, found the remote, and pressed play. The documentary was about a woman who’d faked her own death to escape her husband. She’d spent three years planning it, draining accounts, building a new identity, all while smiling at him across the dinner table. At some point she’d realized she couldn’t win by fighting. She had to disappear.