Three Years After I Faked My Own Death Novels & Stories

"It was him! He's the one who cooked up the whole fake death idea! If not for him, I wouldn't have done it! We'd be married by now! Yoana, don't let Jack fool you! He's a master manipulator!" Jack's hand found mine, squeezing it tight. I knew about that charade already, but Jack and I never talked about it. What was there to say, really? It was just a pathetic ploy for him to get close to me. I held onto Jack's hand and we walked home together. With a simple gesture from Jack, the bodyguards were on Lawrence, escorting him away. … Three months later, Lawrence's name came up again. However, he was gone for good.

I pointed at the air “I’m going with Fiona.” I ended it finally, and she nodded quickly before walking away, knowing better than to say a word. I turned back to the mirror, my irritation still burning in my chest. The bleach was starting to come off my now short hair, and my original hair color was pushing through in soft streaks. “I need to get my hair done as soon as possible,” I muttered under my breath. It’s been six years. Six long years, and everything about my life is different now. Six years since I faked my own death.

By faking my own death, I had been able to throw everyone off my trail, including my enemies. I nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. My plan had worked perfectly. Everyone believed I was dead, and I had been able to use that to my advantage. I had taken the time to receive treatment for my cancer, and I was now cancer-free. It was a new lease on life, and I was determined to make the most of it.

"You are dead." "No. I am not." "We identified the body." "You identified what you were shown. I arranged what you were shown, the identification was meant to hold." "You faked your death." "I left. There is a difference, one is permanent. The other was strategic." "You left Ivan and me at nineteen." "Yes. I did. It was the hardest decision I have ever made." "And built the Syndicate." "Yes." "And spent eleven years engineering situations from the background. Including the past eighteen months. That nearly destroyed everything we had."

"Lily, do you understand what you did wrong?" My father's cold words yanked me back to reality. I froze, my voice hoarse. "Wrong? What did I do wrong?" His expression darkened slightly. "Five years, and you still don't understand how hard it is to earn money? When we faked our deaths and went abroad, it was to teach you—money always runs out, one day there's no more to earn, one day there's nothing left to spend. Now you understand. Good—so we can return home."

“Twenty-three minutes.” ‎ ‎ ‎You’re a ghost,” he rasped. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“No, Marcus. Ghosts don’t breathe. I do.” I took a step closer. ‎ ‎"You can't do this," Marcus said. But his voice was shaking. "You're legally dead. You have no rights." ‎ ‎"Actually," I said, "I'm very much alive. I faked my death to escape an abusive marriage. That's not illegal. And I've been documenting your crimes for eighteen months. I have witnesses and evidence. And I have absolutely nothing to lose."

Thomas had faked his own death, undergone plastic surgery, and returned as Larry. Even the floating comments I had seen all these years? He wrote them all. "Dheena?" Larry frowned when I did not respond. My expression turned cold as I took the urn from Elsa. "Thank you, Larry." I bit down hard on the words. Then, I turned away, not sparing Larry another glance. Nonetheless, I could feel his surprise… and faint disappointment. Was it because I was not collapsing in grief the way he expected? How ridiculous. In my previous life, I cried until I could barely breathe. I had wanted nothing more than to die with him.

And he just tried to break into our house. "Surprise," James says. Not apologetic. Not sorry. "Bet you didn't see that coming." "You've been working for my father this whole time?" "Not for him. With him. Partner. Equal. It was my idea to fake my death. Stage that whole dramatic 'I'm dying for you' phone call. Very convincing, wasn't it?" James laughs. "And you bought it. Both of you. Believed I was a hero instead of what I really am."

I noticed she was struggling to speak, so I leaned in closer and heard her whisper, "Further studies…" I was amazed she was still thinking about going to Gavarre for further studies at this point. "I know that Mom, Dad, and Jesse were just faking their deaths, Aunt Jacklyn," I said, ignoring the growing terror in her eyes. "I initially just wanted to teach them a lesson—maybe have Mom wake up at the crematorium like a living corpse so they'd have to face the humiliation of being caught. It's quite a coincidence how Dad's heart matched the tycoon's son. I was fully aware that Dad was still breathing when he was wheeled into the hospital."

She chuckled as she stole a glance at Mateo who was currently looking like he had seen a ghost. "So I ran. From the hell.” She declared. "Six years ago, the world thinks Isabella Santiago died in a car crash on North Cliff Road. "You found a body. You found dental records. You held a funeral." She took a step closer to the lens. "I faked it. I faked my death to destroy my husband." The live had hit millions of views. Hundreds of comments ran up expressing total shock.