My Husband Faked His Death for Love, and I Went with It
My husband, Hank, is dead.
On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.
My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.
My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.
Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.
Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”
She threw a family photo in my face.
The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.
It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.
When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.
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