Dying While You Loved Her

After twenty minutes in the rain, shivering so bad I thought my bones would snap, my mother finally pulled up in a car. She threw a blanket over me and practically dragged me inside. I was half-conscious, teeth chattering, but I felt her hands guiding me, steady and warm.

She drove straight into the city and checked us into some fancy hotel. Five-star, marble floors, chandeliers, people bowing when she walked past. She made me sit on the couch, handed me warm tea, and brushed my wet hair off my face like I was a child. “Rest, Lesley. I’ll take care of everything,” she said. “I’m not the woman you remember. I’m a billionaire now. I can move people like pieces on a board. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

For the first time in days, I let myself breathe. My chest loosened. I whispered, “Thanks, Mum.”

Later that night, when the suite went quiet, we sat by the window. City lights glowed below us. She told me she could buy influence, make calls, bend the world if she had to. She sipped wine and said, “If you want to disappear, I have people who can make that happen.”

I stared at my shaking hands. “Can you… fake my death?”

“Yeah. Easy. I already know the right people.”

But first, I had to call Beck one last time. I grabbed my phone and dialed Fredrinn five times in a row. The first four went unanswered. On the fifth, his voice came through, rough and annoyed.

“Lesley, what now?”

My throat hurt. “Fredrinn… thanks. For the five years. I just realized—”

He cut me off. “You just realized now? Fine. Come to the hospital tomorrow. Apologize to her. Be decent to Miya. She’s saving your life. You should be grateful instead of acting like the world owes you something.”

Before I could answer, I heard Miya in the background. Sugary, fake concern dripping off every word. “Who are you even talking to?”

“It’s Lesley,” he said flat.

Miya gasped. “Lesley? What does she want now? Is she begging again? Fredrinn, I don’t want drama. I’m scared of her. I slapped me, I’m traumatized. Maybe after a month, once I calm down, I’ll do the surgery. I know she’s jealous. I don’t want you two fighting. I’m sorry.”

“No, Miya. Don’t apologize.”

The line went dead. He hung up. Just like that.

My phone buzzed before I could pull it from my ear. A new message.

“Look who won. Me. Poor Lesley. Your husband doesn’t even look at you. Do everyone a favor. Disappear. That’ll make life easier for all of us.”

I stared at the black screen. My chest burned. No tears. I turned to my mother and whispered, “Do it now, Mum.”

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone, face unreadable. I watched her make calls quietly. Shadows moved across the city that night. Cars drove empty streets. Envelopes changed hands. My phone ended up somewhere it shouldn’t have.

I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to know.

All I remember was tires screeching, headlights flashing, then silence. My phone abandoned, my wedding ring and bracelet planted like proof for someone else to find. My mother’s face calm, staring down at the staged wreck.

By morning, news broke everywhere. “Local woman killed in car crash en route to hospital.” Reporters buzzing, police tape flapping, neighbors crying. No confirmed name, but my phone and ring were shown. Proof enough.

In the suite, the TV glowed. My mother turned it off, hand steady. “It’s done, child,” she said.

I nodded. My chest was full of grief and relief all tangled together. I couldn’t tell which was which.

She handled everything in hours. New passports, new names, a private jet waiting. The concierge packed our luggage quietly, under a fake name. The world bent around her money and certainty.

By dawn, we walked through a silent private terminal. My mother’s hand on my back, guiding me. I looked at the city skyline one last time. My chest tightened, but I turned away and stepped onto the plane.

“Cabin secure. Preparing for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice said.

My mother leaned close. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered, eyes on the dark horizon. “Because when I come back, Fredrinn and that fake twin of mine will pay. Every scar, every drop of blood—they’re mine to collect.”

…

Fredrinn'S POV

I was lying there in the hospital bed, bandages tight on my chest, painkillers barely keeping the fire down. My patience was gone.

“Bring Lesley here,” I barked at my men over the phone. “Drag her from the villa if you have to. I want her here, on her knees, saying sorry to Miya.”

There was silence on the other end. Then one of them cleared his throat. “B-boss… she wasn’t in the villa.”