Faking My Death to Escape My Screwed-up Family

I wanted them to leave. But my throat felt clogged—thick with the taste of blood.

"Mr. Evans, are you refusing to answer because we hit the mark? Were you born to do this?"

Seeing my panic, a cameraman shoved the lens in my face and began a live broadcast.

"Renowned software developer Jayce Evans has a promiscuous lifestyle, and twisted sexual orientation. Let this be a warning to the public—treasure your bodies. Don’t end up like Jayce, crippled from reckless indulgence."

I was nothing more than a stripped-down clown, unable even to curl up in humiliation.

The relentless camera flashes immortalized my most wretched, disgraceful moment.

"What the hell are you doing?! Who let you in here?!"

Wyatt burst in, his voice thunderous as he ordered them out.

Clara rushed forward, shrugging off her coat and wrapping it tightly around me. Tears streamed down her face as she scolded the guards.

"Where the hell are the bodyguards? Are they dead?! How could you let the press in? Fire them all—get them out of my sight!"

Their performance was flawless—so flawless that it made me sick.

I couldn't stop trembling.

Clara gripped my freezing hand, her eyes filled with guilt. "Jayce, I’m so sorry... It’s my fault for not protecting you, for letting these reporters take advantage of the situation. Don’t be afraid—I’ll suppress the news. I swear, I won’t let anyone tarnish your name. I promise, I will never let you suffer again."

How laughable.

The same sister who swore to shield me from suffering had inflicted the greatest humiliation of my life.

She knew—better than anyone—that those reporters had already captured everything they wanted.

My reputation was ruined. I would forever be branded as a disgrace, shunned like a rat in the streets just as she wished. Trampled into the dirt.

For Henry’s sake, the two people closest to me had destroyed me completely.

The shock was too much. My battered body couldn't take it anymore, and I passed out.

Just before losing consciousness, I heard Clara's panicked screams as the specialists, who had been waiting just outside, rushed in.

"We’ve delayed too long. His intestines have started to rot—we need to remove the damaged sections. Even if we repair his limbs, he might never regain full function. He’ll likely be wheelchair-bound for life. The situation is critical—we've already missed the optimal window for treatment. The success rate of the surgery is only fifty percent."

Clara’s voice trembled with disbelief. "No... How could this happen? You must save my brother, no matter what it takes!"

She never let go of my hand, sobbing as she whispered, "Jayce, you have to hold on. I can’t lose you."

Wyatt’s voice was hoarse with emotion as he said, "Jayce, we promised each other—we’d be each other’s best men, standing together on our wedding days. I won’t allow you to leave me behind."

I closed my eyes, feeling the barren emptiness in my chest.

—

When I woke up, I was back in my hospital room.

Aside from my slightly less-injured left hand, my entire body was wrapped in bandages.

Wyatt sat beside the bed. The moment he saw me awake, his face lit up in relief. "Jayce! You’re finally awake! Do you feel any pain? Are you hungry? Do you want some water?"

His usual concern was laced with careful, uneasy guilt.

I suddenly wanted to laugh.

They were the ones who had ruined me, left me less than human. And now that they had gotten what they wanted, they dared to act remorseful? Who were they trying to fool?

I forced a weak smile, my cracked lips barely moving. "Get some sleep. Those dark circles—how are you supposed to be a groom like that?"

Wyatt visibly relaxed at my attempt at humor. He lay down on the bedside cot and soon drifted into a steady sleep.

Watching his even breaths, I slowly reached for the phone he had left on the nightstand.

The moment I unlocked it, the screen lit up with his wallpaper—a photo of the three of them.

Henry stood in the middle, grinning widely, an arm slung around each of them.