Faking My Death to Escape My Screwed-up Family

Wyatt patted his chest and swore, "Jayce, even if you can’t be my best man, you will always be the best brother in my heart—my one and only true friend."

Those promises were fake. The oaths were fake.

Only lies and betrayals were real.

I didn’t bother responding. I closed my eyes.

This family—I didn’t want it anymore.

And that included them.

—

A week later, the wedding proceeded as planned at a luxurious seaside hotel.

Dressed in his custom-tailored suit, Henry stood tall among the crowd, dazzling under the attention.

The moment he saw me approach in my wheelchair, his face lit up with exaggerated concern.

"Brother, are you okay? I heard you were injured so badly that your intestines almost fell out. I was so worried!"

Ignoring his pretense, I wheeled past him, looking for a quiet place to rest.

But he grabbed onto my wheelchair, his expression turned pitiful.

A sharp pain shot through my arm.

He had a tiny pin hidden between his fingers—one that he had just stabbed directly into my still-healing wound.

My scalp tingled from the pain.

Clara, busy greeting guests, turned at the commotion and approached us.

I knew Henry too well. If I reacted now, he would immediately put on an act, twisting the situation to make me the villain.

I gritted my teeth and endured it.

Sure enough, he sniffled and started whining, "Sis, Brother must be mad at me for not visiting him! But you know how busy I’ve been... My new software is a huge success, and I just won an award—I barely had time to breathe!"

He flaunted my hard work as his achievement, basking in the admiration of the guests.

Meanwhile, I—the one whose name had been dragged through the mud—couldn’t escape the whispers and disdainful glances, no matter how low I kept my head.

"Jayce, if you’re not feeling well, go rest." Clara's tone was gentle, but there was something else beneath it—an almost imperceptible trace of impatience and distaste.

Obviously, she wasn’t worried about me.

She was worried that my presence would embarrass her.

I nodded, silently wheeling myself away.

—

I had just turned a corner when a strong grip yanked me sideways.

Before I could react, I was dragged into a private lounge.

Once inside, I froze.

The men who had once humiliated me stood there, waiting—the very same ones Clara had promised had been sent to prison.

But they weren’t locked away.

They were here, like demons crawling out of my nightmares.

All the blood drained from my face.

From the crowd, Henry stepped forward, the mask finally slipped from his face, revealing raw malice.

"Jayce, wouldn’t it have been better to just rot away in some forgotten corner of the world? Why did you have to come back and fight me for what’s mine?"

I swallowed back my fear and swore. "I’ll leave. From now on, you’ll be the only young master of the Evans family."

However, Henry sneered. "I trust dead men more."

Then, without warning, he ripped his own expensive dress shirt apart. Buttons immediately flew, and he messed up his hair.

He threw open the door and screamed for help.

Soon after, Clara rushed in with a crowd, her wedding dress trailing behind her.

Her heels came down hard on my hand.

I heard the sickening crack as my barely healed fingers shattered once again.

Blood seeped through the pristine white carpet.

But she didn’t even look down.

She was too busy holding Henry up, her face was full of worry.

"Henry! What happened? Where are you hurt?!"

Wyatt stormed in behind her, panic-stricken. Even though there wasn’t a single scratch on Henry, he still shouted, "Call 911! Where’s the doctor? Is there a doctor here?!"

Not one of them noticed me.

Not one of them saw my broken hand, my blood staining their perfect wedding.

Shivering in Clara's arms, with eyes red, Henry choked out, "I just wanted to comfort Brother. He seemed so upset... But I never expected—he had already arranged for these sick men to ambush me. He thought that if he had to suffer, I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy either..."

He paused dramatically, voice shaking. "Sis, Brother’s reputation is ruined, and his body is broken. I know he must feel jealous of my success. But he didn’t mean it, right? He’s just in a bad mood right now..."

Clara turned to me, her eyes burning with rage. "Henry came to comfort you, and this is how you repay him?! Have you completely lost your mind?! If he suffers any trauma from this, you’ll pay for it with your life!"

Wyatt frowned, his face filled with disappointment. "I can barely recognize you anymore, Jayce. What did Henry ever do to you? How could you hurt him like this? You enjoy being a pathetic, lowly plaything—does that mean he has to stoop to your level too? You deserve to be used and discarded by those men!"

With that, they supported Henry and walked away without a second glance.

Before leaving, Clara turned back, her expression cold and merciless.

"Since you like being humiliated by men so much, let’s make sure you get your fill. Lock the door."

My desperate pleas for mercy were drowned out by the sound of the door slamming shut.

—

Wyatt hesitated when he heard the gut-wrenching screams from inside. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine.

"Honey... do you think this is too much?"

"Too much? What could possibly happen? Those men were his idea—he hired them to put on a show, do you really think they’d actually hurt him? Besides, you know full well that his preferences are completely normal. He doesn’t even like men."

With that, Clara took Henry straight to the hospital.

Only after running a full-body examination and confirming that he was completely unscathed did she finally remember Jayce.

She sighed and turned to Wyatt. "Tell them to let Jayce out. He’s still my brother, after all. This should be enough of a lesson. When we get home, give him the blue diamond watch I just bought—he loves blue, I’m sure he’ll like it."

But just as Wyatt pulled out his phone, the hotel manager called first.

"Ms. Evans, bad news! Sir Jayce... He jumped into the sea! He only left behind a medical report at the scene!"