My Husband Faked His Death to Steal Everything,He Didn't Know I Was Watching

"Regina, I went to the hospital today too. But my news... isn't good."

I played along, letting the smile drain from my face inch by inch, eyes widening as I stared at him.

Darrell turned the diagnosis report to face me. "I've been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer."

I looked at the forged document. I knew it was fake, but this was a performance. The props might be fake, but the emotions had to be real.

"Darrell, it has to be a misdiagnosis. You've always been so healthy."

I shook my head in disbelief, and my eyes stung with heat. Tears actually welled up, threatening to spill.

Darrell saw my grief and took it for the real thing. He gripped my shoulders, his expression the picture of tender devotion. "Regina, I wish it were a misdiagnosis too. But I went to a specialist. I know I seem fine on the outside, but the truth is I've been feeling off for a long time."

When the scene called for deeper emotion, I threw my arms around him and sobbed against his chest. "Cancer isn't a death sentence anymore. The baby and I will be right by your side through all of it."

The words had barely left my mouth when Darrell suddenly pushed me back. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor in front of me.

It wasn't until he was kneeling there that I noticed actual tears rolling down his cheeks.

He clutched my hands in his. "Regina, please. End the pregnancy. I can't bear the thought of you raising a child alone."

Hearing those words, a nerve twitched at the corner of my eye. This piece of garbage. For the sake of his own interests, he could be this heartless. I hadn't imagined he could sink this low.

I was watching his cruelty play out right in front of me. But I was still in character. I had to see this performance through.

"Darrell, we tried so long for this baby. Isn't there any other way?"

"Medicine has come so far. Cancer isn't what it used to be..."

The words tasted like ash in my own mouth, but I had to say them. It was part of the script.

Darrell's mind was already made up. I was only going through the motions.

He kept up his act of selfless concern, still on his knees, crying harder now. "Regina, I understand how you feel. I know how long you've wanted this child."

"But this disease could take me at any moment. I don't want our baby growing up without a father. A child without a dad... that's no life for a kid."

I scoffed internally. I had to hand it to him. His delivery was flawless. Oscar-worthy, really.

I pulled him to his feet, keeping up my own look of stubborn refusal to give in.

"There has to be a chance. As long as we don't give up, your condition can be treated."

Darrell wiped his tears and doubled down on the devoted-husband routine. "I've already looked into it. Pancreatic cancer is the most aggressive of all cancers. By the time it's detected, it's almost always late-stage."

"If we pour everything we have into treatment and it doesn't change the outcome, then what's the point of wasting that money..."

"How can you say that?" I cut him off. "As long as you're here, we're still a family. If I lost you, what would I even be living for?"

He was "putting himself in my shoes," so naturally I had to match him beat for beat with my own passionate devotion.

Darrell pulled me into his arms and held me tight.

If anyone had walked in on us at that moment, they would have envied what a deeply loving couple we were.

But in reality, we were both scheming behind each other's backs, each running our own calculations.

"Regina, I'm not trying to be cruel. I just can't stand the thought of you struggling alone with a baby. This is all my fault." His performance was so convincing it was almost a shame he'd gone into business instead of acting.

Then again, I was every bit his equal.

"Darrell, let me take you back to the hospital tomorrow for a thorough reexamination."

"No need." He shook his head. "Tomorrow, let's go to the hospital and schedule the procedure. The earlier it's done, the less strain it puts on your body."