I Learned That My Wife Is Rich After Faking Death

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter.

I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife.

The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years.

“The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?”

Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.”

John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too?

“Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.”

After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.”

I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash.

There was no need for them to test me anymore.

I no longer needed to pretend.

I had just stepped out of the company when the administrator called.

“Sam, what are you doing?

“The numbers these past few days are terrible, and the viewers keep asking what happened to you. You must come back and start streaming again!”

I felt the numbness spreading through my right leg, and I said calmly, “Mr. Green, I want to resign.”

Mr. Green froze.

I could picture his stunned expression.

For the sake of money, I had been the most hardworking employee in the entire company.

I streamed for more than twelve hours a day. I played a corpse on camera, and while I was streaming, I could not move at all.

I ate and slept in that cramped streaming room for three years without change.

However, though I still greatly needed money, I was claiming that I wanted to resign.

“You said what? Resign?” His voice shot up.

“Sam, your daughter’s medical fees need to be paid, no?”

I did not want to argue with him, so I ended the call.

My daughter’s medical condition… Yes, I had pushed myself for three whole years so that I could treat her.

Yet, all of it felt like a joke.

I leaned against the wall, and my legs felt weak from the numbness.

I called Stacy. I wanted to tell her that I had resigned and that I no longer wanted to live like the walking dead.

I wanted to ask her if she could come and take me home.

Instead, the mechanical voice answered from the phone, “The number you have dialed is busy…”

I called her again and again, and every attempt ended with a busy tone.

After more than a dozen attempts, she had not answered once.

I let out a bitter laugh and put my phone away. It was pointless to keep humiliating myself.

Today was my daughter’s birthday, and I had chosen her favorite strawberry cake from the bakery.

I hailed a cab and gave the driver my home address.

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror and hesitated to speak.

Perhaps my face looked too haggard, or perhaps the stale smell that clung to me after years of acting as a corpse in a sealed room made him uncomfortable.

The car moved smoothly, and the scenery outside slipped past the window.

I looked at my reflection in the window and found it frighteningly unfamiliar. Even I felt unsettled by it, like the reflection itself would bring me bad luck.

I had believed that if I earned enough money, I could restore my daughter’s health. Then, the three of us would live as a happy family.

I had forgotten that the human heart could change.

Perhaps some people never even had a heart to begin with.

The cab stopped at the familiar neighborhood gate.

I paid and dragged my uncooperative legs toward the apartment.

When I stood before the familiar door, I found a new door sign on it, and the lock had been changed.

I knocked tentatively, and a young couple I had never seen opened the door.

The woman eyed me warily. “Who are you looking for?”

My stomach dropped, and my throat went dry. “Is this not Stacy’s home?”

“Oh, the ones who lived here before? They sold the place to us six months ago.”

The man studied me curiously. There was a child in his arms.

Sold?

I swayed and stumbled back a step.

She had moved. Why didn’t she inform me of such a major development in her life?

I forced myself to remain steady. I apologized to the couple before walking away in a daze.

Where could I go?

With no other choice, I turned to Stacy’s friend for help.

After I got Stacy’s new address from her friend, I headed there.