I Made My Husband's Fake Death Real

Evelyn's POV

Years passed in a blur, each day heavier than the last. My life had crumbled, reduced to sweeping floors and scrubbing tiles in a mall that once felt beneath me. The years of struggle had hardened me, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw that day.

Bent over with a mop in hand, I heard a familiar laugh. My blood turned to ice as I slowly raised my head. There, just a few feet away, was William. He was supposed to be dead, yet there he stood, alive and well, looking almost exactly as he had years ago—smug, carefree, and untouched by the wreckage he'd left in his wake.

My breath caught in my throat, and before I knew it, I was walking towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes landed on me, widening slightly as he took me in. His lips curled into a sneer, and he let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, it’s you," he said, giving me a slow, mocking once-over. "How did you end up like this? It’s so embarrassing."

The sting of his words cut deep, but before I could respond, a voice chimed in from behind him.

"Honey, who are you talking to?"

I froze. That voice… I’d know it anywhere.

Linda.

She appeared beside William, her arm slipping through his as she smiled sweetly at him. When her gaze shifted to me, the smile faltered for just a second—just long enough for the truth to flicker in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the same patronizing smile I’d seen countless times before.

"Oh, Evelyn," Linda cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I thought you’d be long dead by now. Guess you're tougher than I gave you credit for."

Her words sank in like poison, and before I could speak, William pulled her closer. They stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, right in front of me. I felt my fury boil, but my body trembled, powerless.

Linda continued, her tone suddenly light and casual as if she were discussing the weather, "By the way, we never properly thanked you. You helped William and me so much, paying off all that debt and giving us the freedom we deserved. Oh, and especially for donating your daughter's heart to our son. It’s because of you that he’s grown up healthy and strong."

Her words struck like a hammer to my chest, knocking the wind out of me. My daughter’s heart… went to their son? The world around me blurred as the horrifying truth sank in. Every sacrifice I’d made, every tear I’d shed—it had all been part of their sick, twisted plan. They had played me from the start.

I had wondered for years why Linda had suddenly disappeared after her pregnancy. I assumed she was ashamed, afraid that I’d look down on her. But now I understand. It wasn’t shame that kept her away—it was hate.

The betrayal was like a fire consuming me from the inside. I couldn’t think. I lunged at them, screaming, desperate to rip them apart. My fists swung wildly, but I was weak—too weak. They were strong and well-kept, living in luxury while I had withered into a shadow of my former self.

In mere moments, they shoved me away like I was nothing. I stumbled, the world spinning around me as I tumbled down the stairs. My body hit the ground with a sickening thud. Pain shot through me, and then—nothing. Darkness swallowed me whole.

Just then, I heard William’s voice called out from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts. "Honey, why are you just standing there?"

I turned to him with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Just remembering something I need to take care of. You go ahead and sleep; I’ll be in the study."

He nodded, pretending to care. "Don’t stay up too late," he said as he turned and headed for bed.

I stood there, watching him walk away, my mind replaying every betrayal. I knew what he was up to. He was meeting Linda, plotting his fake death, setting up the trap they thought would ruin me again.

But this time, I wouldn’t let them win.

I slowly descended the stairs, my eyes on the dark garage. The events of tomorrow were already written in my memory. William’s "accident." The car crash that wasn’t supposed to kill him, just set the stage for their elaborate scam. But I wasn’t going to play by their rules anymore.

If he wanted to gamble his life, I’d make sure the stakes were higher than he ever imagined.

The next afternoon, I received a call from the hospital.

I didn’t rush this time. I took my time getting there, walking at my own pace, knowing full well what awaited me. When I arrived, William was already laid out on a stretcher, a white cloth covering his lifeless body. But this time, the cloth was soaked in blood. Real blood. The game was over.

His parents, Thomas and Nancy, sat nearby, putting on their best performance of grief.

When I arrived at the place, two officers were standing by William's body, waiting for me.

One of them stepped forward, his face set in a grim mask of professionalism. "Mrs. Carter," he began, his voice low and measured. "We’re sorry for your loss. It appears Mr. Carter may have been distracted while driving and didn’t hit the brakes in time, so he ended up crashing into the mountainside. His speed wasn’t that fast, but…" The officer hesitated for a moment as if the next part didn’t quite add up. "For some reason, the gas tank exploded upon impact. Despite immediate efforts to save him, he didn’t survive."

I should have felt something—shock, sorrow, disbelief—but instead, a strange calm settled over me. It was like watching a play unfold, every piece falling into place exactly as I had predicted. The officer’s words barely touched me. In fact, all I felt was an overwhelming urge to laugh. The irony of it all. William Carter died from his own hand, his grand scheme crumbling beneath him like the wreckage of his car.

As I took a step toward his covered body, ready to lift the sheet and see for myself, a sudden, sharp pain exploded across my cheek. My head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, and there, standing inches away, was Nancy, her face twisted with rage and grief.

"You!" she spat, her voice a venomous hiss. "You have no right to see my son. You killed him! It’s your fault he's dead! Ever since he married you, our family has known nothing but misery. You ruined him—you made him quit his job and turned him into an embarrassing househusband. And that worthless daughter you gave him…" Her voice broke, but her fury was unrelenting. "Now he’s gone, no one left to carry on our family name!"

Her words were like daggers, but I stood there, unmoved. The slap still stung, but it paled in comparison to the satisfaction bubbling beneath my surface. I didn’t flinch, didn’t react. I just watched them cling to their pathetic performance.

Thomas, frail and broken, staggered to his feet. His face was pale, the lines of age deepened by his sorrow, but his voice was firm as he glared at me. "Get out," he said, each word dripping with disdain. "You don’t belong here. You never did."