I Made My Husband's Fake Death Real

Evelyn's POV

Their reactions mirrored exactly what I remembered. Thomas and Nancy—the grieving parents, the mourners for a son who wasn’t really dead. Back then, they played their part so well, threatening suicide and guilt-tripping me to leave so William could quietly slip away from the crematorium. They thought they could manipulate me again, but this time, I knew better. I wouldn’t be their pawn.

I knelt beside them, hiding my smirk. “Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice heavy with faux sorrow, “I’m heartbroken too. If hitting me helps, then please—beat me to death. But as William’s lawful wife, it is my right to send him off on his final journey. No one can take that from me.”

My words drew the attention of the nearby officers, who couldn’t help but defend me. “Sir, ma'am, you need to focus on your health,” one of them said. “This accident wasn’t her fault. There’s no need to place blame.”

Thomas and Nancy exchanged a glance, frustration in their eyes. They couldn’t argue with the police, so they reluctantly let me stay. But I could see the tension building in them. The longer William’s body lay there, the more their plans crumbled. They were running out of time, and their nerves were beginning to fray.

Nancy, clearly desperate, tried a new tactic. She handed me a bottle of water, her smile tight. “You must be tired. Drink this. It’ll help.”

I took the bottle, pretending to be touched by the gesture, but the second I twisted the cap, I noticed it had already been opened. My heart raced, though I kept my expression innocent. Poison. Of course, they were getting desperate.

With teary eyes, I shook my head gently. “Mom, you’re so kind, but I can’t possibly drink this. You and Dad should have it instead.”

Nancy's composure faltered. We went back and forth until, in frustration, she slapped the bottle out of my hand. Water splattered across the floor. Her fury boiled over, and she slapped me, hard, before storming off in frustration.

I touched my cheek, the sting barely registering. I’d expected as much from her. They were unraveling faster than I thought, but the real test was yet to come.

When the crematorium’s vehicle arrived, their panic was palpable. They hadn't finalized their plan, and the two exchanged nervous glances. I almost laughed. They had pulled strings, spent resources, and thought they had orchestrated William's "death" perfectly. But now they were cornered. Faking death was no simple feat, and I wasn’t about to let them pull it off a second time.

Instead of getting into my car, I joined the crematorium staff, sitting beside William’s body in the transport van. I made a quiet call to the crematorium on the way, ensuring everything was in order. When we arrived, they were ready for him. William would be cremated immediately—before Thomas and Nancy could even think of spiriting him away.

As soon as we reached the crematorium, Thomas and Nancy made their move, blocking the door. They stood in front of the gurney, their eyes wide with desperation. “You can’t cremate him!” Nancy shrieked, her voice shrill. “We haven’t said goodbye properly! His friends, his family—they need to see him one last time.”

I raised an eyebrow, my patience wearing thin. “Mom, it’s the middle of summer. William’s body can’t be kept like this for long. The sooner we cremate him, the better. Do you really want people to see him like this?”

Without warning, I pulled back the sheet, revealing William’s broken and bloodied form. His once handsome face was now unrecognizable, twisted by the force of the accident. Nancy gasped, recoiling in horror, while Thomas turned away, his face pale.

“You see?” I said softly. “Do you want this to be the memory everyone holds of William? He cared so much about his appearance. Let’s preserve the memory of him as the strong, charming man he was.”

Nancy stammered, her voice cracking. “That—that won’t do. Emily hasn’t arrived yet. She deserves to say goodbye to her father.”

Emily. The name was like a dagger to my heart, twisting all the old wounds of my past life. How dare they invoke her name? The very daughter they betrayed, who died because of their selfishness. Because of William’s greed.

In my previous life, if they had lifted a finger to help, Emily wouldn’t have died. They had used her as a living organ bank for William and Linda’s child, leaving me with nothing but heartache and ashes.

I clenched my fists, forcing the venom from my voice. “Emily is too young to see her father like this. She loved him so much, seeing him like this would scar her forever. We need to cremate him now—for her sake if nothing else.”

Thomas, eyes full of fury, stepped forward and blocked me. “I am William’s father,” he growled. “I have the right to stop this. You’re not making the decisions here. I am.”