I Made My Husband's Fake Death Real

Evelyn's POV

“Mom, Dad, I know William’s death is unbearable, but it’s already happened. The only thing left to do now is to let him rest in peace,” I said, my voice laced with false sympathy. At my subtle signal, a few of my people moved in, gently but firmly guiding Thomas and Nancy to sit down, their resistance brushed aside as if they were unruly children.

As William’s stretcher was pushed toward the cremation chamber, I could see panic flash across their faces, raw and desperate. This wasn’t the carefully crafted sorrow they had displayed earlier. Now, they looked genuinely terrified, their act crumbling in the face of real consequences.

The door to the cremation chamber slid shut with a heavy clang, sealing their son’s fate. That’s when Nancy cracked. “No! No, Evelyn, stop! My son isn’t dead! You’re murdering him, this is murder!” Her scream echoed in the sterile room, sharp and frenzied.

I sighed dramatically, playing my part to perfection. “Mom, I know it’s hard, but William’s gone. You need to accept it. Grieving is normal, but this... this denial isn’t healthy.”

Thomas, seeing that Nancy's outburst wasn’t enough to stop me, tried to salvage the situation. His voice was shaky, his control slipping. “William isn’t really dead. He... he... he was faking it!”

I feigned shock, eyes widening in disbelief. “What? How could that be? I saw photos of the car accident. There’s even a death certificate! Mom, Dad, are you hearing yourselves? This grief is making you lose touch with reality.”

Ignoring the elders, I glanced at the staff member, and with a quick nod, he pressed the button. The cremation chamber roared to life, fire licking the metal doors.

That was all it took for Nancy to completely lose it. With a wild scream, she tore free from the people holding her down, charging toward the controls like a woman possessed. Her hands slammed down on the button, cutting off the fire before it could do any real damage.

The room froze, stunned by her sudden ferocity. And then, in the chaos, Thomas lunged at me. His hands wrapped around my throat with such force I could barely breathe. “Get my son out!” he roared, his spit spraying across my face. “Or I’ll kill this bitch!”

Through the suffocating grip, I caught the eye of my cameraman in the distance. He gave me a reassuring nod, the camera was still rolling, capturing everything. Perfect.

The staff rushed to pull William from the chamber. He had only been there for a few seconds, but it was enough to singe his skin. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air—putrid and thick.

Nancy, her face a mask of horror, ran forward to smother the flames that had started to burn on William’s arms. Thomas shoved me aside, his strength fueled by pure desperation, sending me crashing into the scorching stretcher. The pain was instant and searing as my palms sizzled against the hot metal. Blood welled up as the skin peeled away, but I bit back my scream, letting only a tear or two escape for dramatic effect.

The onlookers, already shaken by the chaotic scene, were now filled with pity. A woman approached me, helping to bandage my burnt fingers. “Poor girl,” she whispered sympathetically, “your in-laws are clearly out of their minds from grief. Once this is over, you should take them to the hospital. They’re not well.”

I nodded, playing along, my voice soft and broken. “William was their only child... it’s no wonder they’re acting like this. But me and my daughter will do our best to take care of them now that William is gone.”

Nancy, her face twisted in fury, screamed, “Shut up! If my son has even the tiniest scratch on him, you’ll regret it!”

But it was already too late. William’s body, though pulled from the fire, was marred by charred patches of skin. The scent in the air was unbearable, a sickening mix of burnt flesh and desperation. Even now, in death—or the pretense of it—he was as repulsive as he had been in life.

Thomas, shaking with emotion, patted his son’s lifeless face. “William, wake up! Stop pretending! This crazy woman will burn you alive if you don’t!”

Nancy, sobbing uncontrollably, chimed in. “William, we can still fix this! Forget the fake death, forget everything! We’ll get a divorce and split the money... just stop scaring us like this!”