My Fiancé Faked His Death, So I Married His Uncle

I pressed a hand to my burning cheek, slowly turning my head. My face stung, but I didn’t react. I didn’t cry, didn’t flinch.

Jason, however, looked away. Just for a second. Like he had seen something in my expression that made him uncomfortable.

But Yolanda wasn’t about to let it go.

"Whitney," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "Jason lost his memory and he’s still willing to let you be his mistress. You should be grateful. But instead, you're trying to ruin him?

“You know how much Connor loves his wife and yet you have the nerve to pretend to be Jason’s aunt? You’re literally dragging him down with you. You’re selfish and cruel!"

Her words barely registered. Yolanda had been ruining my life for as long as I could remember.

She was my stepfather’s daughter. On the seventh day after my father died, while we were still mourning in the funeral hall, my mother grabbed me by the back of the head and forced me to bow, forcing me to accept Yolanda as my ‘sister.’

She was like a ghost, always lurking, always watching, never allowing me to have anything for myself.

If she could take something from me, she did. If she couldn’t, she made sure no one else could have it either.

Five years ago, Jason had been my shield, standing in front of me like some untouchable force. Back then, he had looked at her with nothing but cold disdain, shutting her down without hesitation.

Now?

Now, he stood in front of her, throwing a thick stack of cash at my feet. "Isn’t this what you wanted?" His voice was slow, mocking. "Go ahead. Pick it up."

The edges of the bills were sharp, one of them catching my forehead as it fluttered down. A thin line of blood appeared just above my brow.

I didn’t wipe it away. But I did notice the flicker of hesitation in Jason’s eyes. Then, as if realizing he had slipped, he covered it up with a smirk.

I bent down. He let out a breath, laughing. "There we go. Knew you’d cave. A dog should act like a dog—"

I ignored him. I wasn’t reaching for the money. I was picking up the ring that had been thrown into the corner, half-buried under the scattered cash.

When I straightened, Jason’s smirk was gone. His expression darkened, his fingers twitching at his sides.

For the first time that night, he looked… uneasy. Before I could step away, he grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and almost desperate.

"You really won’t let it go, will you?" His voice was low, his teeth clenched. "What, the money on the floor isn’t enough? You still need to hold onto a fake, broken ring?"

I frowned, confused. "Let go."

He didn’t. His grip only tightened. His jaw flexed like he was struggling to hold something back.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice dropped, frustration bleeding into his tone. "Fine. Yolanda and I are getting married in a week. My uncle’s coming home that day too.

"Why don’t you show up?" He leaned in, his voice laced with something sharp. "You can watch the wedding and while you’re at it, let my uncle see for himself what kind of pathetic, shameless garbage I threw away."

When Yolanda heard the word wedding, her whole face lit up. She could barely hide her excitement.

"Whitney, what’s wrong?" she teased, tilting her head. "You’re not scared to come, are you? Afraid of getting exposed?"

I carefully put the ring away, not bothering to look at her as I replied, voice flat. "Alright, I’ll go. Just don’t regret it later."

Then I walked out.

I stopped just outside the door, lingering for a moment. Maybe I just needed a second to breathe. Maybe I was waiting to hear what they would say once they thought I was gone.

Jason’s friend sighed. "Dude, you sure you didn’t take it too far? I don’t know, something about Whitney seemed… off. What if she actually got married?"

Jason let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, right. She’s just putting on an act."

His tone was full of confidence, like the thought of me moving on was so impossible that it wasn’t even worth considering. "She’s just playing hard to get. Trust me, I know her. This is her way of trying to get my attention."

But after a beat, he went quiet, probably thinking back to the way I had looked at him before I left. How calm I had been. How… unbothered.

Something about it must’ve unsettled him because when he spoke again, his voice had a slight edge.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I’m done playing anyway. After the wedding, I’ll 'get my memory back,' throw in some sad apologies, tell her she’s the only one I ever loved. Watch, she’ll be back at my feet in no time."

The group laughed, shaking their heads.

"Damn, Jason," one of them snickered. "You really got this whole thing figured out, huh?"

Jason grinned, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. "What can I say? One little case of amnesia and I got to live it up for five years. Meanwhile, Whitney spent those five years waiting for me, miserable and alone. No other man. No second chances. Just me."

Yolanda pouted, resting her head on his shoulder. "But Jason, if you get your memory back, what happens to me?"

Jason laughed, pinching her waist. "Relax. It’ll be the same as before. And besides…" He smirked. "Sneaking around is way more fun."

More laughter. More voices blending together in amusement. I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.

I turned and walked straight to the hotel entrance, my chest tight. The second I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, then another, trying to swallow the nausea creeping up my throat.

Jason had no idea. Five years ago, on the night he was supposedly killed in a car accident, I received a video. One I could never forget.

I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen and his voice filled my ears, light, amused, like he was talking about the weather.

"I love Whitney, but man, she’s just so dull. The thought of only having her for the rest of my life? Boring as hell.

"I’ll fake my death, disappear for a few years. When I come back, I’ll say I lost my memory. Oh, and make sure you get plenty of footage of her losing it over me. I can’t wait to see her completely fall apart."