Wife Fakes Death to Escape

I found Cole in his study, head in his hands, looking more exhausted than I'd ever seen him. The man who once confessed his love to me ninety-nine times now barely looked at me when I entered the room.

"Cole," I said softly, approaching his desk. "We need to talk about Dream."

He didn't lift his head. "There's nothing to discuss."

"She's manipulating you," I insisted, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. "She's not the innocent girl you think she is."

Finally, he looked up, but his eyes were cold—so cold I almost stepped back. "Violet, I'm beginning to worry about you."

Those words hit me like a physical blow. "Worry about me?"

"Yes," he said, straightening in his chair. "Dream told me you've been acting strangely—paranoid, accusing her of terrible things."

Before I could respond, the door opened and Dream glided in, her eyes red-rimmed as if she'd been crying. She moved straight to Cole, leaning against him with practiced vulnerability.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she whispered, though her eyes flicked to me with something like triumph. "I just needed to be near someone who believes me."

Cole's arm went around her shoulders automatically. "It's okay," he murmured. "Violet was just leaving."

I stood frozen, watching as Dream buried her face against Cole's chest, her body shaking with what appeared to be silent sobs.

"She's been so cruel to me," Dream whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "Calling me names, saying I'm trying to steal you away."

"That's not true!" I protested, but Cole's expression had already hardened.

"Violet," he said sharply. "Enough. Can't you see she's upset?"

I looked between them—my husband comforting the woman who was systematically destroying my life—and felt something break inside me.

---

Days later, I tried again. I found Cole alone in our bedroom, and I gently touched his arm.

"Cole, please," I began. "Just listen to me. Dream is—"

"Stop," he cut me off, pulling away from my touch. "I can't listen to any more accusations."

"But she's—"

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Violet," he said coldly. "Dream has done nothing but try to be part of our family, and you're treating her like an enemy."

His words stung worse than any physical blow. "How can you say that? After everything she's done?"

"What has she done?" Cole challenged, his voice rising. "Made a home movie that accidentally captured your mother's fall? Tried to welcome herself back into our lives?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "You know that's not all."

"The problem is you," he continued, his voice hardening. "You're so possessive, so determined to see evil in someone who just wants to be loved."

I felt tears burning behind my eyes. "Cole, please..."

"No," he said firmly. "I won't let you drive a wedge between me and my sister. She's been through enough."

---

That evening, Dream suggested a game night. "To bring us all together again," she insisted with her brightest smile.

I sat rigidly on the couch as Dream set up the board game, her movements graceful and deliberate. Cole sat beside her, occasionally brushing her hand or arm—small touches that once would have been innocent but now seemed calculated.

"Oh, I forgot the cards!" Dream exclaimed suddenly. "They're in the dining room."

She jumped up, and Cole followed her. I remained seated, my heart pounding with a sense of foreboding.

A moment later, I heard Dream's laughter from the other room—too loud, too sudden. Something compelled me to stand and walk toward the sound.

Through the doorway, I saw them—Cole and Dream locked in an embrace, their lips pressed together in what appeared to be a passionate kiss.

"Cole!" I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

They broke apart, but not quickly enough to hide what I'd seen. Dream's eyes met mine over Cole's shoulder, and in them I saw not shame but satisfaction.

"Oh, Violet," Dream said, her voice dripping with false remorse. "This isn't what it looks like."

Cole turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Violet—"

But I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. The room spun around me as Dream's hand slid possessively around Cole's waist.

"I told you she'd react this way," Dream whispered to Cole, just loud enough for me to hear. "She can't stand seeing us together."

"That's not—" I tried to protest, but my voice cracked.

"It's okay," Cole said, but he was looking at Dream, not me. "We were just playing a prank."

"A prank?" I echoed hollowly.

"Yes," Dream nodded earnestly. "A kiss prank! Just a game."

But as Cole turned back to me, I saw something in his eyes that chilled me to the bone—pity mixed with disgust.

"See?" Dream said softly. "I told you she'd overreact."

And in that moment, I realized the game had only just begun—and I was already losing everything.