You Fake Death, I Play Along

In the days that followed, I started putting on the act of being heartbroken, making sure no one doubted it.

No need to plan it, just replaying Ethan's chat with Claire was enough.

On the third day, William came to the door.

He sat on the living room sofa, dressed in a suit, his expression heavy.

I was in a wrinkled nightgown, hair unwashed for three days, my eyes swollen to slits.

“Zoe, about Ethan… we’re all very saddened. But you know his final wishes. The longer you delay about the child, the worse it is for your health.”

“I know,” I said, head lowered, my voice trembling.

“I’ve arranged everything at the hospital. The procedure will be led by experts; there’s minimal risk.”

I looked up at him, my eyes red-rimmed. “Mr. Shaw, can I have some more time to think?”

He studied me for a few seconds, sighed, and stood up to leave.

The moment the door closed, Liam’s voice sounded:

“Mom, he’s pushing you to terminate because Dad told him to. If the child is born, you get a share of the inheritance. If it’s terminated, you walk away empty-handed.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you argue with him?”

“Not the time yet.”

I stood and went to the bathroom to wash my face.

The woman in the mirror looked haggard, puffy, and streaked with tears.

I dug through a drawer, found a lipstick, swatched it on my hand, then put it back.

Not now.

On the fourth day, I started making calls.

“Hello, Attorney Walker? This is Zoe, Ethan's wife… Yes, I’d like to consult about marital property.”

He was the best divorce lawyer in the city, and his voice lowered on the line:

“Mrs. Rhodes, is now a convenient time to talk?”

“Yes. My husband is dead.”

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

“…My condolences.”

I read him a list of all the assets I could trace under Ethan's name.

After listening, he asked, “Are you sure that’s everything?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m consulting you.”

After hanging up, I contacted the banks and financial advisors.

I didn’t know most of Ethan’s account passwords, but Liam did.

“Mom, the account he hid at Meridian Bank, the password is Claire’s birthday. Just call and ask for the balance. The bank will give it to you.”

I picked up the phone, fingers hesitating.

“And?”

“His Porsche was financed, don’t take it, let him pay it off himself. There’s a house under his mother’s name, you can’t get that. But there’s an apartment in Westwood, bought after the marriage, under his name. You get half.”

“How much is the apartment worth?”

“Over three million at market value. List it as a priority sale, ten thousand below market; it’ll sell within a week.”

I listened and took notes, seventeen items densely listed in my phone memo.

Stocks, investments, deposits, property, each marked with instructions on what to do.

On the fifth day, I went to Ethan's company to collect his “belongings.”

William led me into Ethan’s office. The door closed, and faint voices whispered outside:

“Poor Mrs. Rhodes, coming here with her belly…”

I stood in front of Ethan’s desk for a moment and picked up a photo frame.

It was our wedding photo. He had his arm around my waist, and I was smiling, eyes crinkled.

I put the frame into a box, tears dropping.

William lingered by the door, hesitant to speak.

“Zoe, about Ethan… if there’s anything you need help with, just say so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shaw.” I wiped my tears. “Can I stay a little longer?”

“Of course.”

The door closed.

I squatted, digging through the box, and opened the backing of the frame.

There was nothing inside.

I wasn’t looking for anything; I just wanted to confirm that he hadn’t left even a single photo.

I took three things from Ethan’s office: our wedding photo, a notebook he'd used for five years, and a pen he never used.

I brought the box home and placed it by the bed.

On the sixth night, I lay in bed, reviewing my phone notes from start to finish.

Forty-three million.

That was Liam’s calculation.

“Mom, are you nervous?”

“Not really.”

“Your heart rate’s at 110.”

“…A little.”

“Don’t worry. Everything you’re doing is legal. It's only natural for a wife to inherit the marital property after her husband passes away. His fake crash is his matter; transferring the assets is yours. No conflict.”

I rolled over, hands on my belly.

“Thank you, Liam.”

Liam paused for two seconds.

“Mom, don’t say that. Wait until I win this for you before you thank me.”

Seven days ago, I was crying at the funeral home. Seven days later, all of Ethan's liquid assets were on their way to me.

Liam’s voice came from my belly, calm and steady.

“Mom, the Bennetts are coming tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready?”

I touched my belly.

“Of course.”