Evelyn's POV
The day my husband "died," my life fell apart—except, it was all a lie. A cruel, twisted game I never saw coming.
After the supposed car accident of my husband, William Carter, I was left with tens of millions in debt. Every IOU, every document, had my fingerprint on it—though I had never signed anything. I was forced to liquidate everything: our company, our home, every possession we had. I sold it all just to keep my head above water. But the debts seemed endless. By the end of it, I was penniless.
But even then, the universe wasn’t done with me. My daughter, Emily Carter, my precious light, fell ill. Desperate and with nowhere else to turn, I begged my in-laws for help. They were wealthy, their lives untouched by the devastation we faced, but their cruelty knew no bounds. They slammed the door in my face and told me it was all my fault—that this was the price I had to pay for coming to William’s life.
I fought to keep Emily alive. But without proper treatment, without any hope, she slipped away in a cold hospital bed, her tiny hand in mine.
The day my daughter died, the world lost its color. Linda Mitchell, my best friend since childhood, suggested I donate Emily’s organs, so that maybe, in some way, her life could continue through others. Through tear-filled eyes, I agreed. I thought it was the least I could do, something meaningful in all this chaos.
Years passed, and I found myself working as a cleaner in a mall, scrubbing the floors I used to stride across confidently. One afternoon, as I pushed my cart of supplies, I heard laughter—familiar laughter. I turned, and my blood ran cold. There, laughing and carefree, was William, my supposedly dead husband. And in his arms, wrapped in his embrace, was Linda.
They didn’t even flinch when they saw me. No guilt. No shame. Instead, they smiled—smug, victorious smiles. And then, with cold clarity, they told me the truth. The car accident? A fake. The debts? Real, but orchestrated by them. Every dollar, every ounce of my suffering, was their plan. And the worst blow? The lie about donating Emily's organs to help others. They hadn’t gone to strangers in need. They had gone to their child—Linda’s and William’s.
Rage consumed me. I lunged at them, my fists flying, my screams filling the mall. But they fought back, and with one vicious shove, they sent me tumbling down the stairs. I felt my body break as I hit the ground, and felt life drain from me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer lying broken on the mall floor. I was back—back to the day before William’s accident, before my life unraveled into a nightmare.
I shot up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, my chest heaving. The other side of the bed was empty—William, who should’ve been next to me, was nowhere to be found. The familiar surroundings of our luxurious villa came into focus. My hands trembled as I ran barefoot to Emily’s room. I threw the door open, and there she was—safe, sound, still breathing.
I had been reborn.
But the memories of my death, the betrayal, and the loss of my daughter were all too real. The grief and anger were still raw, coursing through me like fire.
How could I have been so blind? William had seemed like the perfect husband—charming, devoted, reliable. We had fallen in love fast, right after university, and married just as quickly. Our daughter was the culmination of our love, and my company thrived, giving us the prosperous life I thought we deserved. Every time we went to reunions, I was the envy of everyone. I thought I had it all.
But that perfect world had shattered overnight.
Less than a week after William’s "death," debt collectors had swarmed our home like vultures. They shoved papers in my face—papers I’d never signed but bore my fingerprints nonetheless. No matter how much I protested, no one believed me. The court ruled I was responsible. The life I had worked so hard to build was stripped away in the blink of an eye.
And then, as if that wasn’t enough, my sweet Emily fell ill. Kidney failure. My world tilted as I faced the possibility of losing her too. I did everything I could, but without money or support, there was no way I could get her the care she needed. I went to my in-laws and begged them for help, but they turned me away with sneers, saying it was my punishment for coming into my husband’s life.
Then, Linda had come back into my life. She arrived out of nowhere, seemingly out of kindness. I hadn’t seen her in years—not since she’d left after her scandalous out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She’d always refused to say who the father was. It all made sense now. I just hadn’t connected the dots.
Linda had paid for Emily’s treatment, but it was too late. Emily slipped away before we could save her.
In my grief, I had trusted Linda’s suggestion to donate Emily’s organs. I thought it would give my daughter’s death meaning. But it had all been part of their sick, twisted plot.
Chapter 2Evelyn's POV
Years passed in a blur, each day heavier than the last. My life had crumbled, reduced to sweeping floors and scrubbing tiles in a mall that once felt beneath me. The years of struggle had hardened me, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw that day.
Bent over with a mop in hand, I heard a familiar laugh. My blood turned to ice as I slowly raised my head. There, just a few feet away, was William. He was supposed to be dead, yet there he stood, alive and well, looking almost exactly as he had years ago—smug, carefree, and untouched by the wreckage he'd left in his wake.
My breath caught in my throat, and before I knew it, I was walking towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes landed on me, widening slightly as he took me in. His lips curled into a sneer, and he let out a soft chuckle.
"Oh, it’s you," he said, giving me a slow, mocking once-over. "How did you end up like this? It’s so embarrassing."
The sting of his words cut deep, but before I could respond, a voice chimed in from behind him.
"Honey, who are you talking to?"
I froze. That voice… I’d know it anywhere.
Linda.
She appeared beside William, her arm slipping through his as she smiled sweetly at him. When her gaze shifted to me, the smile faltered for just a second—just long enough for the truth to flicker in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the same patronizing smile I’d seen countless times before.
"Oh, Evelyn," Linda cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I thought you’d be long dead by now. Guess you're tougher than I gave you credit for."
Her words sank in like poison, and before I could speak, William pulled her closer. They stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, right in front of me. I felt my fury boil, but my body trembled, powerless.
Linda continued, her tone suddenly light and casual as if she were discussing the weather, "By the way, we never properly thanked you. You helped William and me so much, paying off all that debt and giving us the freedom we deserved. Oh, and especially for donating your daughter's heart to our son. It’s because of you that he’s grown up healthy and strong."
Her words struck like a hammer to my chest, knocking the wind out of me. My daughter’s heart… went to their son? The world around me blurred as the horrifying truth sank in. Every sacrifice I’d made, every tear I’d shed—it had all been part of their sick, twisted plan. They had played me from the start.
I had wondered for years why Linda had suddenly disappeared after her pregnancy. I assumed she was ashamed, afraid that I’d look down on her. But now I understand. It wasn’t shame that kept her away—it was hate.
The betrayal was like a fire consuming me from the inside. I couldn’t think. I lunged at them, screaming, desperate to rip them apart. My fists swung wildly, but I was weak—too weak. They were strong and well-kept, living in luxury while I had withered into a shadow of my former self.
In mere moments, they shoved me away like I was nothing. I stumbled, the world spinning around me as I tumbled down the stairs. My body hit the ground with a sickening thud. Pain shot through me, and then—nothing. Darkness swallowed me whole.
Just then, I heard William’s voice called out from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts. "Honey, why are you just standing there?"
I turned to him with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Just remembering something I need to take care of. You go ahead and sleep; I’ll be in the study."
He nodded, pretending to care. "Don’t stay up too late," he said as he turned and headed for bed.
I stood there, watching him walk away, my mind replaying every betrayal. I knew what he was up to. He was meeting Linda, plotting his fake death, setting up the trap they thought would ruin me again.
But this time, I wouldn’t let them win.
I slowly descended the stairs, my eyes on the dark garage. The events of tomorrow were already written in my memory. William’s "accident." The car crash that wasn’t supposed to kill him, just set the stage for their elaborate scam. But I wasn’t going to play by their rules anymore.
If he wanted to gamble his life, I’d make sure the stakes were higher than he ever imagined.
The next afternoon, I received a call from the hospital.
I didn’t rush this time. I took my time getting there, walking at my own pace, knowing full well what awaited me. When I arrived, William was already laid out on a stretcher, a white cloth covering his lifeless body. But this time, the cloth was soaked in blood. Real blood. The game was over.
His parents, Thomas and Nancy, sat nearby, putting on their best performance of grief.
When I arrived at the place, two officers were standing by William's body, waiting for me.
One of them stepped forward, his face set in a grim mask of professionalism. "Mrs. Carter," he began, his voice low and measured. "We’re sorry for your loss. It appears Mr. Carter may have been distracted while driving and didn’t hit the brakes in time, so he ended up crashing into the mountainside. His speed wasn’t that fast, but…" The officer hesitated for a moment as if the next part didn’t quite add up. "For some reason, the gas tank exploded upon impact. Despite immediate efforts to save him, he didn’t survive."
I should have felt something—shock, sorrow, disbelief—but instead, a strange calm settled over me. It was like watching a play unfold, every piece falling into place exactly as I had predicted. The officer’s words barely touched me. In fact, all I felt was an overwhelming urge to laugh. The irony of it all. William Carter died from his own hand, his grand scheme crumbling beneath him like the wreckage of his car.
As I took a step toward his covered body, ready to lift the sheet and see for myself, a sudden, sharp pain exploded across my cheek. My head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, and there, standing inches away, was Nancy, her face twisted with rage and grief.
"You!" she spat, her voice a venomous hiss. "You have no right to see my son. You killed him! It’s your fault he's dead! Ever since he married you, our family has known nothing but misery. You ruined him—you made him quit his job and turned him into an embarrassing househusband. And that worthless daughter you gave him…" Her voice broke, but her fury was unrelenting. "Now he’s gone, no one left to carry on our family name!"
Her words were like daggers, but I stood there, unmoved. The slap still stung, but it paled in comparison to the satisfaction bubbling beneath my surface. I didn’t flinch, didn’t react. I just watched them cling to their pathetic performance.
Thomas, frail and broken, staggered to his feet. His face was pale, the lines of age deepened by his sorrow, but his voice was firm as he glared at me. "Get out," he said, each word dripping with disdain. "You don’t belong here. You never did."
Chapter 3Evelyn'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.”
Chapter 4Evelyn'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!”