His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! - Chapter 101: Chapter 101
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I wore a blank expression as I methodically cleaned up the aftermath of their passion. Used condoms, torn underwear, rumpled sheets—I tossed everything into the trash and replaced the linens with fresh ones, moving on autopilot. Just another Tuesday in paradise.
During our three-year marriage, Marcus regularly brought different women home. I'd become disturbingly efficient at erasing these intimate encounters—like a crime scene cleaner who specializes in the traces of infidelity.
When I finished, Marcus emerged from the bathroom, steam following him into the bedroom. His perfectly sculpted abs still glistened with droplets, and his neck was marked with love bites, his face flushed with the afterglow of satisfaction.
"Did Zoe leave?" he asked casually, as though inquiring about the weather.
I offered a quiet "Mmm," my expression unchanged. No point in wasting words.
Marcus studied me for a moment before lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling upward to obscure his features in a hazy veil.
"Zoe's pregnant with my child," he said flatly, the words hanging in the air between us.
I forced a numb smile. "Congratulations."
Marcus took one final drag before stubbing out his cigarette. He walked to the nightstand with measured steps and pulled out a neatly bound document from the drawer.
"She's suffered enough these past three years," he said, as if Zoe were the wronged party in our bizarre triangle. "I need to make it official now."
When he handed the papers over, I saw the words "DIVORCE AGREEMENT" printed boldly across the top. Not exactly a surprise ending to our story.
"Sign this, and I'll grant you one request, anything," Marcus said impatiently, already mentally checked out of our marriage.
"Fine. Wire me ten million dollars to help my family's company through this crisis." I replied without hesitation, taking the agreement and signing my name without bothering to read it. What difference would the details make now?
Marcus looked stunned for a moment. He'd expected me to fight, to cry, to beg—not to agree so readily. A strange heaviness seemed to settle in his chest.
"Deal. Just don't interfere with Zoe's and my life afterward," he snapped, overcompensating for his momentary confusion.
"Don't worry. I have no interest in such boring matters," I replied expressionlessly, returning the document to him.
Embarrassed and suddenly angry, Marcus grabbed the papers, hastily signed his name, and slammed the door behind him as he left. The walls practically vibrated with his frustration.
After I heard his car start in the driveway, my body seemed to lose all strength. I collapsed onto the floor, my thoughts drifting hazily, like smoke without direction.
Marcus and I had been forced together through a family arrangement. We hadn't even met before our wedding day—just two pawns moved across a chessboard by players who cared only about business advantage.
We ended up in a strange, polite marriage that lasted three years. Two strangers sharing a house, barely acknowledging each other's existence beyond necessary courtesies.
In reality, we both had someone else we couldn't forget.
I had a boyfriend from college named Caleb. We were inseparable for years, the campus power couple everyone admired and envied in equal measure. Our love was the kind people write songs about—passionate, all-consuming, and seemingly unbreakable.
But when my parents found out, they were furious. They burned all our letters and gifts, as if they could erase him from my life through fire.
They couldn't accept Caleb—a man without money or connections. In their eyes, love was just another commodity to be traded for maximum profit.
Eventually, they locked me in the house, confiscated my phone and computer, and prevented us from meeting. I became a prisoner in my own home, walls closing in a little more each day.
On one stormy night, while I sat crying on my bed, I spotted Caleb below my window, his face desperate with worry, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
I climbed out through a ventilation duct and fell into his arms, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
"Let's run away, right now!" I cried, clinging to him like a lifeline.
We ran through the darkness, fighting for our freedom, the rain soaking us to the bone. Every splash through puddles felt like a small victory, every street corner we turned brought us closer to escape.
Just as we neared the airport, a flash of lightning illuminated several tall figures in suits in the distance.
My family's bodyguards.
Before I could react, I was forcefully restrained, my hands and knees pinned to the ground, gravel biting into my skin.
"Olivia!" Caleb fought desperately against several men, his voice raw with desperation.
Then the unthinkable happened.
A car sped toward us through the darkness, its horn blaring, accelerating directly toward Caleb. The headlights grew larger, brighter, inevitable.
After a violent crash, dark red blood splattered everywhere, burning hot against my skin like some terrible baptism.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I screamed helplessly before darkness claimed me.
When I woke up, I was told Caleb was dead.
I wasn't even allowed to follow him in death. The very next day, I was forced into marriage with Marcus—a business arrangement sealed with vows neither of us meant.
These past years, I've tried to be a dutiful wife, maintaining our outwardly perfect but emotionally barren home.
Even when Marcus brought different women home, even when Zoe returned and repeatedly came to our house to taunt me... I endured it all in silence.
Because I simply didn't care anymore.
I survived countless unbearable nights by clinging to fragmented, beautiful memories of Caleb. Our laughter echoing across campus, his fingers threading through mine, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
That past had scarred me deeply, never to be erased.
I'd fulfilled my parents' wishes, convincing Marcus to save our family business. A few more months—just until the court makes its decision. Then, finally, I'll be free.
In the silent darkness, a shrill phone ring jolted me back to reality. The cool night breeze touched my cheeks through the window, carrying with it the scent of impending rain.
I touched my eyes, only then realizing my face was streaked with tears. With a deep breath, I composed myself, wiping away the evidence of emotion.
After checking the caller ID, I answered the phone to hear Marcus's impatient voice:
"Twilight Lounge. Come now."
Not a request. A command.
During our three-year marriage, Marcus regularly brought different women home. I'd become disturbingly efficient at erasing these intimate encounters—like a crime scene cleaner who specializes in the traces of infidelity.
When I finished, Marcus emerged from the bathroom, steam following him into the bedroom. His perfectly sculpted abs still glistened with droplets, and his neck was marked with love bites, his face flushed with the afterglow of satisfaction.
"Did Zoe leave?" he asked casually, as though inquiring about the weather.
I offered a quiet "Mmm," my expression unchanged. No point in wasting words.
Marcus studied me for a moment before lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling upward to obscure his features in a hazy veil.
"Zoe's pregnant with my child," he said flatly, the words hanging in the air between us.
I forced a numb smile. "Congratulations."
Marcus took one final drag before stubbing out his cigarette. He walked to the nightstand with measured steps and pulled out a neatly bound document from the drawer.
"She's suffered enough these past three years," he said, as if Zoe were the wronged party in our bizarre triangle. "I need to make it official now."
When he handed the papers over, I saw the words "DIVORCE AGREEMENT" printed boldly across the top. Not exactly a surprise ending to our story.
"Sign this, and I'll grant you one request, anything," Marcus said impatiently, already mentally checked out of our marriage.
"Fine. Wire me ten million dollars to help my family's company through this crisis." I replied without hesitation, taking the agreement and signing my name without bothering to read it. What difference would the details make now?
Marcus looked stunned for a moment. He'd expected me to fight, to cry, to beg—not to agree so readily. A strange heaviness seemed to settle in his chest.
"Deal. Just don't interfere with Zoe's and my life afterward," he snapped, overcompensating for his momentary confusion.
"Don't worry. I have no interest in such boring matters," I replied expressionlessly, returning the document to him.
Embarrassed and suddenly angry, Marcus grabbed the papers, hastily signed his name, and slammed the door behind him as he left. The walls practically vibrated with his frustration.
After I heard his car start in the driveway, my body seemed to lose all strength. I collapsed onto the floor, my thoughts drifting hazily, like smoke without direction.
Marcus and I had been forced together through a family arrangement. We hadn't even met before our wedding day—just two pawns moved across a chessboard by players who cared only about business advantage.
We ended up in a strange, polite marriage that lasted three years. Two strangers sharing a house, barely acknowledging each other's existence beyond necessary courtesies.
In reality, we both had someone else we couldn't forget.
I had a boyfriend from college named Caleb. We were inseparable for years, the campus power couple everyone admired and envied in equal measure. Our love was the kind people write songs about—passionate, all-consuming, and seemingly unbreakable.
But when my parents found out, they were furious. They burned all our letters and gifts, as if they could erase him from my life through fire.
They couldn't accept Caleb—a man without money or connections. In their eyes, love was just another commodity to be traded for maximum profit.
Eventually, they locked me in the house, confiscated my phone and computer, and prevented us from meeting. I became a prisoner in my own home, walls closing in a little more each day.
On one stormy night, while I sat crying on my bed, I spotted Caleb below my window, his face desperate with worry, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
I climbed out through a ventilation duct and fell into his arms, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
"Let's run away, right now!" I cried, clinging to him like a lifeline.
We ran through the darkness, fighting for our freedom, the rain soaking us to the bone. Every splash through puddles felt like a small victory, every street corner we turned brought us closer to escape.
Just as we neared the airport, a flash of lightning illuminated several tall figures in suits in the distance.
My family's bodyguards.
Before I could react, I was forcefully restrained, my hands and knees pinned to the ground, gravel biting into my skin.
"Olivia!" Caleb fought desperately against several men, his voice raw with desperation.
Then the unthinkable happened.
A car sped toward us through the darkness, its horn blaring, accelerating directly toward Caleb. The headlights grew larger, brighter, inevitable.
After a violent crash, dark red blood splattered everywhere, burning hot against my skin like some terrible baptism.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I screamed helplessly before darkness claimed me.
When I woke up, I was told Caleb was dead.
I wasn't even allowed to follow him in death. The very next day, I was forced into marriage with Marcus—a business arrangement sealed with vows neither of us meant.
These past years, I've tried to be a dutiful wife, maintaining our outwardly perfect but emotionally barren home.
Even when Marcus brought different women home, even when Zoe returned and repeatedly came to our house to taunt me... I endured it all in silence.
Because I simply didn't care anymore.
I survived countless unbearable nights by clinging to fragmented, beautiful memories of Caleb. Our laughter echoing across campus, his fingers threading through mine, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
That past had scarred me deeply, never to be erased.
I'd fulfilled my parents' wishes, convincing Marcus to save our family business. A few more months—just until the court makes its decision. Then, finally, I'll be free.
In the silent darkness, a shrill phone ring jolted me back to reality. The cool night breeze touched my cheeks through the window, carrying with it the scent of impending rain.
I touched my eyes, only then realizing my face was streaked with tears. With a deep breath, I composed myself, wiping away the evidence of emotion.
After checking the caller ID, I answered the phone to hear Marcus's impatient voice:
"Twilight Lounge. Come now."
Not a request. A command.
End of His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! Chapter 101. Continue reading Chapter 102 or return to His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! book page.