Betrayed by the CEO: I Faked My Death and Married Another

Their laughter only grew louder. Finally, the man who had remained silent spoke. He sat sprawled on the sofa, exhaling a lazy plume of cigarette smoke. "Leave." "Even if you knelt here and kowtowed a hundred times, we wouldn't help you." Because Austin had given them their orders long before. Punishment was punishment. For three full years, they were forbidden to show me an ounce of mercy or offer me the slightest convenience. Only then could they properly avenge his precious secretary, Kathy Barnes. So how did I scrape together that five hundred dollars? I walked into a hospital and sold my blood. Later, I took that money to the prison, only to be told Austin had already been released on medical parole. The cash changed hands until it finally reached one of Austin's friends. I was so desperate I nearly dropped to my knees. "Please—please make sure this money gets to Austin. He can't get into any more trouble." But at that very moment, Austin was with his little secretary at Disneyland, posing for photos like they didn't have a care in the world. He tossed that five hundred dollars at a staff member like it was a crumpled receipt. "Dirty money from god knows where. Disgusting." Just like my heart—trampled without a second thought. And now, here was Austin, personally overseeing every detail of Kathy's birthday gala. A blue-and-white porcelain vase worth hundreds of thousands of dollars sat on display as mere decoration. Every detail had been planned to perfection. But I couldn't bear to watch anymore. I nearly lost control more than once. I wanted to storm up there, to slap him across the face so hard my palm would sting for days. I wanted to demand answers. Why did you lie to me for three years? Just because I made Kathy work as a maid for three days? I wanted to tear off my clothes and show him every scar, every wound I'd collected over these three years. But in the end, I did nothing. I watched the man who should have been behind bars for three more days. He stood there in a suit that cost more than everything I owned, looking every inch the ruthless tycoon. He pulled Kathy—his little princess—into his arms, his face soft with adoration as he wished her a happy birthday. Then I turned away, expressionless, and went back to my basement rental. Dark. Damp. I'd lived here for three years. The bathroom was right by the door. Mold crept across the walls in patches that had accumulated over months, years. The smell of rot drifted through the air without warning. When I first moved in, I threw up every single day. For the first twenty-five years of my life, I'd been pampered. The precious eldest daughter of the Sanchez family. I'd never known a day of hardship. I was an internationally renowned painter. Awards lined my shelves—so many I'd lost count. At the height of my success, Austin Vance—the golden heir of the Vance family—got down on one knee and proposed. After we married, he spoiled me even more. Just like that, I'd become the woman every girl dreamed of being. The media called me "life's winner." Until Austin hired a timid, soft-spoken secretary named Kathy Barnes. She was the daughter of my family's housekeeper, yet she competed with me at every turn. Her clothes weren't as fine as mine, so she mocked me as a useless trophy wife. Her skills couldn't match mine, so she whispered behind my back that I'd either been born lucky or slept my way to the top. Worse still, she'd schemed her way into becoming Austin's secretary—and never missed a chance to poison him against me. She told him I bullied her mother at home. That I ruined her clothes. That I'd forced her to kneel and serve me like a maid. I thought the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend myself. Until the day I finally finished the painting I'd worked on for two years. I was about to have it framed. I stepped out for just a moment. When I came back, it was covered in ink.

Kathy stood nearby, ink bottle in hand, looking insufferably pleased with herself. "Two whole years you spent on that painting. Let's see how you'll show off in front of Austin now." I was livid. My hand flew before I could think, cracking across her face. "You're always spreading rumors that I make you work like a servant," I said coldly. "Fine. For the next three days, you'll actually be one. Clean up my gallery until it sparkles." But the moment the words left my mouth, the door burst open. Austin strode in, his brow furrowed. Without a word, he pulled Kathy behind him. "Pearl, can you control that temper of yours for once?" His voice was ice. "Kathy tries so hard. Yes, she comes from a difficult background—but why do you insist on targeting her?" My chest heaved with fury. "Austin, get your facts straight. She started—" Before I could finish, Kathy threw herself into his arms, sobbing. "Austin, it's all my fault! I was just trying to help Pearl clean her studio, and I accidentally ruined her painting. She said she'd sell me to the red-light district! She called my mother a whore and said the apple didn't fall far from the tree!" Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face—the picture of wounded innocence. "I can take being hit. I can take being yelled at. But why does she have to drag my mother into this?" Austin didn't ask for my side. Didn't investigate. He simply believed her. His gaze turned frigid. "Pearl, when did you become this person? I'm disappointed in you." I wanted to scream. Even with Austin defending her, I refused to back down. For three days, Kathy scrubbed and swept like the servant she'd pretended to be. When it was over, Austin acted as if nothing had happened. He just sighed—light, dismissive. "That temper of yours, Pearl. When will you learn to let things go? It was just a painting." "You've had your revenge. Let's move on." I was naive enough to believe we had. A few days later, news broke that Austin's company had collapsed. He was arrested shortly after, leaving me to deal with the wreckage. At first, I wasn't worried. Even if the Vance family fell, I still had my parents. I called them immediately. Both numbers had been disconnected. Panic clawed at my throat. I rushed home, only to have Graham meet me at the door, his face ashen. The day they heard about Austin's arrest, my parents had raced back to help. A landslide caught their car on the mountain road. Neither survived. In a single night, my world collapsed. No husband. No parents. No one left to lean on. I sold everything I owned and moved into a damp basement, hiding from the debt collectors who'd bought up Austin's gambling IOUs. Sleep became impossible. I'd lie awake, flinching at every sound. Eventually, they found me. A group of men kicked down my door, armed with metal pipes. They shattered two of my ribs. Broke my wrist so badly I could never hold a brush again. It took three years to accept my fate. I gave up everything—my art, my pride, my dreams—just to survive. And now I was being told it was all a lie. Austin's "punishment" had stripped me raw, peeled away everything I was, and rebuilt me into someone I didn't recognize. My phone buzzed. A message from Austin. "Pearl, I'm being released in three days. Don't forget to pick me up." My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. A dull ache spread through my chest. Even now, he was still playing his games. He was already at his birthday party. I'd seen it with my own eyes. He'd been holding Kathy, celebrating, surrounded by an enormous cake and beautiful decorations. And yet he was still treating me like a fool. I stared at those words until tears blurred my vision. Then I blinked them away and read the message again.

I typed out a reply: "Okay. I'll pick you up in three days." Three days later, I went to the prison gates to collect Austin—without exposing his lies. I spotted him from a distance, dressed in tattered clothes. Playing the part of a man ruined by bankruptcy, living in squalor. He'd even used makeup to create a fake scar across his face. The moment he saw me, he limped over, rushing toward me with exaggerated emotion. "Pearl!" He pulled me into his arms, eyes glistening with tears. "I reflected on everything while I was inside. They said I showed excellent behavior, so they released me early." "Pearl, you've been through so much these past years. I'm so sorry." He looked so sincere, so deeply moved—as if he'd truly suffered through three years behind bars. But I gently pushed him away, my expression unchanged. "It's good you're out." Austin froze, seemingly sensing something off about me. But the next second, he grabbed my wrist. "Pearl, what happened to your wrist?" His concern seemed genuine. But I found it almost laughable. Austin, what exactly are you pretending for? You're the one who sent those people. They showed up pretending to be debt collectors and beat me until I looked like this. And now you're playing innocent? A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Or maybe I was just afraid to face what would happen if I tore away the mask. "It's nothing. I fell." I pulled my hand free. "The doctor said it'll heal with time." Austin finally relaxed, letting out a breath. "That's good." He reached for my hand again, lacing his fingers through mine with practiced tenderness. "The injury's on your right wrist. If it gets worse and affects your painting, you'll be crying your eyes out again." His voice dripped with indulgence. But every word cut straight through me. I used to have extraordinary talent for painting. International awards, more than I could count. Everyone said I had a brilliant future ahead of me. But for those drug trials—for that money— To get Austin out of prison sooner— I let them destroy my wrist. Now I can't even hold a brush. And now I'm told it was all just a punishment game Austin orchestrated. How utterly absurd. I stayed silent the entire drive. Austin seemed nervous, filling the quiet with endless chatter. Obviously rehearsed lines he'd pulled from the internet. All to convince me he'd really spent three years in prison. I listened without really hearing. When he finally stopped, I asked quietly: "Austin." "Did I do something wrong?" He went completely still. His eyes reddened as he turned to look at me. "What do you mean, Pearl? Why would you ask that?" I suddenly remembered the last time I'd been allowed to visit. I was so happy. I'd saved up my pocket money for ages and bought some meat to cook for him—a proper meal I'd made myself. No wonder he'd wrinkled his nose and refused to touch it. He thought the meat was cheap. Of course. I believed he'd spent three years suffering in prison. But in reality, he'd been traveling the world with his little secretary. Fine dining. Imported delicacies. Why would he ever lower himself to share my hardships? Even that prison visit—he'd paid a hundred and twenty dollars to stage the whole thing. These past three years, I'd been nothing but a fool. Their plaything, spun in circles by their lies. When Austin saw my tears, panic flashed across his face. He stepped closer, reaching up to wipe them away. "Pearl, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

I looked into his eyes. "If someone hurt me, what would you do?" "Would you still protect me like you swore before—no matter what, even if it cost you your life?" Austin fumbled for a tissue, his movements clumsy as he wiped my tears. He didn't even hesitate. Just nodded, firm and certain. "Anything, Pearl. Whatever you ask, I'll do it." I held his gaze—those eyes so full of sincerity. "Really?" "Then kill Kathy Barnes." His head snapped up. He stared at me, stunned. "What did you say?" A flicker of panic crossed his face. "Did something happen? Did you misunderstand something?" He was terrified I'd figured it out. His whole body went rigid. "After the company went bankrupt, Kathy resigned and went abroad. I haven't had any contact with her in three years." "Did she come after you while I was in prison? If she did, I swear I'll make her pay—" I grabbed his arm and let out a soft laugh. "Relax. I was kidding." "Murder is illegal, you know." "You just got out of prison. You think I'd let you go back?" "I was just teasing." I turned away, lowering my eyes as I reached for something. He couldn't see my expression. He thought it was really just a joke. I heard him exhale with relief. "Pearl, I'm sorry." "These three years... you must have suffered so much." I didn't turn around. But in my heart, I was thinking: It's fine. Your reckoning is coming. After Austin's release, I started visiting the hospital more and more frequently. Dr. Ethan Caldwell looked at me over his glasses. "Are you really not going to tell your family?" "This isn't some minor illness. Your husband has a right to know." I shook my head with a faint smile. "Let's just leave it. I don't want him to know. And I don't want treatment anymore." Austin was hiding in the corridor, catching fragments of the conversation—but nothing clear. When I stepped out, his face was all concern. "How did it go? What did the doctor say?" I smiled and shook my head, about to answer— When Kathy's call came through. "Austin, my water pipe burst and I'm soaked. Can you come fix it for me?" His expression shifted instantly. "Sure. I'm on my way." He thought I hadn't heard. Covering the phone, he turned to me with a perfectly straight face. "Pearl, remember that new project I mentioned? I'm going to meet with them now. If it works out, we might finally get back on our feet." I stared into his eyes. When he'd proposed to me, those same eyes had been filled with nothing but sincerity. Now they looked just as sincere. But the lies rolled off his tongue without so much as a blink. My unbroken gaze made him uneasy. He nearly tripped over his own act. "Pearl... is something wrong?" "Go ahead." "If you can turn things around, we won't have to worry about those debt collectors anymore."

Those debt collectors—every single one of them had been sent by Austin himself. They'd cornered me in dead-end alleys. Stripped the house of anything worth selling. Most weeks I ate once every three days. When the hunger became unbearable, I'd drink tap water just to fill my stomach. I thought about last night—waking up in tears, asking Austin: "Where are my parents?" When his company collapsed, I'd tried to reach them for help. But they'd vanished. No answer, no trace. Austin told me they'd been caught in a landslide on their way back. Both of them. Gone. They told me they never found the bodies. For three years, I searched—only to discover two days ago that my parents never died at all. Austin had tricked them into leaving the country. Three whole years. He'd been using my phone to send them messages, assuring them I was fine. They had no idea what kind of life I was actually living. "Austin." I looked him in the eyes, deciding to give him one last chance. "Is there anything you've been hiding from me?" He blinked, then reached over to ruffle my hair. "Silly girl. Why would I ever hide anything from you?" I lowered my gaze, letting the light fade from my eyes. "Good." After a long pause, I said, "I miss my parents." "First thing tomorrow, I'll take you to visit their graves." I asked about their estate—surely they'd left me something? But Austin's answer came out halting, evasive. "Everything happened so suddenly. Before I could sort out the inheritance, my enemies framed me and I ended up in prison." "Now I finally have time to investigate what really happened back then." His gaze flickered as he took my hand. "Pearl, maybe your parents aren't really dead. Maybe there's still hope." Ha. The three-year mark was approaching. He'd lied to me about their deaths, and now he couldn't keep the story straight anymore. So he pivoted—claimed there might be hope after all. Too bad. He'd already squandered his last chance. A few days later, Austin left under the pretense of a business meeting. In reality, he was going to see Kathy. I watched the clock hands crawl toward midnight, then scattered sleeping pills across the floor. My phone rang. Dr. Caldwell's voice was steady: "Everything's ready." I nodded and sent Austin a message: "Austin, your punishment wins. You wanted to stand up for Kathy? Fine. Take everything." "Take my life too." At that same moment, his phone buzzed relentlessly on the nightstand.