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Buried Alive With My Fake Husband Novel Cover

Buried Alive With My Fake Husband

I woke up in total darkness, the air smelling of stale chemicals and dying flowers. When I tried to sit up, my forehead slammed into solid wood just three inches from my face. I was trapped in a coffin, buried alive next to the cold, stiff body of my fake husband, Cedric. My stepmother, Hermina, had poisoned our champagne at the gala to seize my trust fund, and now she was hosting a lavish memorial service for us right outside the lid. I found a faint, erratic pulse in Cedric's neck, but I couldn't just scream for help. If Hermina realized the dose wasn't lethal, she'd finish the job with a lethal injection under the guise of medical assistance. To survive, I bit my tongue until I tasted blood and tore my hair into a tangled mess. When I finally kicked the lid open and spilled onto the marble floor, I didn't act like a rescued heiress; I crawled like a broken doll, shrieking about poisoned bubbles and "the bad man" while Manhattan's elite watched in absolute horror. The betrayal was suffocating. My own family watched as Hermina tried to sedate me back into silence, playing the role of a grieving saint while her eyes remained cold as ice. Even more shocking was Cedric, who rose from the casket like a predator, commanding the room with a terrifying authority that proved our entire marriage had been a lie. I couldn't understand how many secrets were buried in that house, or why my "boring" husband was suddenly acting like a man who owned the city. After kneeing Cedric in the stomach to break his iron grip, I bolted out into the torrential rain. I didn't care that I was barefoot or that the world thought I was insane. I had the key to my father's secret safe in my hand, and I was going to make sure Hermina paid for every second of darkness she forced me to endure.
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Chapter 5

The sprinklers sputtered and died. The fire alarm cut off, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

All they could hear was the drip, drip, drip of water falling from the chandeliers.

"He..." Beatrice's voice trembled. "He is warm."

Hermina struggled to her feet, cradling her dangling wrist. "It's the chemicals!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Heat reaction! Don't touch him!"

Dr. Sterling, the family physician who had signed the death certificates, pushed through the crowd. He looked terrified.

"Dame Beatrice, please," he said, reaching for her. "This is disturbing the remains."

Delphine jumped up. She placed herself between the doctor and the old woman.

She tilted her head. She smiled a goofy, lopsided smile.

"Doctor bad man," she said. "Gave Cedric sleepy juice."

Sterling paled. "She's delusional."

He tried to shove past Delphine.

She grabbed the stethoscope hanging around his neck. She yanked it hard, pulling his head down, then ripped it from his ears.

She shoved the earpieces into Beatrice's hands.

"Listen to the butterflies!" she giggled. "Listen to the butterflies in his chest!"

Beatrice looked at Delphine, confusion warring with hope. She put the stethoscope in her ears.

"Let her check!" someone shouted from the back.

Sterling froze. He couldn't stop her without looking guilty.

Beatrice leaned over the coffin. She pressed the cold metal disc to Cedric's chest, right over his heart.

They waited.

One second. Five seconds. Ten.

Beatrice's shoulders slumped. The light went out of her eyes. She pulled the stethoscope away.

"Nothing," she whispered. "It's silent."

Delphine's stomach dropped.

No. She felt it. She felt the pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

"I told you," Hermina spat. "He is gone. Delphine is mad."

"We must close the casket," Sterling said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The body is degrading."

Two guards moved toward Delphine with a straitjacket.

She backed up until her legs hit the wood of the coffin. She reached behind her. Her hand found Cedric's hand.

She squeezed. She dug her nails into the soft web of skin between his thumb and index finger. Hard. Cruel.

Wake up, you bastard.

The guards reached for Delphine.

Then she felt it.

A twitch. A distinct, sharp jerk of his thumb against her palm.

It was electric.

Delphine looked up. Her eyes locked with Hermina's. She dropped the smile.

"He pinched me!" she shouted. "The prince is awake!"

The guards grabbed Delphine's arms. They started to drag her away.

"No! He's alive! Check him again!"

They didn't listen. They dragged her across the wet floor.

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