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Cracked After My Fake Death Novel Cover

Cracked After My Fake Death

In the modern fantasy Cracked After My Fake Death, a woman endures systemic abuse from three elite men—Frederick, Samuel, and Theodore—acting as a paid stand-in and scapegoat for their true loves. After surviving medical experiments and public humiliation, she waits for her system portal to open. At a joint engagement party, she rejects their forced confession, insults them, and leaps into the ocean. Believing she is dead, the devastated billionaires begin a frantic search for her body.
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Chapter 1

I was the greediest stand-in in high society, and my motto was simple. As long as cash kept coming, my dignity could take a back seat.

For Frederick Jameson, I played the role of his obedient pet, so when his true love accused me of stealing her necklace, I just bowed and apologized.

With Samuel York, I served as his lab rat, testing drugs meant for his sweetheart's condition until they left me with a bleeding ulcer.

And for Theodore Xander, I acted as a scapegoat, getting pushed out to take the blame of extortion for his crush.

They all assumed I was hopelessly in love with them, even forcing me to sign a confession at their joint engagement party.

That was when the system's voice chimed in, "Host, the portal home is now open."

I wiped the blood from my lips, splashed my wine into their faces, and grinned brightly. "Game over, losers!"

Right in front of everyone, I leaped straight into the sea.

Later, word spread that the three big shots scoured the entire ocean just to find my body.

"Frederick, that was the engagement necklace you gave me, worth $30 million. Lindsey was the only one who touched my collar earlier. I can't think of anyone else who could have taken it."

Frederick Jameson's true love clung to his arm, sobbing uncontrollably. With her accusation, every eye on the yacht's deck turned sharply in my direction.

The guests began to whisper among themselves.

"What else would you expect from someone with such humble origins? Sticky fingers all the way."

"Frederick has kept her around for five years, and she's still not content? Stealing his fiancée's necklace? Unbelievable."

"Look at her, dressed like she's scraping by. Probably desperate for cash."

It was the dead of winter, and the sea wind sliced through the air like blades. There I stood in a thin strapless gown, the chill cutting across my bare skin and leaving me shivering uncontrollably.

In stark contrast, Sophia Reed huddled in a custom cashmere wrap, nestled securely in Frederick's warm embrace.

Without even glancing my way, Frederick barked, "Search her!"

At his command, two bodyguards rushed forward. My stomach suddenly twisted with that familiar, gnawing pain. The lingering side effects from Samuel York's experimental drugs flared up once again.

I clutched my stomach, my face turning pale as I attempted to explain, "Frederick, I didn't..."

But before I could finish my sentence, a polished leather shoe slammed hard into my shin. I heard a faint crack, and agony exploded through my leg like fire. I pitched forward and crashed awkwardly onto the cold deck.

Frederick towered over me with a sneer. "You're the type who would do anything for money. What wouldn't you stoop to?"

As I lay there, sweating profusely from the intense pain, my mind remained surprisingly clear.

The system prompted: "Frederick's affection dropped by 10, heartbreak value up 20%. Suggest activating Victim Mode to accelerate task rewards."

Looking up at him through teary eyes, I reflected on my five years of bending to his every whim, convinced that it would earn me at least a sliver of trust. It turned out I was only fooling myself—or perhaps my acting had been so convincing that I had almost started to believe it, too.

"Search her!" Frederick barked again.

In front of the entire party, the guards ripped off my velvet jacket, and their hands patted me down roughly without any regard for decency. My dignity was torn apart and trampled underfoot.

Naturally, they found nothing. Yet Sophia was relentless.

"Maybe she swallowed it or threw it overboard!" she insisted. "I don't care. She has to apologize to me."

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