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Their Fake Death Was The Start Of My Revenge Novel Cover

Their Fake Death Was The Start Of My Revenge

Perry Lennox has spent five years working as a movie corpse to pay off a massive debt inherited after his parents' death. To secure the final $130,000, he risks his life in a clinical drug trial. But when he returns home, he discovers the bankruptcy and his parents' demise were staged as a punishment for his past spending. As the experimental drugs ravage his body, Perry realizes his family’s deception cost him everything. Now, the mystery of their betrayal sparks a drive for revenge.
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Chapter 4

"Did you have fun? Was lying to me for five years just some kind of sick amusement for you?" I shouted, my voice thick with despair.

I ripped off my cap and mask, lunging forward to grab her sleeve. "What did I do that was so extravagant? Why did you have to torture me like this?"

Panic flickered in Priscilla's eyes. She glanced around at the staring patrons, then gripped my arm, her expression stiff and awkward.

"People are watching," she whispered. "Let's take this outside."

"You're the one with something to hide!"

My eyes burned as I wrenched my hand from her grip and screamed at the top of my lungs. "You, Mom, and Dad—you all conspired to lie to me! You lied about us being bankrupt, lied about the debt, lied about those 'haunted-house sleep tests' you were supposedly doing!"

I choked on a sob. "But what's the actual truth? They're traveling the world, and you're going home to a warm bed every night. I was the only one truly suffering this whole damn time!"

I broke down completely, tears finally spilling over. "Priscilla, just tell me why. Please. Why does spending a grand on a phone matter so much when our family is worth billions?"

Priscilla's face darkened. "No wonder you asked me that earlier today. You overheard my call with Mom and Dad."

As she spoke, she reached for my wrist again. This time, she gripped me with bruising force, trying to drag me out of the restaurant.

Suddenly, a waiter hurried over and caught my other arm. "Sir, you haven't paid yet! The total is 5,000 dollars!"

Priscilla froze, her brow furrowing into a deep scowl. "How could you order such an expensive meal? Have you learned nothing about how hard it is to earn a living?"

Every diner in the room had their eyes pinned on me. Priscilla intentionally let the silence hang, letting the judgment of the crowd sink in. Only after my face had paled with embarrassment did she finally pull out her card and pay.

Once we were outside, Matthew piped up from behind us, stoking the fire. "Perry, your parents and sister only did this for your own good. It was to teach you a lesson. Don't be so ungrateful!"

"Stay the hell out of this!" I shouted. Blinded by searing, white-hot rage, I wrenched my arm free from Priscilla and slammed my fist into Matthew's face.

He let out a sharp cry, clutching his cheek.

The next instant, Priscilla's hand whipped across my face.

"Perry, enough!" she snapped. "Do you think we would have resorted to this if you weren't so vain and superficial?"

She loomed over me, her voice turning cold. "You think these five years have been hard on you? Do you have any idea what we've had to go through? And now you have the nerve to throw a punch at Matthew? Clearly, you haven't learned your lesson yet!"

I froze. Listening to her detached voice, I felt the last spark of life inside me finally flicker out.

After a long silence, I looked up at her, a mocking, hollow smile tugging at my lips. "So this isn't enough for you? Would it be enough if I just paid you all back with my life? Would that finally be enough?"

"Even now, you're just talking out of spite!"

Annoyance flashed through Priscilla's eyes. She signaled her driver and shoved me into the back seat.

I let out a hollow laugh. "Are we going home now? Which home, exactly?"

She didn't even spare me a glance. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called our parents.

"You can come back now. Yeah, Perry found out. No, I didn't tell him! He overheard it himself."

A loud thud echoed as Priscilla hurled her phone onto the floorboard in frustration. When she turned to me, her eyes were filled with nothing but raw irritation.

"You actually have the nerve to cry? I've had to suffer right alongside you for five years, and I'm the one getting blamed for it in the end."

She snapped, "What exactly are you crying about? Stop acting like you're some kind of victim!"

I couldn't find the words. I just sat there and let her berate me the whole way until we pulled up to our old estate.

I hadn't set foot in this house for five years. As she shoved me through the doors, all I felt was a sense of crushing unfamiliarity.

The excruciating, twisting pain in my stomach surged again. Unable to hold it back, I doubled over and coughed up a mouthful of black blood.

As I frantically tried to wipe it away, Priscilla caught sight of it. She just let out a cold snort.

"Nice touch with the props. You really think that's going to make me feel guilty? Save the performance for Mom and Dad. Those cheap tricks don't work on me."

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