I Learned That My Wife Is Rich After Faking Death

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter.

I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife.

The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years.

“The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?”

Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.”

John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too?

“Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.”

After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.”

I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash.

There was no need for them to test me anymore.

I no longer needed to pretend.

I had just stepped out of the company when the administrator called.

“Sam, what are you doing?

“The numbers these past few days are terrible, and the viewers keep asking what happened to you. You must come back and start streaming again!”

I felt the numbness spreading through my right leg, and I said calmly, “Mr. Green, I want to resign.”

Mr. Green froze.

I could picture his stunned expression.

For the sake of money, I had been the most hardworking employee in the entire company.

I streamed for more than twelve hours a day. I played a corpse on camera, and while I was streaming, I could not move at all.

I ate and slept in that cramped streaming room for three years without change.

However, though I still greatly needed money, I was claiming that I wanted to resign.

“You said what? Resign?” His voice shot up.

“Sam, your daughter’s medical fees need to be paid, no?”

I did not want to argue with him, so I ended the call.

My daughter’s medical condition… Yes, I had pushed myself for three whole years so that I could treat her.

Yet, all of it felt like a joke.

I leaned against the wall, and my legs felt weak from the numbness.

I called Stacy. I wanted to tell her that I had resigned and that I no longer wanted to live like the walking dead.

I wanted to ask her if she could come and take me home.

Instead, the mechanical voice answered from the phone, “The number you have dialed is busy…”

I called her again and again, and every attempt ended with a busy tone.

After more than a dozen attempts, she had not answered once.

I let out a bitter laugh and put my phone away. It was pointless to