Trash Ex Faked It, Now I'm Faking It... With His Bro

The year our love burned brightest, Oscar Sterling's sleek black Lamborghini wrapped around an oak tree like tinfoil. News cameras flashed as paramedics pried open the mangled metal, and I stood there, numbly watching, my engagement ring digging into my palm.

Everyone expected me to crumple, to wail and tear at my clothes, but I just stared at the smoking wreckage, a strange calm washing over me.

I'd always known our love was a house of cards; now, it had finally collapsed.

The moment the heavy, ornate door to the private room creaked open, a wave of sickeningly sweet perfume mixed with the cloying scent of expensive cigars hit me., I ran into Oscar Sterling passionately kissing a young girl.

The girl let out a startled yelp as the door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing through the suddenly still room.

Before I could utter a word, Oscar's so - called best friend, leaped forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

He grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight.

he gasped, his breath reeking of alcohol. "You have to believe me! That car accident... it was a disaster. Oscar was left in a vegetative state, hooked up to machines for years. He just woke up a few weeks ago, and his memory... it's completely gone. We didn't tell you because we didn't want to put you through more pain! We thought it would be kinder to let you move on!"

Oscar Sterling pushed the girl aside, approached me, and conveniently frowned, saying:

Oscar Sterling squared his shoulders, the disheveled suit jacket doing little to hide the calculated glint in his eyes. He sauntered forward.

"I hear you're my fiancée?" he drawled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. His gaze raked over me, taking in my composed demeanor, and he let out a derisive scoff. "Though I don't remember," he continued, pacing slowly around me like a predator sizing up its prey, "seeing how you've clearly pined for me all these years..." He paused dramatically, the room so quiet that I could hear the rapid breathing of the stunned onlookers.​

With a flourish, he grabbed my hand, ignoring my attempt to pull away. "I'll honor my promise and marry you,"

Oscar Sterling didn't know that on the day he faked his death, I had received a video.

In the video, Oscar Sterling smiled and said to someone else:

"I can't accept that Lucille will be my only woman after marriage.

I'll fake my death, play around for a few years.

Comfort her, don't let her take things too hard."

He also didn't know that during the Three years he faked death,

I had other men as well.

His friends around froze for a moment, then tried to persuade me one after another:

"Lucille, how can you say you don't know Oscar? It was us hiding it from you; it has nothing to do with Oscar."

"Yes, Lucille, we did it for your own good, afraid you'd keep