They Faked Death, I Sold Their Assets

Chapter 1 They Faked Their Deaths

After my husband Marcus Vance and father-in-law Derek Vance staged their deaths and dumped an enormous mountain of debt on us, my mother-in-law, Helen York cried until she was barely conscious while I went straight to have both men officially removed from the records.

"Anna, how could you even think about…" Before Helen could finish, I grabbed her hand firmly.

"Mom, we need to sell the house and the cars right away."

"But even if we sell everything, it still won't be enough to cover what they owe…"

I looked at her sharply. "Who said we're paying any of it back? We take whatever money's left and disappear."

Helen stared at me in shock. Then I showed her the messages I found on Marcus's computer.

The moment she finished reading them, her entire expression changed. Without another word, she stormed into the study and dragged out the antique collection and paintings Derek had hoarded for years.

"These are worth more than the house and cars put together," she said through clenched teeth. "Sell all of it."

Three years later, the father and son who faked their deaths came back to find strangers living in their villa, both of them frozen in stunned disbelief.

*****

It was the third day after Marcus Vance and Derek Vance's supposed fatal car accident. I stood in the memorial hall holding up my nearly collapsed mother-in-law Helen York.

From the moment the news reached us until now, Helen had cried for three straight days without sleeping or eating. By this point, she could barely stand on her own anymore.

The funeral flowers had already begun to wilt, leaving the entire room heavy with a sickly-sweet smell.

Just then, Victor Warren walked in with several men behind him. The balding middle-aged man gave the memorial portrait a brief, perfunctory bow before turning impatiently toward Helen.

"Mrs. Vance, my condolences." There wasn't a trace of sympathy in his voice. "Still, debt is debt. Mr. Vance may be dead, but someone else has to pay what's owed."

Helen visibly trembled, tears streaming down her face all over again.

"Mr. Warren, please… just give us a few more days," she pleaded hoarsely. "Derek and Marcus just passed away. I truly don't know what to do right now…"

I steadied her with both hands, my nails digging hard into my palms.

Victor frowned impatiently. "One week," he said coldly. "That's the longest I can give you. After that, don't blame us for doing things the hard way."

With that, he turned and left with his men.

The memorial hall instantly fell silent again. Only Helen and I remained.

She slumped weakly into a chair, staring blankly at the memorial portrait as if her soul had already left her body.

"Anna…" she murmured numbly. "What are we supposed to do now? They're both gone… how are we supposed to survive?"

My chest felt tight with suffocating pressure, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Mom," I said quietly, "let's organize Dad and Marcus's belongings first."

I helped her into Derek's study. The room felt heavy and oppressive, lined wall to wall with the shelves. In the corner sat the large safe Derek treasured most.

Helen's fingers trembled violently as she entered the password, their wedding anniversary. A sharp click echoed through the room as the safe unlocked.

And both of us froze. It was empty. The gold bars, cash, jewelry, and foreign currency were all gone. Everything valuable enough to carry had disappeared without a trace. Only several property deeds remained inside, stacked there coldly like scraps of paper.

"Where's the money?" Helen cried out in panic. "Where's the emergency cash Derek kept here?"

Her face turned deathly pale as she began frantically searching through the empty safe again and again.

A terrible feeling settled heavily in my chest. "Mom, don't panic yet," I said quickly. "Let me check Marcus's belongs."

Suppressing the growing unease inside me, I hurried into Marcus's study and turned on his computer immediately.

Several passwords failed one after another. But that didn't matter much. As a programmer, bypassing a home computer's security system was hardly difficult for me.

The room fell into dead silence except for the low hum of the computer fan.

Behind me, Helen sat collapsed in the chair, crying soundlessly as she stared blankly at the empty safe.

Finally, I uncovered a hidden encrypted partition. Inside was only a private chat application. The moment I opened it, my blood froze.

Derek: We're out of time. We have to leave now.

Marcus: What about the two of them?

Derek: They'll survive. They won't die from this. After three years, most of the debt should be paid off anyway. Then we can come back.

The timestamp on the final message read 3:10 p.m. three days ago.

Marcus: Boarding now. Mom, Annie… even though you'll never see this, goodbye forever.

But according to the accident report, the crash happened at five that afternoon.

'Goodbye forever.'

Those two words slammed into me like a branding iron. My fingertips turned ice-cold as numbness shot violently up my spine. For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except the roar of blood pounding inside my ears.

"Mom…" Even my own voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar. "They're not dead."

Helen looked up blankly, tears still hanging on her face. "What?"

Without another word, I turned the laptop toward her and shoved the chat history directly in front of her eyes.

She froze completely. Her cloudy eyes moved slowly across the screen, reading every line over and over again. Then her lips began trembling uncontrollably.

"Fake… fake deaths?" Her voice broke sharply, almost shrill with disbelief. "They took the money and ran? And left all the debt for us?"

Before she could finish speaking, her breathing suddenly hitched violently. She clutched her chest with both hands and collapsed straight off the chair onto the floor.

"Derek! Marcus!" Her scream tore through the room like something no human throat should have been able to produce. "You monsters!"

Curled on the ground, she sobbed hysterically, her entire body convulsing with grief, rage, and betrayal.

"Mom!" I rushed forward to help her up, only to collapse to my knees beside her myself.

The cold floor seeped through my clothes. As I looked at the woman crying in complete despair beside me, then at the cruel words still glowing on the computer screen, something inside me finally shattered completely.

Marcus, my husband, had filled our marriage with tender promises and endless plans for the future, making me believe I was deeply loved. Yet in the end, every bit of it had been nothing more than a carefully staged performance designed to abandon us the moment everything fell apart.

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood. The sharp pain forced me to calm down. Then I grabbed Helen's hand, pulled her to her feet, found the household registration booklet, and dragged her straight out the door.

We got into a taxi and headed directly for the police station.

"Mom," I said coldly, "since they want to fake their deaths to escape the debt, then let's make sure they're officially dead everywhere."

Helen gripped my wrist tightly. After a long silence, she finally gritted her teeth. "Sell the house. Sell the cars. Sell all those antiques and paintings too."

Her eyes turned viciously red. "Then we take the money and disappear before they ever come back."