My fairy tale wedding ended in a nightmare when my new husband, Damian, collapsed and was pronounced dead from a heart attack. The grief was all-consuming. Three days after his funeral, as I was fleeing my grief-stricken life in a taxi, I heard a familiar voice tell me to fasten my seatbelt. I looked up into the rearview mirror and met the hazel eyes of my dead husband. My shock was beyond words. He pulled over and confessed an unbelievable story: his wealthy, powerful adoptive parents were involved in illegal business and had threatened to destroy me to control him.
To protect us both, he had faked his own death with the help of a professional, using a drug to simulate a heart attack and bribing officials to stage the entire event, including an empty coffin. He explained that by “dying,” he had ensured his legitimate assets were transferred to me, putting them out of his family’s reach. He was now a fugitive, driving a taxi to stay under the radar before leaving the country forever. My initial reaction was a storm of anger and betrayal. How could he let me believe he was dead? How could he put me through that pain?
After a night of furious confrontation, I needed space. He left the country as planned, and I was left to deal with the legal fallout and his furious family, who tried to contest the will. Months passed. As my anger cooled, I began to see his desperate act as a deeply flawed but selfless attempt to shield us from a dangerous situation. I realized I still loved him. I found his contact information and called him. Now, we are building a new life together in a foreign country, far from the shadows of his past, finally able to live the marriage we were denied on our wedding day.
