Fatal Test: Dying For His Love

From the back cover

Three days before our wedding, the police notified me that my wealthy fiancé had drowned. His family blamed everything on me - slaps, curses, forcing me to kneel in the memorial hall for three days and three nights. In utter despair, I swallowed a lethal dose of antifreeze, climbed onto the bridge, and prepared to jump into the river to join him in death.

Just as my body leaned forward and I was about to throw myself off, laughter and whistles suddenly erupted from behind the SUVs. My "drowned" fiancé walked out completely unharmed, talking and laughing with his childhood best friend. Lightly, casually, he announced that this was nothing but a "loyalty test" for me, and right there he put the wedding ring that was supposed to be mine onto his childhood best friend's hand as a reward.

Looking at that ring, I suddenly understood that these seven years probably did not even count as a bet in his eyes.

The deadly poison tore through my internal organs, and I violently coughed up large mouthfuls of black blood. But he only rolled his eyes in disgust and left me on the side of the road:

"Stop pretending to be sick. Don't be late for the rehearsal dinner tonight."

The hospital called the emergency line again and again. He rejected every call and warned the doctors not to play along with my jealous games.

That night, I died in the cold resuscitation room.

The next day, when the police delivered my death notification to his grand wedding, he stared at it and completely lost control.