He Chose the Fake Sister, Now He Weeps at My Casket
369 Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
A blizzard night. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and my legs had already lost all feeling.
With purple, cracked fingers, I dialed my fiancé, Silas.
Through the phone came the cozy crackle of a fireplace, and the sweet giggles of the fake heiress, Stella.
"Silas... save me... Route 82..." I gasped, my voice fading.
"Harper, this jealousy game makes me sick," he snapped. "Stella only sat in your passenger seat, and you play disappear? Go freeze to death out there. Don't bother us!"
Beep.
He hung up. Followed by a ruthless block.
He didn't know it wasn't a stunt for attention. It was my last SOS in this world.
When my body was dug out of the snowdrifts, frozen stiff along with the cheap engagement ring he bought on a whim, that arrogant man dropped to his knees on the icy morgue floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
Too bad, I could never see it again.
With purple, cracked fingers, I dialed my fiancé, Silas.
Through the phone came the cozy crackle of a fireplace, and the sweet giggles of the fake heiress, Stella.
"Silas... save me... Route 82..." I gasped, my voice fading.
"Harper, this jealousy game makes me sick," he snapped. "Stella only sat in your passenger seat, and you play disappear? Go freeze to death out there. Don't bother us!"
Beep.
He hung up. Followed by a ruthless block.
He didn't know it wasn't a stunt for attention. It was my last SOS in this world.
When my body was dug out of the snowdrifts, frozen stiff along with the cheap engagement ring he bought on a whim, that arrogant man dropped to his knees on the icy morgue floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
Too bad, I could never see it again.


















































