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I Died Three Times. The Third Time, I Sat Up
Novelix
Completed
"I died three times. The first time, their betrayal killed me. While I lay in a coma, my fiancé and my best friend drained my bank accounts and transferred my properties to themselves. The second time, I died before I could get my revenge. The third time, I lay inside a casket and listened to him cry over an empty box that was supposed to hold my last belongings. He thought I was dead. He thought he'd gotten away with everything. I opened my eyes. Climbed out. And pressed a button. Gold streamers rained down on his tears. ""Keep your life,"" I said. ""Just give me back my money."" This time, I'm the one writing the ending."
Chapters (3)
第1章
I died three times.
The first time, their betrayal killed me.
The second time, I died before I could get my revenge.
The third time, I lay inside a casket and listened to my fiancé clutch the box holding what he thought were my last belongings.
"Natalie, please come back. I miss you. Please. I'd trade my life for yours."
I opened my eyes, climbed out of the casket, and pressed a button.
Confetti cannons exploded. Gold streamers rained all over him.
"Keep your life," I said, sitting up with a smile. "Just give me back my money."
It was barely raining the day of my accident, but the roads were slick.
A delivery truck blew through a red light and slammed into my car, throwing it nearly thirty feet. I broke three ribs, suffered a brain bleed, and went straight into the ICU.
I remembered nothing from the first month of the coma.
After that, awareness came back a little at a time. I could not open my eyes. Tubes ran in and out of my body, and I could not move so much as a fingertip.
My hearing worked just fine.
I could hear everything people said beside my bed.
One of the nurses murmured while changing my IV, "Your boyfriend comes every day. You're a lucky woman."
For one foolish second, warmth spread through my chest. Ethan Shaw had never been good with words, but six years together had to mean something.
Then I heard what I was never supposed to hear.
One afternoon, Ethan sat beside my bed and made a call on speaker. Sophie Cole's voice came through the phone.
"How much longer until she dies?"
"The doctor said the pressure from the brain bleed went untreated too long," Ethan replied quietly. "Even if she survives, she might never wake up. At that point, what's the difference?"
"What about the properties?"
"Once the doctors certify that she's incapacitated, her durable power of attorney kicks in. Don't panic, Sophie. She named me years ago, and I've already leaned on the hospital administrator. They'll give me the letters I need."
I lay there with tubes threaded through my body, unable to move one finger.
I remember thinking that if ghosts existed, this must be what it felt like to be one. My soul was trapped inside a useless shell while my fiancé calculated how long it would take me to stop breathing.
第2章
When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a white ceiling.
An oxygen tube sat beneath my nose. My throat felt as though someone had scraped it raw with sandpaper.
I turned my head and saw wilted lilies on the nightstand. The card had my name on it, with Ethan's signature underneath.
I stared at that card for a long time. Then I slowly pulled out the oxygen tube.
"Ms. Bennett, you're awake!" A nurse rushed through the door and nearly dropped her tray. "Wait here. I'll get the doctor."
"Don't." I caught her wrist. My voice was barely more than air. "Don't tell my fiancé. What time does he usually come?"
"Around three or four. He comes at the same time every day and stays for over an hour."
I checked the clock. It was nine in the morning.
"Help me transfer to another hospital. Keep it confidential. If anyone asks, tell them my condition got worse and I had to be moved."
She looked young, fresh out of nursing school. Something in my expression must have frightened her, because after ten seconds of hesitation, she nodded.
By noon, I was in a private hospital that my childhood friend, Jake Morgan, had arranged. Jake was an attorney, which was about to come in very handy.
I removed the SIM card from my phone and threw it away. Jake was the only person who got my new number. At that point, he was the only person I trusted.
I sent Ethan one final message from my old phone.
[I've been transferred. Don't look for me.]
Then I powered it off and locked it in the nightstand.
Jake came to see me the next day carrying a thick stack of documents. He sat beside my bed and spread them out in a neat row.
"During the month you were unconscious, Ethan used your power of attorney to transfer two of your three rental houses into Sophie's name. The third deed is still being processed." He tapped the copies of the county filings. "Just over a million dollars in savings, drained in dozens of smaller transfers. And your retail property? That's the best part. Sophie formed a shell LLC, deeded the building to it, and named herself managing member. On paper, you have nothing to do with the place anymore. So, Ms. Bennett, how are you feeling about your devoted fiancé and your best friend?"
"What about my parents' house?"
"Untouched. It's too far outside the city to fetch the kind of price they wanted. Apparently, even thieves have standards."
I turned the pages one by one. The first transfer had been made ten days after my accident. I had still been in a deep coma then, my heartbeat maintained by machines, and Ethan had already begun stripping my life for parts.
"He thought I would never wake up," I said.
"He treated you like you were already dead." Jake gathered the documents into a stack. "What are you going to do? Sue him?"
"Not yet." I slid the papers under my pillow. "I need you to let a rumor slip that my condition deteriorated and I didn't make it. Keep it subtle. Let it pass through three or four people so it feels real."
Jake stared at me. "You want him to think you're dead?"
"He already does. Before, I was almost dead. Now he can believe I actually am." I leaned back against my pillows and smiled. "Then find me an event planner who takes unusual jobs."
"An event planner?"
"For a funeral. Mine."
Jake was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled his chair closer.
"Natalie, are you planning to jump out of a casket and scare him?"
"Something like that."
"You think it'll make you feel better?"
"First I make myself feel better." I pulled the blanket higher. "Then I sue."
Jake stood in the hospital corridor for five full minutes before he finally left.
第3章
The rumor spread faster than I expected.
On the third day, Jake casually mentioned to a friend that I apparently had not survived. That friend immediately posted a picture of me with the caption, [Rest easy, Natalie.]
Ethan left five comments in a row demanding answers. The friend replied, [I don't know the details. Ask someone close to her.]
Then everything exploded.
For the next two days, I stayed in bed while Jake sent me live updates on Ethan's panic.
He called every mutual friend we had. One told him my condition had suddenly worsened after the transfer. Another told him to stop asking questions and take time to grieve. No one could give him a straight answer.
On the fourth day, Sophie posted a nine-photo collage of the two of us.
[Nat, you will always be my best friend.]
Dozens of comments followed. [I'm so sorry, Sophie.] [Stay strong.] [You two were more like sisters.]
I took a screenshot and saved it in my evidence folder.
In one photo, Sophie leaned against my shoulder, smiling sweetly and flashing a peace sign. Even the jacket she wore belonged to me.
You were not always like this, Sophie. How did you change so fast?
I left the hospital on the tenth day.
My ribs still ached, but I could walk normally and think clearly. I moved into the old house my parents had left me. It sat well outside downtown, but it was clean and quiet.
The event planner Jake found came to discuss the details. His name was Greg Lewis. He had a military-short haircut and carried an enormous travel mug under one arm.
"What kind of atmosphere are you looking for, Ms. Bennett?" Greg asked, opening a notebook.
"Funeral. Rent a small memorial hall. I want a casket, wreaths, candles, a guest book, and a huge portrait. The full package."
He paused. "Whose funeral is this?"
"Mine." I set a glass of water in front of him. "I'm not dead. I just want my fiancé to experience mourning me."
His hand jerked. A few drops spilled onto his pants.
"Immersive theater," he said, dabbing at the stain with a napkin. "Got it. What exactly do you need?"
"Rig confetti cannons inside the lid. I want gold glitter, streamers, everything you have. Put a red button inside the casket. Halfway through the funeral music, switch to the happiest song you can license." I leaned forward and traced out the timing with my hands. "Most important, Ethan must believe this is a real memorial. He cannot suspect anything when he walks in. I need him to honestly believe I'm dead."
Greg filled two pages of his notebook.
"Understood. Total commitment to the mood, then a hard reveal." He closed the notebook. "I once staged a fake wedding for a woman whose boyfriend had been cheating. When he lifted the bride's veil, his ex was standing at the altar. He dropped to his knees and cried. People talked about it for months."
"That's exactly the energy I want."
Once the plan was set, Jake began sending invitations.
The event was billed as [A Celebration of Life for Natalie Bennett]. The invitation explained that while settling my affairs, my friends had found personal items they wanted loved ones to claim before the rest were donated.
It looked painfully official, printed on heavy charcoal cardstock with a subtle black border.
Both Ethan and Sophie received one.
The day Ethan opened his, Jake texted me.
[He read it and sat in his office without moving for over an hour.]
I did not reply.
That evening, I sat in my parents' old living room with two candles burning beside their photograph. I told them I was about to do something big and asked them to enjoy the show from wherever they were.
