I thought I was living my dream when I married Damian, but it turned into a nightmare. Just hours after saying “I do,” Damian collapsed and died. Three days later, I buried my husband—only to come face-to-face with him driving a taxi.

Damian and I met at a café where I worked part-time. He was quiet, handsome, and confident. Despite being from different worlds—me, a girl from a lower-middle-class family, and him, secretly wealthy—we fell in love. Our wedding was supposed to be the start of a beautiful life together.

During the reception, Damian collapsed. The doctors said it was a heart attack. I was devastated, but his family made it worse. They accused me of being a gold digger and blamed me for his death. Their wealth and disdain for me had always been an issue, but I never imagined it would come to this.

Days later, I found Damian alive. He confessed to faking his death to escape his manipulative, criminal family. “I couldn’t let them destroy you,” he explained. He’d staged everything with help from professionals to protect me and his legitimate business.

At first, I couldn’t forgive him. But as I handled the fallout and saw his sacrifices, I realized I still loved him. Now, we’ve left everything behind, living anonymously in a foreign country, finally free and happy together.