He faked his own death to escape me. Years later, I found him alive, married, and with kids. What I did next will shock you! #HusbandFakedDeath #BigamyScandal #UltimateRevenge

My husband was supposedly turned to ashes in a fire the night before our wedding.

I read his final letter, written in blood, and dutifully cared for his parents for thirty years.

But when I went to cancel his official documents, the clerk informed me he had long since remarried and had a child.

I refused to believe it and went to find him myself.

He claimed I was mentally ill and had me committed, where I suffered greatly.

I turned the tables and called the police.

“Officer, someone here has committed bigamy!”

0 “Ma’am, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Grant isn’t dead. In fact, he has a son,” the clerk said.

I stood there in shock. George Grant had supposedly been reduced to ashes in a fire twenty years ago.

He left a final letter written in blood, and in my dreams he told me I must take care of his parents.

I shouldered that burden, caring for them for thirty years.

Now they’re telling me George Grant isn’t dead?

What have these past thirty years been for?

Fighting back tears, I secretly took some photos of George’s current address.

I returned home in a daze and called Mr. and Mrs. Grant.

In the background noise, I could faintly hear children playing.

“Mom, Dad, George is still alive, isn’t he? I heard his voice.”

Mrs. Grant smacked her forehead and protested loudly. “How could that be? I think you’re just exhausted lately. Get some rest. It’s perfect timing since we’re traveling, so you can relax too.”

With that, she hurriedly hung up.

I laughed bitterly and collapsed on the floor, completely drained.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard George’s voice. At first I thought I was hallucinating, that my mind was playing tricks on me.

So I didn’t think much of it.

But now all the clues were telling me one thing:

George Grant wasn’t dead.

Looking around at everything I’d worked for to build this home, I broke down sobbing.

George and I had fallen in love at first sight. He pursued me passionately.

But misfortune always finds those who suffer most.

The night before our wedding, while he was cleaning our new home, a faulty appliance caught fire, leading to his untimely death.

My eyes were nearly blinded from crying. In the end, I had no choice but to accept this reality.

Everyone told me to move on, to find a new husband.

Even Mr. and Mrs. Grant said I should remarry and find happiness.

But looking at that blood-written letter, I gritted my teeth and treated his parents as my own.

For thirty years, I never wavered.

My blood pressure spiked as I trembled all over.

Didn’t George love me most? If he was alive, why didn’t he come find me?

Was there some unspeakable reason?

I grabbed my ID and rushed to the neighboring city.

I had to find him and get answers.

In a lavish mansion, George was living happily with his wife and son.

Even Mr. and Mrs. Grant were there.

Their happiness stung my eyes.

Looking down at my worn-out shoes from the market stall, the wrinkles and scars on my face showed how much I’d sacrificed for this family.

I pushed open the door and stared straight at George, calling out to him.

“George, you’re alive. Why didn’t you come find me…”

Everyone in the mansion panicked.

Mrs. Grant quickly came over and slapped me. “What nonsense are you spouting! This is George’s twin brother, Gary. You’ve got the wrong person!”

Mrs. Grant had always been kind, but this was the first time she’d ever struck me.

“We were planning to tell you after some time, but George’s death was too big a shock for you… We kept it from you for your own good…”

I forced a bitter smile. Even if George had been reduced to ashes, I would recognize him.

How dare they claim this was his twin brother?

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