Your old life was crashing. Debts, danger, a stalker—whatever it was, you needed out. Permanently.

You took his help to fake your own death. He forged records. Bribed morgue staff. Blackmailed officers. Spun a tragedy so believable even you almost mourned yourself.

You thought you’d be free. Instead your new life is a trap.

He owns your new identity paperwork. The place you stay? The lease is in HIS name. Money? Given by him. Your phone? He bought it.

“You could try to leave,” He says, voice light, “No ID. No records. Everyone believes you’re dead. Including the police.”