I Faked My Death—Now I Have to Tame the Crazy Men I Left Behind-Chapter 79 - 77: Dredging Up a Female Corpse

Dying for the one you love... Mia Grant had only ever seen that kind of sappy drama in novels.

Oh, right. The god-awful, messed-up world she was in *was* a novel.

Mia couldn’t help but press a hand to her forehead.

’Right. Some things are better left in fiction.’

When it actually happened to her, she was just left speechless.

When reading novels, she would have been moved to tears by a male lead who wouldn’t hesitate to follow the heroine into death.

But now, as she stared at the shocking scars crisscrossing the young man’s wrist, a pang of helplessness mingled with the sharp pain in her chest.

Someone dying for her...

And the male lead, no less. Dying for a worthless cannon-fodder character like her... it sounded like some kind of absurd comedy.

No wonder the system had to offer a huge reward to force her back.

Mia didn’t dare to imagine... if Felix Sinclair had actually succeeded in taking his own life, how would she have felt upon returning to that news?

She felt a little grateful toward Felix Sinclair. During that time, he had been a very dedicated tutor to her.

He might have been rigid and sullen, but he wasn’t a bad person.

She didn’t... hate him.

Seeing someone like that die for her, and in such a painful way... Mia didn’t think she could ever accept it.

She had always thought she had no morals, that no one could hold her emotionally hostage.

But in this absurd novel world, her values were slowly being reshaped.

And now, Felix Sinclair’s actions were yet another wake-up call.

Mia was filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

Felix Sinclair may have been sullen, but he wasn’t slow. He could clearly sense the shift in Mia’s mood.

He silently turned his wrist over and tightened his grip on her hand.

"It’s not."

He said in a hoarse voice, "It wasn’t for you."

"It wasn’t."

He repeated the word, trying to reassure her while also brainwashing himself.

"It has nothing to do with you."

"It was my own issue."

Mia wasn’t an idiot. How could she believe such a flimsy excuse?

In fact, not long ago, Ian Sinclair had complained to her about it.

Ian had said that it was Hayes Hughes’s decision to scatter her ashes at sea, but Felix Sinclair was his accomplice.

Eager for credit, Ian had told her he’d swapped out the box—her "ashes" were actually fake milk powder—so Hayes Hughes and Felix Sinclair never realized the ashes were fake.

’Thinking about it now, what must Felix have been feeling when he scattered my "ashes" into the sea?’

At the time, she’d assumed he had no feelings for her. Otherwise, how could he have been so resolute about leaving her in that ocean?

But now...

"Why did you help Hayes Hughes scatter my ashes at sea?"

She no longer insisted on asking about his self-harm, taking a more roundabout approach this time.

"Why..." Felix Sinclair opened his eyes. They were unfocused, completely hollow.

The events of that day seemed to be seared into his mind.

In an instant, he was reliving it all.

Some fishermen abroad claimed to have pulled a female body from the high seas, her flesh mangled and devoured by fish.

Because the body had nothing on it to prove her identity, they couldn’t determine her face or nationality. So, following local custom and to avoid trouble, they cremated her right there on the shore.

They had unceremoniously buried the ashes in a grove of trees near a garbage dump by the sea.

Later, they saw the police reward, remembered the body they had recovered, and dug up the ashes to trade them for money.

They confirmed it might be Mia Grant after contacting the police, who located the fishermen.

The scene that day had been utter chaos.

In the police station lobby, Ian Sinclair had rushed forward, grabbed the fisherman by the collar, and thrown a punch.

"What right did you have to cremate her?!"

There was no way to get a DNA sample from ashes.

They couldn’t accept this news.

The police pulled them apart. The fisherman looked aggrieved. "What did we do wrong? We’re the ones who had to deal with the bad luck."

"Besides, if we hadn’t given her a burial, the fish would have picked her clean! You wouldn’t even have ashes to see!"

"..."

Yes, what a cruel truth.

Felix Sinclair forced himself to control his expression and emotions, stepping forward to pull Ian back. "Calm down. He’s not wrong. We were the ones who were wrong."

Ian instantly deflated. He shook off Felix’s hand and stubbornly turned his head away, not wanting him to see his reddened eyes.

After the apology, the fisherman finally began to talk about what happened:

"When we pulled her up, we couldn’t see her face at all. Her clothes were in tatters. I just remember it was a... pink? Or maybe a red dress. Oh, we have a photo of a scrap."

That day on the boat, Mia Grant had worn a pink dress with white lace trim, studded with several pearls of varying sizes arranged in a staggered pattern.

She had looked like a little princess.

Felix Sinclair hated his photographic memory, because now, every one of those details was visible on that palm-sized scrap of fabric.

"The body looked pretty young. Height... probably under one-point-seven meters? A little over one-point-six," the fisherman said, gesturing roughly with his hands.

He then heard Hayes Hughes ask, "The... did she... did she have anything else on her?"

’It’s not enough. This isn’t enough. A dress and a height, how can that confirm it’s her?’

The fisherman’s eyes darted away as he shook his head and said there was nothing else.

Felix noticed something was off. He stepped forward and pressed him, but the fisherman just stammered that he couldn’t remember clearly.

Finally, a taciturn man who had been silent in the corner stood up.

Felix remembered it was Mia Grant’s older brother. He said, "Anything on her body. If you can remember it, it’s ten million per detail. No upper limit."

The fisherman’s eyes lit up. "I... I think I remember now. She had a necklace."

"Where is it?"

The fisherman had sold it, but he’d taken a picture beforehand when he tried to get it appraised online.

Nearly all of Mia Grant’s jewelry had been gifts from Silas Grant.

He had always seemed to dote on his little sister. Every time he returned from Portia to the capital, he would bring her the latest piece of jewelry, sometimes with her name engraved on the inside...

He remembered Mia showing it to him once, saying it was a one-of-a-kind custom piece from her big brother.

There was no way a counterfeit could exist.

So, only Silas Grant saw the photo.

Felix didn’t know what Silas saw. He only knew that in that instant, a crack appeared in the impeccable, dignified mask the man had worn from start to finish.

After a long silence, Silas Grant’s chest heaved once, and he handed the phone back to the fisherman.

The fisherman asked nervously, "Does that count? Do I get the money?"

No one could definitively say if the body was truly Mia Grant’s.

Not until Silas Grant adjusted his glasses and said to the fisherman with a smile, "Thank you for laying her to rest. I will give you an additional reward."

With that, Silas Grant left without a backward glance.

Felix watched him go. Silas’s back had always seemed like an unshakeable mountain, but in that moment, it looked as if it was on the verge of collapse.

As if it could crumble at any second.

Everyone present knew there was no need to ask any more questions.

Silas Grant’s meaning was clear. The body really was... Mia Grant.