My Best Friend Faked Her Death and Made Me Raise Her Child

My best friend was diagnosed with cancer, ran away from home, and died by suicide.

She left behind only a suicide note and eight-year-old twins, a boy and a girl.

“You’re the only person in this world I can ask for help. I’m not asking you to adopt them. Just make sure they get a couple of meals a day.”

Unable to bear the thought of leaving them alone, I adopted the siblings.

For the next twenty years, my husband and I worked together to buy them cars and houses.

Then my adopted daughter went straight to the police station and accused my husband of being a depraved scumbag.

My long-dead best friend suddenly appeared, too, and joined in the accusations.

I demanded to know why she was doing this.

My best friend was heartbroken.

“I thought we were the closest of friends. I never imagined you adopted those children so they could serve your husband!”

My husband’s reputation was ruined, and he was sent to prison.

I ran around everywhere, desperate for an explanation, but my adopted son had me forcibly committed to a mental hospital, where I died in despair.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend was diagnosed with cancer.