99 Pranks One Fake Death Novel by WriterLola _ Novel




99 Pranks One Fake Death Chapter 01

Separated by only a wall.
Stacy’s voice rose cheerfully. “Alex, prank number 96 is a success!”
Alexander’s voice held an unfamiliar sneer. “Did you find it amusing, Stacy?”
“Just helping you vent,Stacy. After all, Caroline stole both your scholarship and the game design competition championship from you.”
His friends laughed, “Stacy, once Alex hits 100 pranks, he can finally announce you as his girlfriend!”
I froze instantly.
“I have to say, Alex really knows how to play. Coming up with the idea to fake amnesia to mess with Caroline.
“That first time, he made her search for the bracelet in the rain. I still remember her face when Alex gave it to Stacy…”
My nails dug into my palms.
That was the gold bracelet my mother gave me before she passed. Alexander said he lost it when we moved.
That day, I searched for seven hours in a downpour and spiked a fever of 40℃.
“The best was on her thesis defense day! Alex tricked her into thinking he got drunk and beaten up at a bar.”
A guy laughed, “Caroline rushed to the bar only to find no fight at all, and begged her advisor while crying. I filmed it secretly.”
I bit my lower lip.
That time, after six months of thesis preparation, I went to find Alexander, which ultimately delayed my graduation.
Stacy chuckled, “And that other time, using the game design drafts she worked on for three straight nights to make paper airplanes. She picked them up all night with red eyes. What a loser.”
Alexander chimed in with a fitting laugh, “So, how should we prank her this time?”
“Tell her Alex is at the hospital and that she needs to come quickly. We’ll go to a party and let her wait. How about that?”
My phone vibrated instantly. A message from Alexander said, “Emergency room, MedStar Washington Hospital Center. Come now.”
Afraid of being discovered, I hurried away.
But two minutes later, he recalled the message, as if regretting the trick.
I pretended I had never received it and didn’t reply.
Truth be told, I wasn’t surprised about all those things.
While Alexander was showering, I accidentally found an encrypted folder on his phone titled “Game Progress.”
It contained 96 videos.
Exactly matching the number of pranks I had endured.
The password was Stacy’s birthday, 1224.
He had lied to me, saying it was the day we first met.
Last year on that day, I waited for him in the snow for three hours on Christmas Eve.
But he was at the Ford’s villa, placing a birthday crown on Stacy’s head, not coming to me until late at night.
He carefully wrapped a scarf around my neck, as if treasuring me immensely.
A dull ache spread in my chest. I opened his WhatsApp.
I found that in his pinned conversation with Stacy, he reported the prank progress to her daily. There was so much information. “Today, I told her I was working late at the company, but actually took you to Disneyland. She waited until 3 AM.”
“I intentionally told her the wrong competition time, two hours later. She ran in her pajamas. It was hilarious.”
The last entry was from the day of the class reunion.
When Stacy accidentally knocked over scalding coffee, Alexander instinctively shielded me.
But the chat record read, “Touching her made me feel sick. I used disinfectant spray three times.”
I called my dad and said I wanted to move to Paris with him.
Five years ago, after Mom passed, Dad had settled in the city where they fell in love.
I had stayed in the country for Alexander, turning down study abroad opportunities, barely seeing Dad all year.
I thought once Alexander fell in love with me, I’d live a happy life. But I didn’t know it would hurt so much.
I thought it was true love, but it turned out to be just a prank game. He used me to pursue his unforgettable love.
Hearing my words, Dad was overjoyed. “Caroline, you’ve finally come to your senses!”
Fighting back tears, I let out a soft “yeah.”
“Dad, when I leave, please arrange a plane crash accident for me.”
He didn’t understand, but he agreed anyway.
The plane crash was my final gift to Alexander.
I wanted him to remember my name and feel guilty for a lifetime.
I deleted all our photos from my phone. While I was packing at home, a leather-bound journal slipped out from Alexander’s safe.
The dark green cover was embossed with the pattern of the game “Ember of the Ancients,” the original logo I designed after 36 nights.
Alexander had it printed on the cover. Inside were all my design sketches from over the years, meticulously collected by him. He wished for my dreams to come true.
Turning to page seven, I suddenly froze. Next to a photo of me typing code, wearing glasses, was a sticky note: “Today, she yelled at the planner like a grumpy cat. The revised proposal is ten times better. She is an adorable genius.”
Every time I stayed up all night working on designs, Alexander was with me, giving me massages and making me food.
Because I mentioned wanting a cake, he ran out to buy me one in the early hours of the morning. During my period, he prepared painkillers.
He called it a prank game, but he was clearly deeply immersed in it.
Tucked on the last page was a flight ticket stub from last year’s Valentine’s Day. His handwriting was powerful. “If I could choose again, I would still pretend to lose the tickets and trick her into staying at the airport with me all night to revise the proposal. Because this was the 72nd prank. I promised Stacy.”
Raindrops pitter-pattered against the bay window.
All his affection was built on self-deception. He might love me, but he loved Stacy more. He just vented his frustrations on me.
Trembling, I took out my phone and scheduled a surgery appointment.

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