Where Can I Read 'Three Days After I Die' Online?

I died the day my husband forced the doctors to take our baby from my womb. I thought I’d never love again after losing my ex-boyfriend to a heart attack. But fate gave me a second chance. I married the man I adored, a billionaire named Maxwell. Just when I was about to share the joyful news of my pregnancy, I caught him getting cozy with my best friend, Morgana. Worse, he believed her lies: I was a drug addict. The truth? I was battling a severe mental illness triggered by my ex’s death. I needed medication to cope, but Maxwell never cared to understand. He refused to believe a word I said. They locked me away in a private rehab clinic. But that place wasn’t for healing, it was a trap. Morgana used it to cut me off from Maxwell and torment me without consequence. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse… Maxwell signed off on a surgery to take my baby. I lay on that cold operating table, tears streaming down my face, and died in the fire that followed—broken, betrayed, and alone. But I never expected to wake up again. This time, I have a new life. A new family. And even one of my children survived. Maxwell, Morgana—this time, I’m coming back. And you’re both going to pay.

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

The first experiment in the world of retrieving memories after death succeeds, and my memories are going to be broadcast live all over the Internet. My dad has just learned about my death, but he only says in a disgusted tone, "Who would want to see the memories of someone who is selfish, mean, and has nothing commendable at all about them? Today is the wedding day of Zoe and Cameron. Pause the live broadcast and stop being so sickening!" Zoe is my stepsister, and Cameron is supposed to be my fiance. After that, my father finds out the truth from the live broadcast of my memories. He begs for my forgiveness tearfully but… I'm already dead.

After my younger brother died, my parents and grandfather all killed themselves. Each of them died in a different way, but they shared one thing in common: Before their deaths, every one of them had read my brother's suicide note. And in that note, there was only a single sentence. Reporters fought for a chance to interview me. The police interrogated me overnight. Countless people wanted to know what that sentence said. But I never told anyone. Until the tenth anniversary of my brother's death, when I saw a figure standing in front of his grave. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Because I knew my turn had finally come.

Mia D’Lorne thought heartbreak would kill her but getting hit by a car did the job faster. One second she’s running from the sound of her boyfriend and sister fornicating, the next she’s standing in front of an abandoned bus station in what looks like purgatory. The bus that picks her up looks like a prop in a horror movie and she’s introduced to the world of the Soul Recycle Program. To exist, she has to compete in a twisted afterlife show where the dead fight their way through nightmare worlds for the amusement of unknown and unseen spectators. The rules are simple. Survive or disappear for good. Mia is joined by two strangers who are just as broken as she is. Axel Rivers, who has been dead for almost a century, and Bree DeBois, a control freak paramedic with more guilt than she can carry. Together they try to survive the challenges of the game. As the trio do their best to keep from being erased, they begin to realize the Game is more personal than they imagined.