I Proposed to Her Best Friend at My Wife’s Funeral

Kristen's funeral wasn't even over yet. The scent of white roses and burning wax still hung heavy in the chapel.

But I simply reached out, took her best friend Sarah's hand, and walked right to the front of the grieving crowd.

I am going to marry Sarah, I announced.

I pulled out the diamond ring I had originally bought for Kristen years ago and slid it onto Sarah's finger.

Kristen's older brother, Carter, charged at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Doug Blake! Are you even human?!"

My bodyguards immediately intercepted him, pinning him back.

He thrashed against them, his voice tearing through the chapel.

"My sister is lying right there in that casket!"

"You are proposing to this slut right in front of her?!"

"Have you two been sleeping together this whole time?!"

I calmly shifted my gaze to Kristen's black-and-white portrait resting on the altar.

"This was Kristen's dying wish."

"She wanted the two people she loved most to support each other and walk the rest of this life together."

The crowd erupted. The entire chapel was filled with gasps, curses, and people calling me a twisted liar.

But nobody understood what I really meant.

"Doug, you have lost your damn mind!"

Kristen's mother clutched her chest, gasping for air before collapsing straight toward the floor.

Relatives rushed to catch her, chaotic shouts echoing as they fanned her and rubbed her back.

Her cloudy, tear-filled eyes locked onto me with pure venom.

"My daughter just passed away! Her body isn't even cold yet!"

"And you couldn't wait to parade this woman in front of everyone? You want to give everything my daughter owned to this homewrecker?!"

"How can you face Kristen in the afterlife?!"

Sarah's hand was trembling violently inside my grip.

I just squeezed it tighter, raising my eyes to scan the room full of furious faces.

"Like I said, the wedding will be scheduled soon."

"Everything under Kristen's name, the mansion in the East End, her company shares, and all the cash in her personal accounts, will go entirely to Sarah."

"You animal! You are a literal animal!"

Carter broke free from the bodyguards for a split second, the veins bulging on his forehead. His eyes were so red they looked ready to bleed.

"Do you remember how my sister treated you?!"

"When your first startup failed, she pawned her wedding jewelry to help you pay off your debts."

"When you were hospitalized, she sat by your bed for three days and three nights without closing her eyes!"

"Now that she is gone, this is how you repay her?!"

"Stealing her inheritance, marrying her best friend... do you even have a heart?!"

He lunged forward again, but the guards quickly wrapped their arms around his waist, dragging him back.

Carter thrashed wildly.

His roars were so loud they made the white floral arrangements shudder.

"Sarah! You filthy bitch!"

"My sister treated you like her own flesh and blood! She shared everything with you, and this is how you pay her back?!"

"Stealing her man and swallowing her fortune the second she is gone? Aren't you afraid of going to hell?!"

Sarah's face drained of all color. Her lips parted as she tried to say something, but her voice was instantly drowned out by the tidal wave of insults.

"You ungrateful piece of trash!"

An elderly uncle, shaking with rage, pointed his cane right at my nose.

"If Kristen is watching from heaven, she will crawl back down just to rip the faces off you two!"

"They definitely hooked up ages ago!"

Someone whispered the accusation loudly. It wasn't a scream, but it acted like gasoline on an open fire.

"Exactly! They probably killed Kristen so they could be together!"

"Otherwise, why would they be so brazen about it?!"

Someone accidentally knocked over the memorial candle stand.

Hot wax and ashes spilled across the floor, mixing with scattered funeral programs, making the scene look incredibly pathetic.

A relative grabbed a handful of white carnations from the altar and hurled them violently at us.

The petals shattered, landing in Sarah's hair and on the shoulders of my tailored black suit, like a silent, mocking judgment.

And in that moment, the absolute chaos of the chapel was already being recorded.

Several people had their phones up, lenses zoomed in perfectly.

They captured Carter's roars, the elders' curses, and the cold silence of Sarah and me.

Within minutes, those clips were edited, slapped with the title "Trashing the Dead: Husband Marries Mistress at Wife's Funeral," and uploaded across every major social media platform.

It took less than half an hour.

#FuneralProposal

#DougBlakeGivesMillionsToMistress

#JusticeForKristen

The three hashtags skyrocketed like rockets, dominating the top trending spots on Twitter and TikTok, glowing with that blinding red "Viral" tag.

The comment sections were a total warzone. The sheer volume of rage practically melted the servers.

[What kind of absolute garbage human being is Doug Blake?]

[His wife is literally lying in a casket in the same room, and he couldn't wait to marry her bestie and split her money? He is a psychopath!]

[Sarah is disgusting. Stealing your best friend's man and her money? This had to be premeditated.]

[My heart breaks for Kristen. She loved the wrong man and trusted the wrong friend.]

[Hold on... is it possible Kristen didn't die of natural causes?]

[They are way too eager. It's almost like they couldn't wait for her to die!]

[The police need to investigate! Scum like this deserves to be ruined and locked up forever!]

My phone buzzed relentlessly against my chest.

Texts, calls, and emails flooded in, packed with curses and interrogations.

Random unknown numbers started ringing, and the second I answered, people would just scream death threats into my ear.

My company's PR department was having a collective meltdown. They sent me dozens of urgent messages begging for a crisis management strategy.

Our stock price had already started to plummet off a cliff.

But I ignored all of it. I casually turned off my phone and slipped it back into my suit's breast pocket.

I looked down and gently brushed a crushed white petal out of Sarah's hair. My fingertips brushed against her ice-cold skin.

She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with panic and dread.

"Doug, maybe we should just leave?"

I shook my head and reached out to smooth her wrinkled collar.

"Don't be afraid."

Then I turned back to face the crowd, meeting their furious, murderous glares.

My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the deafening noise.

"I have said what I needed to say."

"The wedding will be held when the time is right."

"I have already decided where the inheritance goes."

"My lawyers will expedite the legal paperwork."

"Whether you believe me, or how much you want to curse me, that is entirely up to you."

My eyes drifted to Kristen's black-and-white portrait. She was smiling so gently in that picture.

"When the time comes, I will give everyone, including Kristen, a complete explanation."

"An explanation?! What kind of sick explanation could you possibly give?!"

Carter was trembling with rage, still pinned down by the security team.

"You murdered her! I am calling the cops! I am going to make you and this bitch pay!"

I let out a relaxed, easy smile. "Call the cops?"

"Go ahead. I am more than happy to cooperate."

The second the circus at the funeral ended, I booked the earliest flight out. I took Sarah straight to a luxury tropical island.

Sunshine, white sandy beaches, crystal clear water.

I held Sarah's hand, posing for a picture under a palm tree.

She was wearing a flowing white sundress, smiling softly, with Kristen's diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

The caption read: "To the rest of our lives. Please take care of me."

I posted it directly to my personal accounts. No privacy settings, entirely public.

The internet exploded all over again.

The backlash was ten times more violent than the day of the funeral.

[Doug Blake, are you even a human being?!]

[Going on a honeymoon right after your wife's funeral? And you have the nerve to post pictures showing off?!]

[Looking at Sarah's face makes me sick. Wearing a dead woman's ring.]

[Living in a dead woman's house and she can still smile like that?]

[Do these two even have a conscience?!]

[The grass hasn't even grown over Kristen's grave yet!]

[Cancel his company! Society needs to permanently blacklist this piece of trash!]

My direct messages were flooded with the most vile threats imaginable.

People photoshopped my face onto crime scene photos. Internet sleuths tracked down our resort location, threatening to fly out and "teach us a lesson."

But I didn't care. In fact, I kept posting daily updates.

A photo of Sarah's silhouette by the ocean. A close-up of us sharing an expensive gelato. Our hands intertwined under a golden sunset.

Every single post was like pouring aviation fuel straight onto the internet's raging fire.

Ten days later, the honeymoon was over. I brought Sarah back to the corporate headquarters.

When I pushed open the double doors to my executive office suite, it looked like a disaster zone.

More than half the cubicles were completely empty. Files were scattered across the floor. Several department heads were actively leading their teams in packing up their desks.

"Mr. Blake, we are resigning."

The Marketing Director spoke first, his tone dripping with absolute disgust. "We fundamentally disagree with the kind of person you are, and we refuse to work for you a second longer."

"Exactly, we are walking out too!"

"Protecting a mistress and stealing your dead wife's money? We don't serve bosses like that!"

"Either you step down, or we walk. We choose the latter!"

The employees chimed in one after another, their eyes filled with a mix of contempt and bitter disappointment.

The massive office was practically hollowed out. Only a few veteran employees stood awkwardly in the corners, hesitating.

I leaned casually against my mahogany desk, drumming my fingers lightly against the surface. I kept my voice perfectly level.

"That is perfectly fine. Anyone who wants to leave is free to go."

I turned to my secretary and told her to bring out the severance packages I had drafted beforehand.

"For those who have been here for over three years, you will receive an extra three months of severance pay. For those over five years, six months."

"All unused PTO and sick days will be cashed out fully and added to your final check."

The second those words left my mouth, the entire floor went dead silent.

Even the people who were carrying their cardboard boxes toward the elevators froze in their tracks.

The news of my massive payout leaked to the internet almost instantly.

The netizens lost their minds even more.

[Is Doug Blake actually insane?]

[He betrays his wife, gives her parents a heart attack, but acts like a saint to his employees?!]

[This is wild. Doing the most villainous things in his personal life, but throwing around cash to buy loyalty at work? Terrifying!]

[Is he trying to use money to shut everyone up?]

[Too bad we aren't buying it!]

[Treating his staff so well but being so ruthless to his dead wife. What is this guy's brain made of?]

[Hypocrite!]

[Fake saint!]

[He is a psychopath!]

Negative labels washed over me like a tsunami.

I scrolled through the brutal comments on my phone, then looked up at the employees slowly filtering out of the office with their generous checks.

A faint, subtle smile curled the corner of my mouth.

Sarah stood next to me, her face deathly pale.

"Doug, if this keeps up, the entire company is going to collapse..."

I reached out and patted her shoulder, my voice smooth and unbothered.

"If it collapses, I will just build another one."

They didn't understand.

I never cared about saving this company, nor did I care about public approval.

What I wanted was to make the rats hiding in the dark panic.

And this entire circus? It was only just the beginning.

The heavy glass doors to my office were suddenly shoved open.

I was in the middle of signing the very last severance agreement.

A squad of federal financial investigators walked in wearing dark suits, their expressions stone-cold.

"Doug Blake, we received a highly detailed anonymous tip. Your company is suspected of massive financial fraud and severe tax evasion. We are here to conduct an official investigation."

Stacks of ledgers and banking documents were slapped onto my desk.

Every single highlighted number was shocking.

When they presented the final calculation, even I was genuinely taken aback for a second.

"The back taxes and federal penalties owed total exactly fifteen million dollars."

The news grew wings and flew across the internet in seconds.

#DougBlakeCompanyRaided #FifteenMillionDollarFine

The hashtags hit number one instantly.

The internet threw a massive party. The comment sections were filled with people cheering and popping digital champagne.

[Karma never misses! The trash finally got what he deserved!]

[This is what you get for betraying your wife! The money is gone, the company is dead. Serves him right!]

[Just throw him in a federal prison already. Let him rot in a cell for the rest of his life!]

Hearing the blood in the water, Kristen's family rushed over.

Carter showed up at the corporate lobby leading a pack of angry relatives.

He wore a twisted smile of pure vindication, his voice echoing off the marble walls. "Doug Blake, this is exactly what you deserve!"

"But before the government seizes your assets, you are going to spit out my sister's inheritance! And you are going to pay the Collins family extra for emotional damages!"

"Otherwise, Kristen will never rest in peace down there!"

The netizens watching the live streams enthusiastically backed him up.

[He is absolutely right! The family should squeeze every penny out of him. Don't let this scumbag off easy!]

[The money was Kristen's to begin with. He needs to use it to pay for his sins!]

[Support the Collins family! Drain Doug Blake until he has absolutely nothing left!]

Right at that moment, the wail of police sirens approached the building.

Two uniformed detectives walked straight into my office and flashed their badges.

"Mr. Blake, the sheer amount of money involved in your company's fraud elevates this to a major criminal offense. Please come with us to the precinct."

Carter and his relatives immediately started cheering. The live chat on the streams scrolled so fast it was just a blur of text.

But I calmly raised my hand, stopping the detectives in their tracks. My face didn't show a hint of panic. "Hold on."

"This fraud is not my responsibility."

Carter let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Not your responsibility? What, did a ghost do it?!"

"Doug, have some damn shame! You are backed into a corner and you are still trying to pass the buck?!"

I ignored his taunts. My gaze swept slowly across the room, making eye contact with everyone present. "It is my wife, Kristen's responsibility."

"She knows the details of this fraud much better than I do."

The whispers in the room and the raging comments online erupted simultaneously.

"He is insane! He has officially lost his mind!"

"Blaming a dead woman?! This man truly has no bottom line!"

"Throwing dirty water on Kristen when she is already in the ground... Doug Blake is going to burn in hell!"

The lead detective frowned deeply. "Mr. Blake, please cooperate with the investigation. Do not spout nonsense."

I didn't argue. I pulled out my phone and dialed a heavily encrypted international number.

I tapped the call button and put the phone on speaker, resting it on my mahogany desk.

Carter's voice was dripping with pure disdain.

The millions of people watching the live streams were practically eating popcorn, waiting for my final, pathetic joke to play out.

"Is he actually dialing a number? Who is he calling? A ghost?!"

"What a clown! Let's see how he tries to spin this lie!"

The ringing tone echoed through the speaker. One ring. Two rings. Three rings...

Just when everyone was convinced it would go to voicemail.

A clear, female voice suddenly came through the speaker.

It even carried a hint of lazy, husky arrogance.

"Hello? Who is this?"