The Ruthless Lender’s Fake Heiress

Serafina Moncrieff POVThe crystal chandeliers inside the Grand St. Regis Ballroom blazed like frozen stars, reflecting off the diamond-encrusted collars of Manhattan’s ultra-wealthy. Diamonds, champagne, silk—it was a gilded illusion, and I was its reigning queen.Or at least, that was the lie everyone bought.I stood near the edge of the mezzanine, swirling a flute of Dom Pérignon I couldn't actually care less about. My hand trembled slightly, but I adjusted my grip, plastering on the practiced, icy smile of Serafina Moncrieff. Heir to the Moncrieff shipping fortune. A woman who supposedly bought vintage Birkins on a whim and donated six-figure sums to charity galas like it was spare change.Just five more minutes, I told myself, feeling my pulse hammer against my ribs beneath my emerald satin gown. Just keep the mask on for five more minutes until the wire transfer clears.Nobody in this room knew the truth. They didn't know that the Moncrieff fortune had disintegrated three years

Serafina Moncrieff POVThe morning air was razor-cold as I stepped out of the private boutique hotel Lucian had stashed me in overnight. My skin felt raw, my eyes heavy from hours of crying in silence for my mother. I was still wearing a borrowed silk blouse and dark trousers—clothes arranged by Lucian’s team to replace my ruined gala gown.I hadn't slept a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could hear was Doctor Vance’s cold voice telling me my mother was gone, followed by the terrifying sight of Lucian Kensington stripping away every last bit of my life.A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb the second I reached the pavement. The rear door glided open, and there he sat—Lucian Kensington, looking impeccably cruel in a custom navy suit, scrolling through his phone like he hadn't completely shattered my existence twelve hours ago."Get in," he said without even looking up.I hesitated for a beat before sliding into the leather interior. The scent of dark amber and expensive

Serafina Moncrieff POVThe heavy wrought-iron gates of the Kensington Estate glided open silently, swallowing the black town car into a world of secluded opulence. Towering oak trees lined the winding driveway, leading up to a massive Gothic-style stone mansion that looked less like a home and more like a fortress meant to keep the world out.The driver opened my door, offering a polite bow. "Welcome to Kensington Manor, Miss Moncrieff. Mr. Kensington requested that you settle into the east wing before dinner."I stepped out onto the cobblestone path, clutching my single leather overnight bag—the sum total of everything I owned now. From an Upper East Side penthouse to a golden cage in Greenwich.An older woman in a crisp uniform greeted me at the mahogany doors. "Good evening, Miss Moncrieff. I am Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper. Please, follow me."We moved through grand hallways paved with white marble and lined with priceless Renaissance art. Everything about this house screamed