Face Fake

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

Three years after my wife's and daughter's deaths, they came back from the dead. Turns out, my wife hadn't died at all. She'd faked it and married the son of the richest man in Notingdun City. Ever since then, she'd stepped into the glamorous life of a wealthy socialite. When I uncovered the truth, the shock hit me like a bolt of lightning. I confronted her face-to-face. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she sneered, "You think a penniless man like you deserves to be my husband? I've remarried and taken on a new identity. Stay out of my life, or don't blame me for what happens next." Her words cut deep. Even our daughter turned her back on me. Crushed, I let go for good. But not long after, she came back regretful and begged me to remember the vows we made on our wedding day: to never leave, never forsake. I looked at her and laughed coldly. "Yes, I did make that promise once. But sadly, my wife died three years ago."

Eight years ago, my cousin Wendy Cooper was involved in a drunk driving hit-and-run. Yet, my parents made sure all the evidence pointed toward me. The victim's family waited outside my school every day with gasoline, threatening to die with me. Because of that, the school took away my guaranteed admission to university. That day, my parents and brother all tried to persuade me. "Wendy's terrified. Just give her your spot to make her feel better." I refused, fought back, and even tried to talk them out of it. But the next day, they handed me over to the police themselves. Lance Stewart, my fiance and a powerful business tycoon, had orchestrated it all. As he was afraid I'd run or cause trouble, he personally pinned several charges on me and sent me to an isolated island prison. He left me with no way out. When my sentence began, he made me a promise. "Esme, just endure it for a few years. I'll get you out once Wendy graduates, and then we'll get married."

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

The day before my wedding, my daughter and I got into a car accident. My daughter died instantly, and I was left with broken legs, condemned to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. When Spencer Ford found out, he rushed us to the hospital, his actions frantic, almost out of control. In the midst of my pain, I overheard a conversation between Spencer and his assistant. "The car's been disposed of. Lorelei will never find out that we tampered with it. But I'm compelled to ask… Rowena was your own daughter. Was it really worth it, losing her for Melanie? "When Rowena was dying, she was calling for you to save her… I could hardly bring myself to do it." Spencer remained silent for a long time, the tension in the air thick. Then he slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Melanie's pregnant. I won't let anyone compete with her child for the inheritance. And all of this is Lorelei's fault. She brought it on herself."

I was born into a regular family in the Moonridge Pack with no status, but through years of training, I fought my way up to become our pack's Gamma. My father was just an Omega and he worked as an ordinary salesman who always claimed he was too busy for family. When he finally took a vacation, I spent $100,000 of my own money to plan a luxury cruise for us all. Then his mistress Sarah and her daughter Emily heard about our trip and suddenly wanted to join. Without even discussing it, my father gave them our luxury suite and relegated Mom and me to the cramped staff quarters below deck. Even my grandmother, a respected elder, supported his decision. My fourteen-year-old brother took their side too, charmed by their fake sweetness. So I changed our plans. I took Mom on a first-class flight to a private island resort instead, where we spent three perfect months. That's when the family started to panic...

The maid's daughter, who grew up in my home, had the nerve to act like an heiress. On her birthday, she invited every kid from school for a full-on rager at my family's villa. When I suggested they take it to a hotel, she lost it. "You don't get to tell me what to do! My friends can party wherever they want!" She added, "The ten-layer cake my parents ordered for me is on the way. Why don't you park yourself by the door and wait for it, huh?" Her crew circled up, laughing and pointing at me. But I'd lived through this before. Nothing about her little act rattled me. I turned to the butler and told him to lock the gate. Then, I went to Rambo's cage. "Hey, buddy," I said, opening it up. "See those trespassers?" I pointed at the crowd. "I'm counting to three. If they're still here, don't let a single one get away."

After another one of Winifred Clayton's dramatic suicide threats, Edgar Snider secretly starts a relationship with her behind my back under one condition—I can never find out about it. He says, "I can be with you, but Wanda is everything to me. Whatever happens between us, she can never know." Winifred pretends to agree. Then, she sends me a video of her and Edgar living together, my son included. "No matter what happens, Edgar will never leave me. So stop deluding yourself—you were never a match for me." What she doesn't know is that I never plan to compete. In just one month, I'll be on a flight to Avernia, gone from Edgar's life for good.

Michaela Ferguson had tears streaming on her face and she had blood in the corner of her lips. She shook her head and replied, “It wasn’t me. When I arrived at Shalom shopping mall, your mistress was already injured.” Her husband, Thorne Ferguson didn’t believe her and said, “Pray that Paula will not die because should she die, I will bury you and your family alive.” Then he pushed her hard, and Michaela staggered and fell to the ground. Michaela was in a sorry state. She cursed the day she first met Thorne Ferguson. She had been nothing but a good wife to him. However, her husband had been cold and cruel towards her. Her heart was overwhelmed with bitterness. Thorne looked at his wife with icy-cold eyes and said sternly, “I will never forgive you for touching the love of my life. Paula is my bottom line. I will make sure that you get a life sentence. Please pray hard for her not to die, because should she die I don’t know what I will do to you and your family.”

"Miss Hudson, we have prepared a corpse identical to you, just as you requested. It will be delivered to your wedding with Mr. Warhol in ten days." Hearing the voice on the other end of the line, Violet Hudson felt a small knot of tension unwind inside her. "Alright. Thank you." "You're welcome. This is our job. Please rest assured—no one will ever suspect a thing." With that guarantee, she exhaled, the weight on her chest easing just a little. After confirming the final details once more, she ended the call and pushed open the door to the private room. The noise inside had been a constant hum, a mix of voices overlapping, but the moment she stepped in, silence fell like a curtain.