Fake Dating

Four years after my death, the true heiress won the Best Actress award, but her sex tape was once again spread like wildfire. My Best Actor boyfriend, Nicholas Jennings, kicked open the rented house where I used to live, hoping to make me clarify once again that it was me in the video, but all he saw was a complete mess. The landlord happened to pass by and, upon his inquiry, scolded him, "You’re talking about Astrid Rhode? She died four years ago! A man saw the sex tape posted online and came here to have some fun with her, but she would rather die than comply. In a fit of rage, he killed her." Nicholas did not believe it at all. He kicked our couple's mugs. "Astrid made you say that, didn't she? She stole Maddie's life just because she looked like her. Did she think that helping Maddie once would atone for her sins? Tell her that none of the children in her orphanage will live if I don't see her clarification video in two days!" He strode away, and I shook my head with a wry smile. The orphanage had long since been reduced to ashes in the fire, and the children had already passed on to their next lives. I had made a deal with Death, wanting to come back and see him one last time. However, now, it seemed that the deal was better left undone.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

On the third anniversary of our engagement, my fiancé—Dominic Corleone, heir to one of the most powerful Mafia dynasties in New York—told me he was not ready to form a new family so that our wedding would have to postpone. I told myself to wait for some time, the bond between the Corleones and the Valentinos—our families’ sacred alliance—would hold us together. But what followed were his endless betrayals and tortures. I walked into a bridal boutique and saw him laughing with Liliane, the childhood friend who always lingered too close. I watched him destroy the wedding gown I had spent months designing—then crush my hand beneath his heel until it bled. And when I thought I had hit rock bottom, he proved I was wrong—by getting behind the wheel and running me down. He thought I’d beg and cling to him, terrified of losing the Corleone name and privilege that came with it. But instead, I made one phone call and insisted firmly on canceling the engagement. However, that call didn’t just end a marriage arrangement. It unearthed a secret that had been buried for over a decade…and turned a marriage born of duty into a story of dark devotion.

My wedding to Don Lorenzo Corsica was always 'almost.' Five years engaged. Thirty-two weddings. Every single one crashed and burned. Then came number thirty-three. Halfway through, the chapel wall caved in. I landed in the ICU. Skull fracture. Major concussion. A dozen critical alerts. Two months stuck between life and death. Then I clawed my way back. On discharge day, I caught him talking to his right-hand guy. "Don, if you're really into that scholarship girl, just dump Ms. Mortoro," the guy said. "Corsicas can kill gossip. No need for staged accidents... She nearly died." Lorenzo went quiet. Then finally, "I owed her parents. They died for me. Marrying her was the only way to repay that. But I love Sofia. She's the one I want." I looked down at my stitched-up body and cried without a sound. So it wasn't fate that wrecked me. It was him. If he couldn't choose, I'd do it for him.

On the day my twin sister, Alexia Cavanaugh, and I turn 22, I collapse and find out that I have late-stage cancer. Ignoring the doctor's advice to be admitted, I walk out of the hospital. All I want is to spend one final birthday with my family without a single worry. But when I arrive at the party, a server stops me at the door and tells me the venue has been reserved exclusively for Alexia. Outsiders aren't allowed in. Through the glass, I watch as my brother holds a cake and my father places a birthday hat on Alexia's head. Even my boyfriend is there, smiling as Alexia makes a wish. I stand there for half an hour, gripping my phone, before my boyfriend finally answers my call. "I was just at the hospital. I—" He cuts me off. "Ophelia, you've always been healthy. It's Lexi's birthday today. We should talk later." Isn't today my birthday too? My mother died giving birth to me. The doctor later explained that I deprived Alexia of nutrients before birth, which left her frail from the start. And just like that, everyone decided I should always step aside for my twin, who was born five minutes before me. I ball up the report with my cancer diagnosis and toss it in the trash. I'm done letting their favoritism hurt me. I've never received their love anyway, so I choose to leave for good.

• My mom died saving me during a kidnapping. At least, that’s what everyone believed. My dad—once the man who spoiled me like his little princess—turned his grief into hatred. He adopted a girl who looked just like Mom and gave her all the love that used to be mine. For five years, I lived in that shadow, broken and unwanted. Until the day I was beaten and left for dead… and my mom came back. Alive. He used to call me his treasure. Now he calls me a curse. But the night my mom returned, everything shattered—his lies, his obsession, and the truth I was never meant to know.

On the day of my wedding, I had just discovered I was pregnant when news of Gavin Holt's death reached me. I wept until my eyes were swollen, yet still clung to his portrait and insisted on completing the ceremony. The very next day, his twin brother Sebastian Holt, came with Charlotte Evans, to break off the marriage on behalf of his brother. "My brother said before he died that Charlotte was his one true love. If she cannot enter the Holt family, he'll never rest in peace!" Taking advantage of the fact I had no family to back me up, Sebastian shamelessly brought Charlotte into my bridal chamber and slept with her. Their moans and gasps filled the room. On the very first day of my marriage, I was humiliated by my own brother-in-law and turned into a laughingstock for the entire city. Then, by chance, I overheard their conversation. "Gavin, you lied to Emily, told her you were dead. What if she finds out?" "She's so foolish. Even now, she mourns my 'death' with blind devotion. Once she gives birth to the child, we'll drive her out of the Holt family." Only then did I learn the truth that the one who had died in that car accident wasn't Gavin at all, but his twin brother! Later, I chose to end the pregnancy and leave. Yet he went mad, begging me to return.

After I am diagnosed with stomach cancer, I ask for some money to buy medicine. I don't want to be in excruciating pain when I die. My three elder brothers rush into the ICU. Andy Lewis—my eldest brother—slaps me hard across my face. He scolds me for ruining his beloved younger sister, Summer Lewis' coming-of-age party. My second brother, Sherman Lewis, calls me a liar. He accuses me of pretending to be sick to swindle money from them. Jimmy Lewis, who is my third brother, calls me useless. He tells me that I deserve to die. My parents, Kenneth Lewis and Autumn Farrow, don't believe that I'm sick. They pin me with looks of contempt and ridicule. "You still haven't stopped that lying habit of yours even though you're all grown up. You even learned how to blackmail us with your death. "If you want to die, do it sooner. It'll spare us from being disgusted when we're forced to look at you day in and day out." I end up dying on the first day of the New Year. Before I breathe my last breath, I send a message to the family group chat. My entire family goes crazy after reading it.

I had always shared a perfect relationship with my mother-in-law, Betsy Dutton. We were the model pair of a wealthy family. She and my father-in-law, Rourke Dutton had been childhood sweethearts, their bond seemingly unbreakable. But one day, she told me something that changed my entire perception of them.  She clutched my hand and tears were streaming down her face. “Naomi,” she sobbed, “your father-in-law… he’s been keeping a mistress. They even have a child together! “For over ten years, I’ve been in the dark, made into a laughingstock!” My throat tightened, and I couldn’t hold back my own confession.  “Mom, actually… Julius is no better. He bought a whole apartment building for his mistress!” We wept in each other’s arms, our heartbreak spilling out in waves.  After what felt like an eternity, she sniffled and straightened herself. “Men are utterly unreliable creatures!” “I’m done with that old man, Naomi!” I gripped her hand tightly. “Mom, wherever you go, I’ll follow. I’m done with Julius, too!”