Fake Façade Novels & Stories

"You want me to destroy myself. To admit to crimes that will put me in prison for life. Why would I do that?" "Because if you don't," I said while walking over to stand directly in front of him, "I won't just release fake evidence. I'll create so much fake evidence that no one will ever be able to tell what's real and what isn't. I'll make you look guilty of things you didn't even do. I'll fabricate emails showing you planning terrorist attacks. I'll create bank records showing you funding child trafficking rings. By the time I'm done your name will be associated with every horrible thing I can imagine. And you'll be dead so you won't be able to defend yourself."

Yes…a façade is fake , but if used often the person may believe and attract those qualities. My façade is obvious – I am pretending that I have the qualities of a strong women. I pretend that I have confidence flowing from butt – is it harming anyone? No. It gives me hope…when I look at myself in the gym’s mirror , I do not see that little girl who has countless scars – I see a strong warrior who can take on anything in life and keep moving forward. I see someone who is trying so hard to change her life , that she puts on this mask to teach herself to be strong.

Madison, however, mistook my laughter for mockery and glared at me with disdain. I tilted my head and asked in amusement, "Since you say you've worked hard to teach yourself the art of traditional pottery, I'm curious just how hard you've worked." I asked her that because I knew she couldn't possibly have self-taught herself traditional pottery. She was lying just to build a persona and continue using traditional pottery to make money. Just like Tyler, they didn't actually care about preserving the heritage. They were just exploiting it for profit. But to my surprise, Madison pulled out her phone. She pointed to a popular account that documented her journey in learning traditional pottery. T

I questioned her. She looked at me with uncertainty, took a deep breath and answered, "We need you to be a fake bride”. I released my hand from her grip but she continued, "It's less than two weeks away from now, I promise we're going to annul it. The only thing we need is your presence as the bride". I chuckled forcefully, "I have a lot on my plate and I do not have time to on a charade". I tried to open the car door but she held on to me tightly and started pleading. I wasn't ready to be caught in between the rich folks but she kept on emphasizing how I'd fit the role perfectly because I have almost the same body frame as Daisy.

A new comment slid across the screen. [Does your sponsor keep you locked in the villa because he's afraid other men will look at you? Or because he's afraid his girlfriend will find out?] Benjamin saw it. His hand, resting on the table, slowly curled into a fist. Even without showing his face, tension radiated from him. Why had he not let Anya go out? With Olivia, he had to act poor, exhausted, and pitiful. He could not eat this or buy that. To make the performance believable, he even had his assistant collect boxed meals from construction sites so he could bring them home as proof.

The style looked chic and simple: a large ivory pearl floating freely within a diamond-dusted platinum cage. To the unknowing, it was a beautiful, understated accessory. Only a few people knew that the pearl wasn’t real but an iridescent casing around a microchip that broadcast my location via GPS to Deloris. More than that, it recorded my movements, my respiration, and even my heart rate.

I continued, "You two are the masked puppeteers, plotting, deceiving, and trampling genuine emotions underfoot." My voice wasn't loud, but my declarations landed like sledgehammers on Jessica's conscience and those smug faces who had mocked me. "That's nonsense!" Mark shrieked, desperate to deflect the accusation while jabbing an accusatory digit at me. "Your old man's lousy ring. For all we know, it's counterfeit. Explains why Ms. Lane disowned you. You're nothing but a discarded..." A resounding slap cut off his vitriolic tirade.

Like he did not know what to do, nor what to say. ‘Laugh it off.’ Shira suggested. I laughed. A fake, put on laughter, all for the benefit of Zaine. “Too much drink, again, I think.” I rested my head upon his shoulder and he smiled. “Yeah?” His expression was unreadable. “Imagine tolerating you for longer than I needed to.” He quickly added, all but repeating my earlier words, and I smiled, glad that he wasn’t making this awkward. He seemed to have taken the get out I had offered. He did not want to use my offer of a fake relationship to trick his parents so he was not forced into an arranged marriage. I understood that. We were good as friends. I cannot imagine us as anything else, fake or

“Uh, didn't you once tell me that your cousin was like some computer hacking genious or something like that?” “Yeah, he is.” She can hear the question in his voice. He is clearly wondering why the heck she is asking that, but he for some reason is refraining from asking. Well she is going to tell him anyways. “Okay, well, I actually have a kind of weird favor to ask you. And him. Um, could he possibly fake some records for me? I need my name changed on some papers. Today. Is that possible?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

Trisha exclaimed, smiling. "I feel it too." I narrowed my eyes because they were both acting weird and finished putting on my shoes. —Here, put on some makeup—Verónica handed me a bag with her cosmetics. "What did my mother tell you?" I wanted to know, pulling out a mirror and starting to put on a little makeup because I didn't want to look emaciated and less sleepless. I wanted to forget about everything today, to get rid of stress and bad vibes. Whenever I think of bad vibes, the image of Oliver Price comes to my mind. He's the devil himself and I hate him. If I had it in front of me...