Novel & Cerita Fake Façade

Vanessa snapped, her eyes dropping to Bella’s phone, which was still playing the video from minutes ago. She lifted her heel, then bent down and picked up the phone. Her jaw tightened as she stared at the screen. “So now you know who I am,” she said. “A fake. An impostor. And trust me, there’s nothing you can do about it.” She deleted the video, made sure it was gone, then tossed the phone back onto the ground. “It’s fitting that you fell flat on your face,” Vanessa continued. “It suits you. And there will be many more falls waiting for you in life.”

CLICK. A new picture. A blurry far-away picture of her leaving the tall, super-fancy apartment building at dawn. She was dressed in the same clothing of the previous day, her hair perfectly messy. The meaning was clear and plain. It was a total fake; she'd never visited his penthouse but somehow, it seemed real. The picture had been once again fabricated, another perfect fake. The series continued, a nonstop, planned attack on what people thought of her.

"We feed them something else." "Feed them what?" "A false positive," I say. "We give them a stream of data that shows a decline. A degradation. A terminal failure." Liam looks up, his eyes widening. "You want to fake a miscarriage?" "I want them to think the asset is dead," I say. "If the product is 'lost,' they’ll stop the program. They’ll pull the resources. And then, we vanish." "Aiden, you can't fake that. They have doctors. They have labs."

"You're lying to us. A newspaper report doesn't prove anything—" I threw a paternity test at them and said, "He already bribed all the doctors when he showed up and claimed to be Ethan. The test that he gave you was fake. This is the real one. "Also, he's been using the house rules that you set up to force me to give him money this entire time, forbidding me from telling you what was going on. The money in my bank account didn't just disappear into thin air. I gave every single cent that I owned to him!"

“Says the woman faking an illness to steal a man. I’d say that’s a much worse offense.” Her mouth fell open in feigned shock. She pressed a hand to her chest. “How dare you accuse me of such a despicable thing?” I walked past her to the sink, pulling out my compact mirror and powder. My reflection didn’t lie—messy hair, lips still flushed. I dabbed at my lipstick, my voice cold. “I know you, Victoria. And I know your games.” Her face hardened, the sweet façade slipping for just a second. She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. “You have no idea who I really am… or what I’m capable of.”

“What do you mean? It’s the real deal!” Attempting to salvage her façade, the woman insists that the bag is a genuine Versace 211, emphasizing its exorbitant price of eight figures. But my smile widens, a glimmer of certainty shining in my eyes. I refuse to believe her tale, suspecting that it’s nothing more than a skillfully crafted counterfeit designed to deceive unsuspecting buyers. Shaking my head gently, I dismiss her claims. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it’s a genuine Versace bag,” I assert calmly, my voice carrying an air of certainty. “It appears to be a convincing counterfeit, aimed at deceiving people like yourself.”

“Oh?” “I know,” she continued, “that the life you present to the world is a fabrication. You’re not who you claim to be. You’re not the owner of the Big Bella fashion brand you never were. You bought a temporary name-and-image license from a failing businesswoman. You paid her off while she was desperate, then paraded yourself as a mogul for the cameras and to make my son fall for you, thinking you're an ambitious woman, not knowing you're just a gold digger, and you’ve been riding that illusion for years, pretending it was your empire.” The words landed heavier than I expected, FVCK!!! Diane has gotten on my nerves now.

And if he could find those… He might be able to build a fake leak. A decoy. Drop it before the real one. Rewrite the narrative. Rewrite the clock. Rewrite the game.

“How would his working with either of those men be any less of a façade than what you do? Kidnapping innocent women from gyms isn’t exactly an endearing job.” “The difference, my sweet Magda, is I don’t lie and pretend to be anything I am not. I do not fake my way through life acting as a martyr when there is blood on my hands. I own who I am and I embrace it. Winter hides behind shell corporations, fake names and most importantly, behind his fake-ass persona. He’s a snake oil salesman, Magda. You will see.” “You hate him.” “Very much so.” “Is this why you agreed to take me from him?”

I couldn't help but wonder if our friendship had been nothing more than a facade, a charade orchestrated for her own gain. As Raquel feigned interest in my baby, a subtle change in her countenance caught my eye. A flicker of resentment, quickly masked, flashed across her features. It was a fleeting moment, easily missed by others, but it confirmed my suspicions. Raquel's happiness for my newfound motherhood was a facade, a mask she wore to maintain appearances.