Fake Façade Novels & Stories

I am not here. It's not me. It's a beauty, no, beauty is not enough to explain how I am looking; exquisite. The elegance and grace, it's not mine. They can see a lavishing wedding of a woman with angelic features with a man as handsome as ancient Greek Gods. The irresistible man of a perfect dominating aura. Fakeness is getting bound eternally with lust as a constant reminder of misery which leads to this day. That's what they call facades. The demeanor used to hide the actual one.

RIVER HALE UNDER INVESTIGATION FOR FRAUD AND EXTORTION. Jace’s voice was low and sharp. “What proof?” Sasha clicked another tab. “It’s fake, of course. They’ve edited bank statements to make it look like you’re paying River through a hidden account. It’s spreading fast.” River’s stomach dropped. “They’re making me look like a con artist.” “That’s the goal,” Sasha said grimly. “Discredit you both before we can counter.” Jace stood suddenly, anger flashing in his eyes. “We end this today.”

"You don’t have to remind me." Silence settled between them again. The breeze ruffled her silk robe. Nirvana pressed her hand against her belly. The bump was becoming more obvious. "They’re going to know it’s all fake," she said. "We forged everything. The certificates, the photos, the story. They’ll see right through it." Zayd took a long sip from his mug before replying, "Then we make them believe it’s real. I’ve played this game longer than you think, Nirvana."

“You fake it.” Ava blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Fake it?” “Fake the pregnancy,” her mother said, her eyes gleaming with cold determination. “It’s simple. You tell Lucas that you’re pregnant. He’ll believe it—why wouldn’t he? You’ve already planted the seed. Once he thinks there’s a child on the way, he’ll stop running to that surrogate. You’ll have him right where you want him. Lucas loves you, you just have to remind him that again and again”

“Sorry. I’ll see you on Monday.” “Wait,” he said, grasping her upper arm and stopping her. “I don’t understand. Why do you have to change?” Helen sighed. She bet he wouldn’t chase after ‘Helen’ like that, but he couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when ‘Vera’ was involved. “Look, Mark. Do you remember our conversation in the elevator? This person you see in front of you isn’t the real me. It isn’t anything like me. It’s a fabrication, a facade—nothing. It’s professional bunkum. Surely, you must understand that. It’s a show. I know you must put on a show when you’re doing your public relations thing, so you should know exactly what I’m talking about.”

and phantom clients expressing gratitude for her professionalism. To complete the illusion, two paid actors were prepped with backstories. One, a fake hedge fund manager based in London, spoke glowingly about Ava’s finesse in closing a Soho penthouse deal. The other, a woman posing as a Nigerian-American tech entrepreneur, posted occasionally on I*******m about building her international property portfolio—with just enough vague references to “Ava” and “her incredible team” to make the story feel organic. Fedora’s alias even had a social media trail. An I*******m account—@AvaDoesRealEstate—was set up with filtered snapshots of high-rise lobbies, skyline views, and champagne glasses at what l

Each encounter left him undone, a man drowning in the very essence he claimed to abhor. Amid these musings, the visage of Kate slithered into my consciousness, her image conjuring a derisive chuckle that rippled through the stillness. "That woman is nothing but fake,” I scoffed, rising from the bed to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows, baring my soul to the ocean's vast judgment. "A façade of silicone smiles and counterfeit charm." I examined my reflection, noting the genuine light in my eyes, and the earnest swell of my lips. In that glass, I saw the truth—a stark contrast to the illusion Kate paraded before the world. Everything about Kate is fake! Fake ass, fake face, fake smile,

"Completely. Look, I'm a victim here too. My wife had a mental breakdown. She started making wild accusations. And my former friend, Sophia Bennett, became obsessed with me. Dangerously obsessed." "But there are photos. Bank records. Evidence of an affair spanning seven years." Mason smiled sadly. "All fake. AI-generated. It's disturbing how easy it is to create false evidence these days. Anyone with a computer can make realistic photos. Fake bank statements. Anything." Grace watched from her hospital bed. Her hands gripping the blanket. Getting tighter with every word Mason said. "He's lying," she said to the TV. "He's LYING." Aiden sat next to her. Also watching. His jaw clenched. "I know.

"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.