Fake Heires Novels & Stories

She stumbled up from the sofa, grabbed his arm with both hands, and shook her head frantically. “Damian, listen to me. I did this for you. I did this for the pack.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. Every head turned toward me. “For him?” I said. “You mean you found another man’s child and tried to pass it off as the Vale heir?” Selene flinched as if I had struck her. The elders did not. Their anger came all at once. “Do you understand what fraud against the bloodline means?” Cedric Vale thundered.

But it was from my father’s company—the quality was excellent. I let out a quiet sigh and tried to explain one last time. “First, the watch is mine. “Second, you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The real heiress is probably still out there somewhere, waiting for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a frail girl in a server’s uniform standing in the corner of the banquet hall, watching in fear. Her features bore a strong resemblance to the matriarch of the Lawson family, Jasmine Ross, at least seventy or eighty percent.

He lunged at me like a lunatic, screaming hysterically, "Nonsense! Say that again! I'll tear your mouth apart!" He made a fuss, completely losing his composure. Several wealthy heirs and heiresses in the auction hall were also social media users. They watched with amusement as they snapped photos of Jack's face. Some even livestreamed as they whispered amongst themselves, "Gosh, is that Jack Hughes, the influencer with over a million followers? How embarrassing!" "Fake heir confirmed!" Jack's carefully crafted ‘rich heir’ persona was instantly ruined. The auction continued until a shout of, "$80 million!" drew everyone's attention.

"Visa Infinite. Mastercard Black. American Express Centurion. None are fake." "Why would they be fake? I'm an exemplary citizen. I pay my taxes. Well, Christopher's accountants pay them." "You are an incubus who assumed the identity of a human heir," he stared at me. "Most supernatural beings use fake identities. Fake documents. Fake cards." "I'm not most." I smiled, a thin smile. "I'm a Rockefeller. Everything is real. Including the golden retriever that hates me." "You have a golden retriever?" asked Reyes, momentarily distracted.

he pointed, "— I went to choose it with her. It just ended up on your hand." My tears hit the floor. Mom rushed the steps and grabbed Vivien's wrist. Her voice shook. "Have you lost your mind? She's your sister." Vivien pulled her hand away and let out a short, cold laugh. "Sister? She took my life from me for twenty-six years, Mom. I'm just taking it back." "Don't forget — she was the baby the hospital handed to the wrong family. She's the impostor." Vivien's words dug in, clean as a blade.

Isolde's expression became hard to read, as though she were listening to a melodramatic plot unfold. "The classic real-and-fake heiress?" She pointed at herself. "You're saying I'm suddenly not my mother's biological daughter?" Was this a joke? If anyone else had said it, she would have dismissed it outright. But given Viper's confession, what reason did he have to fabricate such a story? "If what you're saying is true, does that mean I can inherit the Valeciels?" A glint of excitement rose in her eyes. "Endless wealth? God-tier medical skills?" A windfall out of nowhere? It was something worth celebrating.

“Rachel, that friend of yours…” My foster father appeared at my side at some point and let out a heavy sigh. He still thought I was the same gullible rich girl and hesitated out of fear of hurting my fragile heart. Dad told me everything he had learned. Vicky’s father had relied on our friendship for years to boss people around in the company. He had already caused tremendous resentment among the staff. That year, when my foster father secretly reviewed the company accounts, he discovered that the man was highly suspected of embezzling company funds.

I had a strange habit: everything I responded to somehow ended up going nowhere. When I was eight, my adoptive father stole an electric scooter and told me to keep watch. I patted my chest and promised, "Don't worry. I'll tell you if anyone comes!" Then I turned around, crouched by the side of the road, and watched ants carry food. Twenty minutes later, both he and the stolen scooter were being loaded into a police car. Later, I got kidnapped. The kidnapper told me to sit still and keep quiet. I nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, sir!" Then I stuck my head out the car window and waved at the pedestrians. "Hi, everyone! This stranger says I have to be quiet!" Three blocks later, more tha

The Sullivans, one of Delston's richest families, are coming to the orphanage to find their long-lost daughter. Before they arrive, my childhood friend, Alex Jenkins, hands me a gold pendant. "Mr. Anderson said you were wearing this when you were first brought here. He told me to return it to you." Comments suddenly begin appearing one after another in front of me. "Wait, Alex gave Olivia's pendant to Rhea? Is he seriously trying to pass Rhea off as the Sullivan daughter?" "Of course he is. Olivia's pregnant. What rich family wants its long-lost daughter showing up pregnant and unmarried?" "They'll let Rhea take her place until Olivia has the baby. Then Olivia can come back, expose her,

The day I came home as my parents' long-lost daughter, a pain-link system connected us. Whenever I got hurt, my parents and two older brothers would suffer the same injuries and feel the same pain, no matter how far apart we were. At first, I thought I'd imagined it. Then, while looking through an old photo album, I cut my right index finger on a page. Before Mom could press a tissue to it, her own fingertip began to bleed. Dad and my second brother Leo Hartley stared down at identical cuts on their hands. Even my oldest brother, Ethan Hartley, called before he got home to ask why his finger had suddenly started bleeding. The next afternoon, I arrived early for the welcome-home party my pare