Fake Heiress Real Obsession Novels & Stories

“That’s never good.” “Oh, it’s good,” she said, yanking the blanket back. “Scottish Billionaire Heiress Spotted With Infamous MacAllister Twins, that’s the headline. They got photos, babe. Of you. Between them. On the dance floor. Looking like a bloody goddess.” I sat up, rubbing my temples. “Christ.” “Social media’s eating it up. #HeiressInHeat is trending in the UK, #MacLeodMacAllister is all over TikTok…” Cat grinned. “The local gossip pages are foaming at the mouth.”

If anything, the person who’s got something to loose if things go wrong is her, not me. As I walk toward the damn cruiser, the bag with my things in one hand, and her suitcase in the other, following her down the path like some lovesick puppy, I can’t stop thinking about what Maria said. I can’t stop thinking about those words, her suggestions, ever since she said them. I mean, I am not going to whore myself out for money, or for the idea of chasing the legal heiress out of her money, but damn it, it’s tempting. It’s tempting when I look at the way she walks, those long legs in those heels, the way her tanned skins glistens in the morning sunlight. Every step she takes, every move, is filled

“Jesus, Belle. You okay? I saw them outside.” Annabelle’s pulse pounded in her ears. “They knew my name, Sofia. My real name.” Sofia came around the counter fast, grabbing her shoulders. “Hey, breathe. What the hell is going on?” Annabelle reached into her bag and pulled out a folded newspaper someone had shoved into her hands earlier. Her picture was on the front page: THE HIDDEN HEIRESS OF BLACKTHORNE EMPIRE. The subheading read: From Barista to Billion-Dollar Bloodline.

I gripped the edge of the table. The screen cut to a split graphic. Left side: Giselle’s recent headshot, elegant, composed. Right side: a grainy still from security footage—Octavia standing over an open grave, face half-turned toward the camera, and unmistakable. The headline crawler at the bottom scrolled in bold red letters: BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS NEARLY BURIED ALIVE BY STEPSISTER. I grabbed my phone and dialed Giselle’s number, but it went straight to voicemail.

Below it— Her face. Clear. Unmistakable. Not the quiet version of her. Not the hidden one. The real one. And beside it— Another image. Lena. Smiling. Posing. Living a life that was never hers. Aria’s grip tightened slightly on the phone. Scrolling. Fast. Too fast. Each headline worse than the last. “FAKE HEIRESS DECEIVED ELITE CIRCLE” “REAL BILLIONAIRE DAUGHTER HUMILIATED IN HER OWN SCHOOL”

I said as I sat back down and tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. "Forget the investors you already have and start thinking about the one who just landed back in the country, because word is that the Great Thorne Heiress—the real one, the one with the trust fund that hasn't been touched in three years—is looking for a new project to dump her excess capital into," Beatrice said, and I felt a sudden jolt of electricity run through my chest that made me sit up straight.

Money can’t buy class, but it can buy a hell of a show. @KingCasanova: I wish I was the one taking her like that. Such a pretty slut. Who knew the Russo estate was actually a brothel? @SinCityNews: Is this the end of the Russo Dynasty? The heiress is trending for all the wrong reasons. #RussoScandal #FallFromGrace @UndergroundTruth: Look at her face. She’s enjoying it. Guess the "King of the South" can’t even control his own daughter. Pathetic.

“Didn’t you say you forgot those at Santiago’s?” “What is it doing here? I’m sure I left them there. I didn't even remember—” “Is that blood?” Jessica crunches her nose, staring at the shoes with disgust. I turn the heels in my hand and notice they’re not clean. The patent leather is completely splattered with dark, crusted, drying blood. The sharp stilettos are caked in tissue and gore. A gasp tears from my throat as I stumble backward, dropping the heels and the box. It clatters against the floor.

He pulled her behind him and pointed an accusing finger at me. "What's with the sarcastic tone, Millie? If you didn't take Sienna's place and steal her identity, do you really think that you would be standing here in your tailored clothes right now? You stole everything that you have now from Sienna. How shameless do you have to be to keep antagonizing her?" The crowd began discussing among themselves again as they shot looks of disdain and contempt at me. "I really wonder where this fake heiress is getting the confidence to act so arrogantly. If I were in her shoes, I would have made myself scarce ages ago."

“Exactly. The real heiress kept a low profile for years. Of course she wouldn’t come in shouting about who she was. Freya’s act was way too obvious.” Freya and Chuck froze completely. “No. That’s impossible.” Chuck muttered under his breath. “She worked at my company for years. How could she be the group’s heiress?” Then he seemed to remember something and suddenly turned to Freya. “Wait. Didn’t you have the family pendant? The one you showed us before? “Were you lying to me this whole time? Was that pendant fake?” Freya desperately shot him a look, telling him to shut up. But it was too late. The words had already left his mouth.