Fake Heiress Real Obsession Novels & Stories

Even so, I knew very well that the scheming Tanya would not give up that easily. Sure enough, when I returned home after school and saw a black Maybach parked outside the gate, a sense of unease settled in my chest. Just like in those online fiction stories, the fake heiress always came with a fiance candidate. I was no exception. The Gilmore family was one of the most influential upper-class families in the capital, representing a level of wealth and status the Lockman family would never normally be able to reach. However, my sister just so happened to be the Gilmore heir's first love.

Yvette jumped up from the bed, shocked and confused. I locked eyes with her, and my tone was serious. “Answer me. Can you do it?” When she reluctantly nodded, I finally let out a sigh of relief. Yvette still looked bewildered. “Queenie, what are you planning?” I recalled the layout of the study and the strange things in the cabinet in my mind. Piece by piece, the final clue to this bizarre adoption puzzle clicked into place. “I know which one of us is the real Grant heiress…”

I nodded through gritted teeth as cold sweat dripped down my forehead. His fingers pressed slowly along my wound, and I could feel a warm energy seeping into my skin, like flames burning away the dark energy that had invaded my body. "Who exactly are you?" I asked breathlessly "Silas Evernight," he said without looking up. "76th successor of the Obsidian Order." He continued calmly, "It seems the possessed corpse you encountered is quite powerful. She wouldn't have been able to injure you so badly that the undead poison entered your system, otherwise."

I'm Brixton's most notorious spoiled heiress. All because I refuse to back down in a feud with my nemesis, I keep raising my bids at the auction, making sure no one can outbid me. Dad is so furious that he cuts off my cards and throws me into the family business to experience real life. On my first day at work, the department happens to be doing a thorough cleanup. I stare at the spin mop, genuinely baffled. "How do you wring this thing out?" Sandy Melville, another intern who started at the same time as me, gives me a condescending look. "Seriously? In this day and age, there are still people who don't even know how to use a mop? If you're going to put on airs, at least have some

I was a stickler for rules. When I was in elementary school, we were supposed to vote for class president, but the teacher simply appointed the principal's daughter instead. Hence, I followed the school rule that whoever received the most votes would win and brought all 42 students to the principal's office to hold a proper vote. After I started working, my boss handed me a 1,500-dollar invoice and told me to claim 15,000 dollars in expenses. I told him that wasn't allowed under company policy, but he said that, in this company, the boss' word was the only rule that mattered. "You need to learn to be flexible," he claimed. "Otherwise, the company may as well replace you with someone more obe

I stared at it for three seconds. "Take it all down," I said to my assistant. Everything. In 20 minutes, the office was bare. White walls. The desk, chairs everything was taken out. I wanted to change it into something that was more fitting for a battlefield. Because the line was just drawn and many people were waiting to see what this real heiress that just bought over her father's company was capable of. I called Sophia. "Mom, send me the Paris office designer. Now." By 1 PM, the office was black and white. Glass desk. No family photos. Just one map Weston Enterprises branches, all the ones I now owned. And a whiteboard with one line:

Seriously, she was crowned Miss Ohio her sophomore year. She looks past him and sees me. With a frown, she checks me out, from the top of my ponytail to my red shoes. I know what she sees—a blob in a sweatshirt with no makeup—and obviously, I’m not her competition, but I guarantee she knows I slept with him. She knew at Cadillac’s. Not much gets past those pesky, pretty Thetas. His back is ramrod straight, his fists balled up at his sides as he walks past her.

"And you really look like someone who likes dark lyrics.” I gave an innocent smile, hiding in the background any characteristic of that little monster that lurking underneath.” "What's so dark about a woman who says she's crazy about someone?” "Nothing that is good comes from someone who is obsessed with someone else," he scored wisely. "You're right," I replied, arching an eyebrow. "Obsession always ends in a tragic way.

"Yeah, I want to be that hammer in her hand. Miss, hammer me!" "She's so beautiful. Could all of this be just a publicity stunt?" "What nonsense! Who would risk their life for publicity?" "Do you even know who she is? That's the heiress of Four Seasons Incorporated, a company worth billions. She doesn't need publicity!" "But isn't the heiress of Four Seasons Incorporated named Kimberly? I've seen Kimberly. She's nowhere near as gorgeous as this woman." Someone then provided a detailed explanation in the comments about what had happened five years ago. This led to a flurry of differing opinions.

Isaac would never forgive me and the gala night and all the upset was bad enough. God, sometimes it’s so frustrating being a rich billionaire heiress, you have to watch everything you do and say. Paps are everywhere and people who know who I am can’t wait to take a snide picture of me and post it all over social media. Thankfully, here in the VIP, private club nobody cares because everybody is somebody. I can see the famous model, Helenka Islovokich with her rockstar boyfriend, Jenson Hamilton at the bar, he has her arms around her waist, and is whispering into her ear. She has her body leaning into him and I wish it was me. Not me with Jenson but just with some guy that cared enough about m