Fake Heiress, Real Trouble Novels & Stories

"Call the cops? Go ahead." I pulled out my phone and handed it to him. "You have me arrested, and the whole city instantly finds out Cassandra ditched her marriage and hired a body double." "The great heir to the Sinclair Group, played for a fool by a knockoff this whole time." "I've even got the headline ready: 'SHOCKER: Billionaire Heir Falls Victim to Body-Double Honey Trap. Is This the Twisting of Human Nature, or the Collapse of All Morality?!'" Julian took a deep breath, the vein on his forehead twitching.

“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.

Even if they had never seen me, they had heard of the famous York Group. Everyone's expressions twisted the moment the words left Molly's lips. All of them wore matching expressions of bewilderment. "M-Ms. York?" I scoffed as I swept my gaze over the few people who had been eagerly egging Brandon and Sienna on earlier. Just then, the real, fake heiress, Millie Jensen, finally spoke up. "I'm Millie Jensen. Mom and I were busy handling some business at the company earlier. I never would have guessed that the two of you would get yourselves into so much trouble."

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.

How blind had I been in my previous life to fall for such a coward? "Tristan," I said, crouching down to his eye level. "Do you remember what you did to me in the previous life?" He froze. "W-What do you mean previous life?" "You held my head in a toilet and drowned me over and over," I said softly, watching his face drain of color. "You said someone as vile as me should have died long ago." Tristan's pupils contracted sharply. "N-No, that's impossible... It must have been a dream..."

“After something like this, your foster parents will definitely think you embarrassed them, and they’ll throw you out. “I’ll marry Peter, and everything will be just like in the dream.” After saying that, she suddenly messed up her hair, let water drip down her body, reddened her eyes, and rushed out. I sensed danger and hurried after her. The moment I stepped out, four or five reporters blocked the door with cameras and recorders. Flash after flash lit up both of us. So she had already set a trap, and she had been waiting for me to fall for it. Vicky turned back with a triumphant smirk, then instantly switched into a dramatic victim.

But the burn didn’t ease the knot in his chest. The news flashed on TV. “In breaking news, the missing Hartman heiress has been found alive after twenty-three years…” Adrian froze. The screen showed Evelyn stepping from a black car, surrounded by cameras. “She’s the missing Hartman heiress,” he whispered. Charlotte paled. “That’s impossible.” Adrian barely heard her. Every cruel word he’d thrown at Evelyn echoed in his head. He’d called her a gold digger, said she didn’t belong. Now she was the richest woman in New York.

“We’re in our house, in our goddamn living room.” “In your house?” Her voice cracked like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t yours anymore. None of this is. It belongs to her now. To Hailey Vale, the stripper heiress who just hosted a softcore orgy in our ancestral estate and made the cover of three tabloids.” She flung a rolled-up paper across the room. It slid to a stop in front of Marcus. “STRIPPING HEIRESS CLAIMS THE LACHLAN THRONE.

He said that there is more toil. "What do you need from me?" Saint promised weakly. "We want your power! Your position! And your wealth. And Deus wants to know where the hell is the mafia heiress." Mafia Heiress? Savienna is the real mafia heiress. But I am still claiming it as me because that's what they thought too. "Okay, I got what I wanted. Now I need to erase you to keep your mouth shut." Because of what Saint said, I saw a strange fear that enveloped Gayle's entire being.

Melissa sneered, turning back to the heiress. "Miss Hale, you are a queen, and you deserve to know that your fiancé has been seen everywhere with this Elara. She’s a gold digger and at first she trapped The Blackwood heirs, Nathaniel Blackwood. Later Nathaniel saw her true colors and divorced her. She is a disgraced woman with no family and no shame. She is trying to crawl her way back into high society through your man’s bed! She is a mistress, a nobody."