Fake Heiress, Real Trouble Mga Nobela at Kwento

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."

"Of course they don't know each other. The fake heiress lost her Westbridge University spot, so now she's resorting to cheap tricks to seduce Spencer. She's downright shameless for always trying to steal the real heiress' man." Me? Trying to seduce Spencer? What an absurd, pathetic assumption. I straightened the desk that had been kicked askew expressionlessly and erased the butterfly doodle with my eraser. Then, under the mix of sympathetic, scornful, and gloating stares, I walked out of the class with my head held high.

The words caught in my throat as the next headline blazed across the massive screen: “Rose de Montclair: The Fugitive Heiress — Exposed.” No, no, no. This can’t be real. This is a fucking nightmare.

“Look at this thread.” On the screen was a popular post in a forum, the headlines blaring in red. “Truth revealed! Fake heiress claims family wealth and pushes real heiress to despair with parents’ help!” Tammy recounted her harrowing story in first person, penning her grief vividly. According to her, she was separated from her parents for twenty years. Following her return to the family, she realized that home was dominated by an adopted imposter. Since the fake heiress was a menace, Tammy installed cameras in the house, but the camera shorted due to the fake heiress’ tampering. Heck, the imposter even tried to drown her in a hotel swimming pool.

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.

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ “As the cleaner you had your own uniform,” Lyn handed her a paper bag, Alexei get it and looked inside. It is a black with a touch of grey shirt and pants. “This it the room that you need to clean for today. There is also a mini map of the hotel,” Lyn handed her some papers, “your grandfather asked me to hide your identity as the heiress. Only me and the assistant manager knew.”‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎

I wanted to call out for help, but a part of me suspected I might be kidnapped, and alerting whoever was holding me might not be the best idea. I slipped on my slippers and stood up, feeling a bit dizzy. My head throbbed, but I managed to move forward. I gripped my hairpin tightly, using it as a makeshift defense. As I stepped out of the room, I took in the grandeur of the mansion. It was huge, even bigger than mine, and beautifully decorated. The walls were painted white, and the hallway was adorned with various art pieces. The opulence suggested that my kidnapper was wealthy, which made me wonder what their motives were because it was clear that they don't need money from me.

"And his date, who is she? She's absolutely gorgeous. It's like she stepped out of a fairy tale, a mix of queen and princess!" "Is she the next big thing, groomed by some entertainment tycoon, debuting at Victoria Garden House today? Just imagine, rubbing shoulders with the elite here could pave her way to stardom, as long as she steers clear of any bad deals." "Could be! However, what if she's the elusive Ms. Foster?" "No chance! Ms. Foster, the heiress of the Foster dynasty, wouldn't fly under the radar. Just look at her, clinging to Mr. James Foster like she's his shadow..."

“News? What news?” “You… better not look at it. Just remember, I believe you.” His tone turned cautious, almost fragile. The call ended. I immediately opened the news app. I didn’t even need to search. A bold headline popped up right away: “Heiress’s Chaotic Private Life: Secret Hotel Tryst With Mystery Man.”

My heart raced at a dangerous, traitorous speed. I stared at his retreating back the clumsy, exaggerated steps, the way he swung his arms like a little boy. It was too perfect. Too deliberate. A masterpiece of deception. Father thought he had sold me to a fool. Clara believed she had mocked a tragedy. The entire elite world whispered about the broken Thornhart heir who needed a nanny instead of a wife. But as I pressed trembling fingers to the place his hand had seared, I knew the truth with chilling clarity. I hadn’t been sold to a boy.