روايات وقصص ضمن Fake Heiress, Real Trouble

The fake heiress was dead. My biological parents believed I was responsible. Together, they reported me to the authorities and demanded that my memories be extracted. After watching my memories, everyone broke down in tears. But I smiled. This was exactly what I wanted. To become the perfect victim.

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

Brian called it. “Pop-up my ass!”, Jake thought. The place reeked of moldering concrete and spilled cognac, the air sticky with sweat and the kind of desperation that clung to rich kids slumming it for the night. His brother Brian was in his element, pressed against a redhead in a sequined tube top near the makeshift bar. Her laugh pierced the noise, sharp and performative, as Brian’s hand slid down her waist. Jake knew the drill: Brian would charm her, fuck her in some VIP bathroom, then ghost her by sunrise. The Reagan playbook.

My suit was just pressed when I got to Reid Industries, and I was already planning for eventualities. The faint sound of my footfall as soon as I entered the foyer served as a reminder of how vulnerable we had become. Ethan's antics were no longer an annoyance; rather, they posed a direct risk to Sophia's security and the meticulously maintained incognito she still maintained. Marta, my assistant, greeted me at the elevators with a somber look on her face. "You must see this, sir." She gave me a tablet with a breaking-news push alert on it( "Uncovering the Mysterious Heiress: Barista 'Sophia Thomas' Is not Who She Says She Is")

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

" I slipped my phone into my pocket and regarded my so-called fiance, whose understanding of the law was nonexistent. "So if someone tries to stab me and I dodge, resulting in them striking a wall and injuring their hand, I'm the one at fault here?" I asked. Carlo was rendered speechless. He could only glare at me. Silvia, despite having only a minor scrape, made a scene by using a wheelchair. The entire famiglia acted as her devoted entourage on the way back home. In order to comfort Silvia, Mamma retrieved the famiglia heirloom from the safe. It was a red diamond necklace that was meant to be for me, her biological daughter.

Isabella's POV The morning after the gala, my face was on every news site and social media platform in the country. "The Lost Morrison Heiress Found." "Billionaire's Long-Lost Granddaughter Revealed." But my favorite headline was from a gossip blog: "Marcus Wei's Biggest Mistake: He Divorced a Morrison." I read that one three times before I started making calls. It was time to stop playing defense. Time to attack. I woke up in my bedroom at the Morrison estate to my phone vibrating nonstop.

With flawless makeup on, I looked straight into the camera and calmly said, "Yes, I'm Cindy, the so-called arrogant and domineering heiress who beat her two brothers and cut ties with her biological father. "For those who want to criticize me, this livestream is open. Just for today, nobody will be banned for anything they say."

he said, each word carved from steel,"you will all be fired before you finish your lunch." Hands shook. Phones lowered. Screens were frantically cleared. But the damage was done. Everyone had seen Kai's arm around me. Heard him claim he was my fiancé. Seen Alan's reaction. To them, the dots were already connected. Julia Carter — the fake heiress begging for financial help — was now suddenly in the middle of a love triangle between her boss and a new auditor. Scandal.Louder than ever.Heavier than yesterday. Kai realized it too. "Jules…" he whispered, regret flooding his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pull you into more trouble."

"Are you telling me that you married one of the richest guy in Italy?" I nodded. “Moira, I am Fabe Ava Everette-Hamilton,” I confessed. She knows me by Ava, not the whole me. "Oh, God," she gasps in shock, "You are the billionaire heiress. What's that on the internet? I followed that news, ah! Miss Nobody: The Worthless Projected Wife is Trillion-Dollar Queen by John Dawson." "That's me." "No fucking way! I think I'm going to freak out," Moira shakes her hands.