Fake You Novels & Stories

A simple notification on my phone, but it carried a weight that made my stomach drop. It was a doctored video. The title alone made my heart hammer in my chest: Zane Blackwood: The Truth You Cannot Ignore. I tapped it, curiosity overcoming fear, and instantly my screen filled with images of Zane in settings I did not recognize, his expressions carefully edited, his words twisted. The video painted him as reckless, irresponsible, and deceitful. I watched as the clips flashed too quickly for me to follow every detail, but the overall message was clear: Zane had been compromised, and by association, so had I.

But if I got arrested or fired, I would never get another golden opportunity like this to avenge my mom’s brutal death. So I recited my new mantra: Fake it till you make it. “It’s just that I got selected into the internship program, but I still wasn’t able to go in. Miss Harper only distributed my friends and colleagues into their different departments,except me…just because I was an intern and would be working under her. So It made me extremely sad.” As I began explaining to him, I made my voice sound a lot more vulnerable and sad, so he could help me get in.

Daniel nodded his head, “You should. I think we need to pile as much as we can on her.” I asked, “How would you fake my death and make it look real?” Daniel smiled, “I have a friend who is on the local police force. His wife is a make-up artist for movie producers. They work together to do this all the time. We were thinking that if we could fake your death until after her trial, you would be okay to continue on with your life.”

“Us. Together. Holding hands at some market, me laughing at your dumb jokes, you kissing my cheek at a banquet. Whatever makes us look stupidly in love. People eat that crap up. They’ll forget the rumors in a week.” He stared at me for a long second. Then I laughed. Real laugh, head back. “You want to fake date me. Publicly.” “Exactly.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You know what happens when people pretend something long enough?” I crossed my arms. “What?” “They start believing it. And then they become it.” My stomach flipped but I kept my face blank. “Not gonna happen.” He smirked. “Wanna bet?” I lifted my chin. “Name your terms.”

What's with the fake sentiments? Fabian, however, shoved forward with the same arrogance and pride he had always carried. His face was red, furious and embarrassed. At least some people never change. "This is a joke!" he barked. "She's a fraud. A pretender. You freaking died-how can you fake your own death and come back as an Alpha? That isn't possible, she's an abomination, a fucking disgusting hybrid." I didn't spare him a glance; all I did was roll my eyes.

Meanwhile, I made a fake call to myself. “Yes,” I said, answering the phone. I pretended to listen for a while. As the screen scrolled rapidly, I intended to prolong the conversation. “Yes, the amount is six million, I'm still waiting for the email.” I hoped the police wouldn't be too late. Otherwise, our exit wouldn't be as easy as I thought. “Yes, Luke Freeman will receive the money. He's my brother!” My mood improved as the accounts on the screen hit zero one by one. I didn't think I'd be having fun while in the middle of a dangerous situation, but I was actually enjoying myself quite a bit.

“you are not the one who did anything wrong..” “That doesn’t matter,” I say, voice thin. “Truth doesn’t trend. Drama does.” More notifications flood in.Someone created a fake account pretending to be me same profile picture same name,even the same pinned tweet. It’s posting fake “apologies,” fake screenshots of DMs with Aiden, and a statement claiming I “I was force to be in a fake relastionship” I open the comments. People are arguing about which account is the “real” me. Some are defending me; others are convinced I’m lying. My throat feels tight. I want to speak, to correct them all, but I know better. The more I respond, the deeper it gets.

“Kill me now. I’m surrounded by people who think 'spontaneity' is choosing a different brand of sparkling water. I need you.” I waited, the blue bubble of my own text staring back at me. A second later, the dots appeared. “Lila:Are you wearing the blazer? Please tell me you’re wearing the blazer. I’m currently covered in charcoal and eating cold pizza. Want me to send a distraction? I could call in a fake fire drill.” A small, genuine smile cracked my mask. I started typing back, my thumbs moving fast, desperate to hold onto the "unpredictable" energy she radiated even through a screen.

But they looked real—time stamps, phone numbers, even the way they were written sounded like something she might say. Ariana had done this. Perfectly. Meticulously. Leon looked up. His eyes found Aria's. For one terrible moment, she saw doubt flicker there. "Leon." Her voice cracked. "Please. You know me. You know I would never—" "I know." His voice was firm, certain. He handed the phone back to Vanessa without looking at it again. "These are fake. Manufactured to create doubt. I'm not falling for it either." Aria felt such a wave of relief that her knees weakened.

"Phase One: The Mythos. The two characters in your script, Katie and Micah—they are no longer characters. As of next week, they are real people. We create MySpace profiles for both of them." "MySpace?" he asked, bewildered. "It's where the entire world under thirty lives, Leo. Pay attention," I said sharply. "We build their lives. We give them friends—we'll create a dozen fake supporting profiles to interact with them. We post photos of them at barbecues, at the beach. We write bulletins about their boring, everyday lives. We make them utterly, convincingly real to anyone who stumbles across their pages."