Faking With Benefits Novels & Stories

“Fine. One month. No hero moves, okay? Promise me.” “I promise.” I meant it. This had to be careful and quick. Slow and steady would not help now. She picked up the folder Andre had given me, “These are the things you might need, including your fake medical report. Andre’s people did a clean job. It looks real. Make sure you do not volunteer extra details.” “I will stick to the story,” I said. “Recovering from the accident. Doctors cleared me. I am ready to return to work.” “You’re walking into your old job with a fake medical record, Lisa. You know that, right? This could blow up.”

My stomach flipped. I reread the line at least twenty-three times, as if it would suddenly change to, "Just kidding! Singles welcome! We love lonely intellectuals with control issues!" But no. I was stuck. I mean... it was just a small lie, right? I wasn’t hurting anyone. And it was for a good cause—my research on emotional intimacy in long-term relationships. I needed this grant. I needed peace. I needed the space. I just… needed a fake husband.

Zack seemed to notice the change in my expression, but instead of pushing me for an answer, he said, “And Lola, I am sorry about what I said earlier. I was judging you based on assumptions, and that was unfair.” I looked at him, surprised by the apology because Zack was not exactly the type of man who seemed comfortable admitting when he was wrong. “I do not want to judge you for anything,” he continued, “I only want a fake relationship for my grandmother, and if you agree, I will make sure you are paid properly.” For some reason, his apology bothered me almost as much as his offer, because a small part of me had wanted him to understand that I was not the person he had decided I was.

The video had gone viral, just as I expected. Thanks to the cash drops Anya had scattered, the traffic spiked within minutes. The comments poured in. Many users identified him as Benjamin Southall, a wealthy heir in the capital. They said I had been scammed and urged me to get my money back. Others sent private messages, telling me not to be afraid. They said this was not my fault. [Collect your evidence. If he dared to lie to you, you can fight back.] I was genuinely grateful, but I could not simply reply with a thank-you.

‘Tell your boss that I’m not attending,’ I snapped at him. ‘You do know that another job anywhere else would be quite difficult for an applicant with…complicated work and personal history,’ he tilted his head. My throat felt dry, making it difficult for me to respond. ‘Did you think you could resign from your job just like that without any future penalties?’ He asked. He was blackmailing me. My fists automatically clenched at the thought, but I knew I had to play along. For my mother’s health. I needed another job desperately, and a good-paying one at that.

"You're lying to us. A newspaper report doesn't prove anything—" I threw a paternity test at them and said, "He already bribed all the doctors when he showed up and claimed to be Ethan. The test that he gave you was fake. This is the real one. "Also, he's been using the house rules that you set up to force me to give him money this entire time, forbidding me from telling you what was going on. The money in my bank account didn't just disappear into thin air. I gave every single cent that I owned to him!"

After the call, he turns his attention back to me. "Okay," he said, "I'll save your mother, as long as you fulfilled your promise." This is all for you mom, "I promise." •●• "You agreed to his proposal?" Zoe asks and I nodded "my friend you are getting bolder and bolder every day." He told me not to tell anyone that this is going to be a fake marriage, but I already told Zoe but I didn't mention it to him. "I happy for you," she laughs "like they say these days faking it in style."

I can't go back to doing bad things few hours after I swore not to do them. "I want to propose a collaboration with your company - Fmotors." I said quietly. "My company?" He laughed. "You want me to work with a company that's about to go under?" He laughed. "It's not going under, all that is a big misunderstanding which must have been cleared up by now." I said. "Cleared up?" He asked. "Yes, it was just fake news, it was done by a malicious person who wants my company to crumble but one's year of hardwork can't just vanish like that, can it?" I questioned.

"You want me to destroy myself. To admit to crimes that will put me in prison for life. Why would I do that?" "Because if you don't," I said while walking over to stand directly in front of him, "I won't just release fake evidence. I'll create so much fake evidence that no one will ever be able to tell what's real and what isn't. I'll make you look guilty of things you didn't even do. I'll fabricate emails showing you planning terrorist attacks. I'll create bank records showing you funding child trafficking rings. By the time I'm done your name will be associated with every horrible thing I can imagine. And you'll be dead so you won't be able to defend yourself."

A blank canvas I can shape without the usual resistance I get from women who think they have leverage. My hand moves before I can stop it. I pull my phone from my jacket pocket, keeping it low under the table edge where the others cannot see. The screen lights up. Her profile loads instantly, the one she spent years building to hide the truth. I scroll slowly, my thumb moving almost on autopilot. There she is at some fake charity brunch, smiling in a rented red dress that hugs her body exactly the way the silk nightwear did last night when I peeled it off her. The caption reads something about “grateful for old friends and new beginnings.” Silly. Innocent. Completely fabricated.