Fiction Disclaimer Novels & Stories

Jeanne coldly mocked, "Do you think you could hide this, Charlotte? I didn't want to interfere in my brother's love life, but you chose to get right in the line of fire. I asked around at your school, and to my surprise, you led quite the exciting life overseas!" Charlotte's expression worsened by the second, her voice trembling as she struggled to explain, "I-It was all a mistake! I'm being framed!" "You are, hm?" Jeanne snickered. "Then can you explain what's happening in these photos? Those 'friends' of yours from overseas told me how promiscuous you are, and how many men you slept with. What's with the pure and innocent act now?" It was as if the air in the hall froze, Jeanne's words imp

Furthermore, I implore you, if you struggle with any body dysmorphic or eating disorder and feel literature could be triggering or damaging, please read with caution. Secondly, Creature is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions (like the Royal Opera House and Bolshoi Ballet) are mentioned, but the characters involved are completely imaginary. . ｡༶・° T E R M I N O L O G Y °・༶ ｡.

“I did it for you.” “What...?” I shakily looked back up at her, finding her eyes wide in surprise. “To make Liam scared of losing me,” I lied. “I jumped into the lake and faked a coma for several days. Now Liam is more devoted to me than ever before.” It was a bold lie, but I was pretty sure she had no way to prove otherwise. I was mostly betting on the medical knowledge being below average. I doubted that doctors inside a historical setting book would have equipment or knowledge that even remotely compared to hospitals in the modern era where I was from. That, and the fact Scarlett’s mother probably hadn’t even bothered to visit much during the time I was unconscious.

Chapter 25: The Lie I couldn’t breathe. The hospital report glowed on my phone screen like evidence from a crime scene. Multiple pages. Official stamps. Doctor signatures. All confirming what I had suspected but never fully believed. Bianca Lang’s “heart condition” was fake. Completely fabricated for years. I read the final note again, my hands shaking so badly the screen blurred: **“Patient admits fabricating cardiac symptoms for emotional leverage and attention in personal relationships. No underlying condition found.”**

“Bless you, someone submitted their fantasy for your consideration. Pretend you didn’t see the names. If you let it through, the editor will ask them to change it.” Zach returned to his computer with no enthusiasm. It was good to know that they wouldn’t allow a thinly veiled fiction fantasy involving their CEO be published in its original state. Due to the poor quality of the writing, he was able to reject it quickly without any other consideration. It would be awkward for him if a story about an intern and an obvious Darien character having sex got to the publishing stage. It was too on the nose for his situation. Not that Darien would want to sleep with him though.

I scrolled with trembling fingers, my vision blurring as I read the words that felt like they had been ripped from my private nightmares. The article was a masterpiece of cruelty. It claimed that ten years ago, I had fabricated my pregnancy to force Tristan into a marriage he didn't want. It alleged that when the "lie" was about to be discovered, I had faked a miscarriage and fled the country with a settlement, only to return now to "finish the job" and seize the company.

I walked away from the table, from the fake breakfast, from the woman who didn't belong- and from the man who stopped being my father a long time ago. I didn't look back. The sting on my cheek was a dull burn by the time I slammed the door behind me. I had enough. Enough of the lies, the stranger's, the twisted 'family' Jackson played at. I needed somewhere to disappear. Somewhere that wasn't his world. School wasn't much better, but it was familiar.

“This is classic intimidation through platform policy. They want you to self-censor or yank chapters. Don’t.” My hands clenched. “I’m not deleting anything.” “Good,” counsel said. “We add a standard fiction disclaimer and we tighten any passages that might be interpreted as naming a real entity. That’s not surrender. That’s sanitation.” Sanitation. Not weaponizing. Not theatre. Structure. I nodded once. “Tell me what you need from me.” Counsel’s gaze softened a fraction. “Two things. One: proof that you are the original author—draft files, chapter timestamps, outline submission confirmation. Two: a clean statement that the work is fictional and not affiliated