Novel & Cerita Night Fake Couple Snap

On the screen: T*****r. #SiennaAndHerMaid – #1 Trending. The top photo was brutal it was me holding her on the stairs, her face turned toward me, my arm snug around her waist. It looked less like I was preventing disaster and more like a romantic embrace. Another showed us exiting the hotel together, side by side. To the internet, it screamed secret couple sneaking off into the night. The captions were merciless. “Hollywood queen’s forbidden romance?” “Caught in the act— Sienna Blaze’s mystery man revealed.”

I watched with hooded eyes as he turned and quietly left the bedroom. I got an idea, impulsive and emboldened by the lingering tequila warmth, I scrolled through my phone. A wicked idea formed. Snapping a photo of just my tousled hair and a glimpse of muscled forearm, I posted it to I***a with the caption: "My new caring boyfriend took such good care of me tonight 😘" I drifted off to sleep with a naughty smile, secure in the knowledge Chris would be close by - and speculation about my post would run rampant by morning.

Shares. I open the most recent video that was posted from my official account. The one Sebastian and I built together for our couples content, brand deals, and those nauseatingly perfect PR packages. In the video, Marcellus is shirtless in this exact suite, holding the camera with one hand while I lie passed out behind him, my hair a wild mess, my lipstick smudged, that ridiculous diamond flashing on my finger as it drapes over the pillow. "Hey everyone," he says in the clip, his eyes sparkling again. "I'd like everyone to meet my wife.. Say hello to the new Mrs Gregory."

"And her... that girl...that's Ava Collins." "They are married, so it's Ava Hargrave...I follow her online...she stopped posting few months ago...Nice to know she is fine and happy." The whispers and gossips turned into requests. A few fans approached us nervously. “Um… sorry to interrupt,” one girl said shyly, “but can we take a picture with you two? You’re like, the dream couple.” I froze, feeling my cheeks burn. Nathaniel didn’t flinch. He grinned, wrapping an arm proudly around my waist. “Of course. Come on.”

"This marriage is fake!" Everyone gasps, and Adam pulls me close to him. Someone pushes a microphone towards the waitress, and she gives the journalist a big, fake smile. "Adam Owens is a fraud, and you shouldn't believe his lies. I'm his real wife, and I want what's mine!" She snarled. "That's right, everyone. I'm his real wife." Nina Dobrev. The gold digging waitress who married Adam in Vegas and as she calls herself; his real wife, or realish at least.

Nicole’s alarm clock rang, waking her up from her beauty sleep. Nicole had requested to go back to her apartment last night. She felt a lot more comfortable without waking up to see so many maids. She looked at her phone and saw that the photos from last night’s party had pushed her and Eric to fame once again. [Rich ex-couple suspected to be back together?] It was attached with a picture of Eric and Nicole’s kiss at the end of the dance. It was an ingenious shot. Even the lighting and background looked very artistic.

A girl two rows back leaned over to her friend and whispered something behind her hand. My face burned. Follow our case. We were a fake couple who'd known each other for less than a week. We were nowhere near the kind of thing he studied. The flashes kept going off, bright bursts that left spots in my vision every time I blinked. I sat back down — back onto Damon's lap, because there was still no other seat — and looked at him, expecting to find him at least a little caught out. We'd just been volunteered for a medical study. For a relationship that didn't exist.

In the end, I still said quietly, "Let's get a divorce." Doug immediately snapped, grabbing me and forcing a kiss on me. "You want a divorce over something this small? Stop making a scene. You're mine, dead or alive!" I curved my lips into a faint smile. It didn't matter. The marriage certificate was fake anyway. And soon enough, I really would "die" right in front of him. Two hours later, Chad came and took me from the house. When Doug rushed over, disheveled, Chad was calmly wiping down his gun with a white glove, his tone lazy.

“Blake. You’re not seriously thinking of going.” I held up my phone. “He wasn’t bluffing.” I pulled up G****e. And just like that, there he was. Ethan Blackwood. Beautiful. Rich. Dangerous. Photographed in tailored suits, arm in arm with senators and Silicon Valley royalty. A few articles mentioned a breakup two years ago. But no photos of her. Like she never existed. Amelia frowned at my screen. “That’s… creepy.” “Right?” “Still. You can’t go there alone. You don’t know what kind of psycho he is.”

I opened the comment section, “This isn't Zade, This man is taller than Zade, Zade has a tattoo and this man doesn't, Who is he? Blair, did you and Zade break up? What's going on? Blair, he is a fine man!!! Who the fuck is he? Blair, what happened to our husband? Is this our new in-law? OMG, the IT couple aren't together anymore!!! Blair, speak up!!! What's going on?!!! This man does look familiar, I don't know where I have seen him before,” I blushed seeing all the comments. I don't know when I took this picture but I'm glad I took it. I will read all the comments later. I entered my gallery to see if there were any more pictures. I scrolled through it and the pictures and videos made my ja