Sussy Imposter Novels & Stories

I go back to scrubbing, nodding to myself. "Exactly. He's a psychopath. He's playing mind games. I bet he just wants to see how long it takes for me to spontaneously combust." "Are you talking to the sponges again?" I flinch so hard I drop the rag. I spin around. Alice is standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, looking at me like I belong in a straitjacket. Sophia and Eva are peeking out from behind her, holding a stack of dinner plates, their eyes wide with concern.

But I knew he was a coward, a leech who only stuck close to the nearest available skin just to drain as much blood as it could. “I’m a man who’s very bold about my actions. You’ve not seen me come in here and claim to be someone else, have you? Yet you sit there on your high horse, and think you can talk ill of me, huh? And I don’t trade secrets between companies like you do, Mr. Rudd. So tell me, please, who’s the imposter here?” I asked. His face went pale with shock instantly, followed by a pink discoloration that screamed embarrassment in the air. He’d been caught with his pants down.

But when she looked at Mr Kurt again, his expression was replaced with anger and doubt. Mr Kurt could have sworn he took this person before him as the same as Mr. S but then, It was impossible for that person to show up in this place. He believed Sawyer was an imposter. So, he began to roll up his sleeves, showing off his muscles. " You have the guts to call my name, you imposter! You better leave now or you'll regret it." Sawyer chuckled at his words. Raising his brows, he asked patiently, “ Imposter? Interesting. So, you won't let her go?”

The next few days turned into a strange sort of game. Not that I would call it that out loud. But it definitely felt like one. It felt like we were Tom and Jerry and I was Jerry, quietly making Tom's life difficult. My first attempt was subtle. And a little embarring I called him into my office under the perfectly reasonable excuse of discussing an upcoming investor meeting. “You wanted to see me?” he asked. I gestured to the chair across from my desk. “Sit.” Oddly enough, he hardly sat down whenever he was in my office. I guess that would burst his bubble of professionalism.

It was not about me being a fake heiress… It was about the imposter son! Casper was the imposter!

"Sophia—" "Let me finish." She met his eyes, raw honesty blazing in her expression. "I know what people say about me. Gold digger. Social climber. Lucky nobody who trapped a billionaire. And part of me wonders if they're right. Not about trapping you—we both know how this started—but about belonging. I look at your world, Liam, and sometimes I feel like an imposter wearing expensive clothes and pretending I understand which wine pairs with which course."

Inside, a man sat, hands folded neatly in front of him. He looked just like Jeremy. But every movement, every blink, felt wrong. The imposter raised his eyes to the camera and smiled. “I didn’t steal Jeremy’s life,” he said calmly. “He gave it to me.” Julius froze. Behind him, Selene’s voice broke the silence. “What the hell does that mean?” The imposter didn’t move. He just kept smiling.

Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit.