The One With The Fake Monica Mga Nobela at Kwento

But I know she can't see me as my car windows are tinted. I saw disappointment on Melvin's face and guessed her answer. But soon he was stopped by her. Then after a brief conversation, Melvin came and informed me that she agreed. I kept a straight face as if it doesn't matter. But I was relieved that she agreed. Otherwise, I will be doomed in front of Grandpa. Melvin was checking the documents, while he said I can sit inside the office to quickly do the procedures. I agreed as I have already wasted enough precious time for today. When I stepped out unknowingly my eyes took a glimpse of her again. our eyes got locked, but as she could not bear my intimidating stare she looked down. And a smal

"I gave you a chance to tell the truth, but it seems you didn't appreciate this chance. Your earrings are fake. These are the only limited edition earrings in the world, and the designer only sells one product. If you say your earrings are real, then my ruby earrings are fake? After Monica finished speaking, she took out a pair of ruby earrings from the closet that were identical to the earrings Bertha had given her. When Bertha saw Monica's earrings on the table, she knew she had made a serious mistake. The limited edition ruby earrings were bought by Monica a long time ago, so when Monica saw Bertha's gift, she knew it was a fake. Bertha couldn't say anything, she could only stay silent an

I'd probably be dead by now. "So, have fun girl." Courtney said with a perky attitude. "With the fake couple thing, I mean." "I won't, but no one can know about the fake part. Alright?" I told her. "Of course." She nodded. .

I let out a long yawn and slowly close my eyes, allowing myself to drift into a much-needed rest. When I open my eyes again, I'm in front of crowds. People were waving and jubilating. They seem so happy to see me. Just then, the door to my right opened and Maya walks up. My heart pounds furiously in my chest as I notice people starting to take an interest. Maya points an accusing finger at me, shouting, “I’m Maya, she’s the imposter!” I retreat slowly, feeling my heartbeat escalate beyond its normal rhythm. Suddenly, my phone rings, and I turn to see Petal holding it, glaring at me with intense eyes.

I asked, intrigued. "They think I sent those shooters after Anthony to get his property because he willed everything to me. They won't let me have it, and no matter how many lawyers I call, none are willing to work with me," Monica explained, desperation etched on her face. I raised an eyebrow. "So, what do you want me to do?" Monica's request caught me off guard. "I need you to be my fake husband.” I was taken aback by her request. “Your fake husband? What are you talking about, Monica?"

I asked in disbelief. "Yes, Luna," she answered and led me to another corner. "B- but you were reported to be dead, you committed suicide," I stuttered, finding it hard to believe. Could she be a ghost? Ghosts are not real, or are they? Even if ghosts were real, why would Monica come to me? I didn't harm her in any way, I was in fact trying to help her. "I faked my death," Monica told me. "You faked your death, how? Why?" I bombarded her with questions.

Ziyan said jokingly. "Hahaha, what do I want? So narsistic!" said Ilona. "We broke up tonight, but we'll get back together tomorrow, okay?" Ziyan said again in a joking tone. "No, let's just break up. I'll tell my mom later that I'm done with you! I'm bored!" said Ilona jokingly. "Oh, Man! So cruel! Yes, I know we're on a fake date, but why is my heartache real? Like being thrown away like that!” complained Ziyan, patting his chest.

“Will you help me?” I begged my childhood friend, Matteo Russo. “Right now, you’re the only person who can stand against Elijah. If you help me, I can fake my death and leave.” Matteo is the Don of the largest mafia family in Sinticily. To him, staging a fake death through an accident would be effortless. However, instead of answering, he asked, “Hazel, are you really willing to give up everything? Five years of marriage, and your son, who has always adored you. Once you fake your death, you’ll lose it all.”

Below it, a face flashed in high resolution. Sharp, aristocratic jawline. Slicked-back black hair. Cold, dead eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses. Damian Vance. A cold chuckle erupted from the tablet’s speaker, a voice untouched by any electronic modulator this time. "Four years, Lydia," Damian’s smooth, predatory voice echoed through the empty, rotting warehouse. "Did you really think a pathetic placeholder like Julian Miller could keep you from me? I let you play house. I let you pretend. But the game is over."

After crying for two straight nights, in my study room. I felt sun rays fall over my face. I was amused how the Sun comes up every day, can't he miss a single day and let me cry. Monica's words did not affect me at all in anyways and perhaps she knew about it that's why she sent those photos. To hurt me more. Just a month ago we were in a relationship. But that wasn't true at all. Every single thing about him has been fake.