The One With The Fake Monica นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"I'm Rhys. Friend of Damon's. Well, more of an acquaintance really." "Camila, his sister." "I know." His smile was warm. "You're a writer, and a business analyst." "What?" The fuck? He chuckled lowly. "I've followed your story. The viral video that started it all, the fake relationship with Lucien Hayes, the media and legal troubles. I've read every article about you." Fake? That made me pause. Even though we started out as a fake couple, we were very much real to the media. "That's... thorough."

He's nothing like what Victoria said about being ugly and fat! Hearing these thoughts, Daniel glared at me with mock annoyance. I pretended not to understand and looked at him innocently, then grinned.

Like he did not know what to do, nor what to say. ‘Laugh it off.’ Shira suggested. I laughed. A fake, put on laughter, all for the benefit of Zaine. “Too much drink, again, I think.” I rested my head upon his shoulder and he smiled. “Yeah?” His expression was unreadable. “Imagine tolerating you for longer than I needed to.” He quickly added, all but repeating my earlier words, and I smiled, glad that he wasn’t making this awkward. He seemed to have taken the get out I had offered. He did not want to use my offer of a fake relationship to trick his parents so he was not forced into an arranged marriage. I understood that. We were good as friends. I cannot imagine us as anything else, fake or

A four-wheeled vehicle arrived at Nathan's courtyard. Thanks to a forged document, Monica successfully deceived Nathan by claiming she had lost her baby. In reality, she was never pregnant. Monica stepped out of the car, pretending to be in pain in her lower abdomen. "Be careful!" Nathan supported her diligently, and as usual, they were greeted by many servants as they entered. Monica slowly sat in a chair; without being asked, Nathan immediately massaged her feet, which might have felt sore.

“After something like this, your foster parents will definitely think you embarrassed them, and they’ll throw you out. “I’ll marry Peter, and everything will be just like in the dream.” After saying that, she suddenly messed up her hair, let water drip down her body, reddened her eyes, and rushed out. I sensed danger and hurried after her. The moment I stepped out, four or five reporters blocked the door with cameras and recorders. Flash after flash lit up both of us. So she had already set a trap, and she had been waiting for me to fall for it. Vicky turned back with a triumphant smirk, then instantly switched into a dramatic victim.

The silence in the dining hall became absolute. Ava slowly lowered her fork. Monica stood up so quickly her chair nearly fell over. "That has to be fake." Winona couldn't disagree. She could clearly see herself near the staircase. She wasn't younger. She wasn't older. She looked exactly the same as she did right now. Across the room, Liam had already moved closer to the screen. "This is edited," he said immediately, though he sounded far less confident than usual. "It has to be." "Look near the reception desk," Moira said quietly.

"Mason, how could you let yourself be swayed by these false news narratives? Do you honestly think I have a malicious intent? This is all part of Alice's scheme to discredit me. She undermined my position in the competition and is now spreading defamation through the news." "You knew I wasn't present when she donned Sophie's outfit, yet you placed the blame squarely on me." Hiding her face behind her palms, Monica wept profusely, aiming to sway Mason. Falling for the fake tears, Mason's anger subsided. "Sweetheart, take it easy; I'm not questioning your trust, just seeking understanding. It's all about your design." Mason gripped Monica's hand, enveloped her in a gentle hug, and provided com

By this time she had bent to Monica’s level and then she touched her hand and then her neck. “Wait, are you pranking me?” She scoffed and turned to me. “What?” I feigned innocence not meeting her eyes. “She is not dead, and this doesn't even smell like blood but red paint. This is a prank?” She stood and faced me with a glare. We were about the same height but she can be intimidating with her stare. “No, I'm really dead!” Monica uttered, still playing dead on the floor and I mentally slapped my forehead. Yet she was made the cheer captain.

This woman has lost her mind. “What proposition Monica? What are you talking about?” I let out and once again she looked shocked, placing one hand over her heart. Her smile is as fake as her turkey teeth and her inflatable boobs. “You know, silly, about us working together to create the most memorable ball for our little girls,” she says and I frown, looking at her. “What the hell are you talking about, Monica?” I say, and she takes a deep breath, being overly dramatic as she is normal.