When The Family Reads The Fake Heiress' Mind Novels & Stories

“My parents want me to find a mate if I’m going to remain as the family heir. They told me they’d renounce me if I didn’t find one by the end of the year, which is in just a few weeks.” “You offered once, Zane. I said no. I’m sticking by that.” I looked away. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.” “It wouldn’t have to be real.” I snapped my gaze over to him. “What?” “A fake relationship. In exchange, I won’t tell anyone about your real identity. Not even Mia.” I shot to my feet. “Fuck you, Zane. That’s cruel, even for you.” Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and stormed off. Fucking men.

As soon as he left my cabin, Nate appeared at the doorway, "What was Hoult doing here?" "Who the hell let him in?" I shot back. He was supposed to be taking my appointment to meet me. "He said you were expecting him." Nate said, sounding confused. I couldn’t believe he played Nate so easily. He would be the last man for me to expect. His knowledge about my fake engagement doing no good at all. Though he said otherwise, I would never believe him. Reaching my parents and telling them about me would be nothing hard for him. Losing inheritance was one side but letting Tristan make me lose it was another. And I would choose to die over that. So, let him go with his plan to pursue Eden was the onl

In front of me was an opened booklet which I ignored and reply to her. "Don't be too judgemental, Ms. Davis. I will soon be your Fiance." Smilingly, she nodded but seems she was forcing the smile. It looked more artificial on her face than the one I secretly saw her sprout. "Err— Yes, our deal is sealed so far you read through the contract and sign it." She said and eyed the booklet that was spread open in front of me. A weird snicker escaped from my lips as I read the Contract heading. 'CALL FOR CONTRACT: MAFIA HEIRESS'S FICTITIOUS FIANCE'

"Celeste! You'll come to a bad end! Just you wait! I won't let this go! I'm the real heiress! I'm the real—" There was a lot buried in what Ivy had just screamed. My mother hadn't caught it, but I—a well-read woman in my own right—understood perfectly. Ivy had been reborn. Well, wasn't that something. A story about a real heiress and a fake one had just turned into a story about a reborn real heiress running into a transmigrated fake one. Talk about a plot twist. … After a few days locked in her courtyard, Ivy seemed to have learned her lesson.

“She’s the real genius here. The heart of this family. Even while she was away for two years, she kept guiding us. She just came back and made this happen.” The crowd reacted instantly, voices rising, flashes intensifying, and just like that, the narrative was sealed. Anabella didn’t interrupt. She stayed two steps behind, arms loosely crossed, sunglasses shielding her eyes and expression bored as if she had seen this exact performance too many times to care anymore. The lie rolled past her easily, and she let it, because stepping forward meant standing where they were standing, and she had no interest in sharing space with people who needed applause to feel important. Her blood brothers had

Agatha said with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. Sarah frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?" She asked them. Agatha increased her smile, a sly grin spreading across her face. "We presented the elders with a fake heirloom. The real one is still out there, and if Lunaria finds it, she'll become the heir." Sarah felt a chill run down her spine as Lillian pulled out a necklace. "This is the fake heirloom," she said, holding it up. But as soon as Sarah saw the necklace, she let out a scream.

I gritted my teeth, feeling a tearing pain that drenched me in sweat, followed by a sudden sense of relief. I trembled, reaching down, and to my shock, I felt my baby's head. I looked up, my eyes pleading, toward the fake heiress. "The baby's head is out! Please help me call a doctor. If you let my child be born safely, I'll give you anything, even the title of the billionaire's daughter…" The fake heiress approached me with a cold stare. She pinched my face to aim it at the screen, her voice dripping with malice as she asked, "Do you all want to see the spawn of a mistress being born?"

"So what if it was? No matter what I say, Dad, Mom, and Johnny will always believe me unconditionally. I'm the most beloved daughter of the Sterling family. As long as I'm here, you'll never get anything!" "You think I care about being the Sterling family's heiress?" "Oh drop the act already. If you didn't, why did you come back with me? Fine, I'll tell you the truth. I'm a transmigrator. You were supposed to return to the Sterling family five years ago based on the original storyline. Do you know why you didn't? It's because of me! "I spent five years reshaping my fate, making sure everyone trusts and depends on me. This time, I'll rewrite my destiny as the fake heiress!"

Esther frantically shook her head, screaming, "You’ve got to be kidding! All these years? The mansion I’ve been living in? The luxury cars I’ve been riding in? They can’t be fake! It’s all real, right?" Tim’s voice trembled as he confessed, "It’s… all Mr. Jones’s…" My dad frowned in confusion. "I don’t remember giving you any of those things." Esther opened her mouth, about to say something, but Tim grabbed her arm. I couldn’t help but think how strange she was acting, like she genuinely believed she was the real heiress. Tim’s gaze darted nervously. "We… snuck into the house. Mr. Jones has many properties. It’s only normal that he forgot about one."

The shoes on my feet were worth more. My biological mother reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled scrap of red fabric, grinning with a mouthful of uneven teeth. "Don't you worry, baby. That Crawford man, well, his last wife left because he had a temper, but if you're good and give him a son, I'm sure he won't lay a hand on you." Nausea surged from my stomach straight to the back of my throat. I looked left at the manipulative schemer and the spineless traitor. I looked right at the pair of biological strangers who'd sold me for a better offer. Then I looked at Margaret, standing three feet back with her arms crossed, watching it all like she was enjoying a show.