fake scenarios

After I was falsely accused of being a third wheel by a fake heiress, she hired a group of people to corner me in the delivery room under the pretense of giving me an intervention. "How dare you, a shameless mistress, hope to secure a place with your child!" "Today, I'm going to make sure that b*stard in your belly is gone for good. Let's see if you dare get into my man's bed again." The group blocked the delivery room door, their faces twisted with malice as they refused to let the doctors deliver my baby. I begged them to let me go, but they only laughed cruelly and forced me down in front of a camera while I struggled through labor. They forcefully pulled the baby out of my belly and killed him right in front of me. I clung to my child's lifeless body, sobbing hysterically, while they posted my miserable state online with the caption, 'This is what happens to mistresses.' Later, I exposed her fake heiress status and revealed the dirty secrets of her and those people who were allegedly giving me an intervention online. Relentlessly attacked by netizens until she had nowhere left to turn, she ended up begging me for forgiveness. I pointed to the edge of the rooftop and said, "Jump, and I'll forgive you."

My husband brings a pregnant Meryl Cleat home and lies to me, claiming that she's his stepmother. I'm wholly against the idea, but she says, "The children will call you their mother when they're born, so you don't have to go through the pain of childbirth. Think about how lucky you are, experiencing motherhood without the suffering!" I demand a divorce in the heat of the moment; Meryl is so infuriated by this that she faces labor complications and later dies. Out of guilt, I become a stay-at-home mother to care for her two super male kids. Yet they scaled me with boiling water and blind me in one eye. My health deteriorates under their intense torment, and I'm diagnosed with uremia. That's when I accidentally discover Meryl isn't my stepmother—she's my husband's mistress! I'm in despair when I return home. To make matters worse, I catch her—when she's supposed to be dead—and my husband in bed together. Her two super male sons ultimately stab me to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day she fakes her death!

"HHHEEYYY YALL IT'S YOUR FAVORITE GIRLS! We are back yall. We were pissed too, that we had to leave yall with that cliffhanger. But best believe somebody got a call about that . Anyway, we're back and on the Hunt for Shawna and Trixie. We know they're still out there alive, we just have to find them. But you already know that we have to deal with fake mated she-wolves, who just can't read the room. So, we have to deal with them hoes, aliens, and oh yea The Ocean God. I know yall thinking how the hell yall pissed off the Ocean God, but we will explain that later. Right now, buckle up, get your wine glasses, and make sure your phone cases are sturdy just in case you throw it. Now enjoy the emotional rollercoaster of The Hunt for Shawna and Trixie!

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I was the real daughter of the Sinclair family, yet I was the one abandoned when their fake daughter and I were kidnapped and taken to the top of a building. They were given a choice between the two of us, and they chose to save the fake daughter, letting me be pushed off from the eighteenth-floor balcony. Even though I survived, I was completely disappointed in them. Then, their attitudes changed overnight. My parents, who despised me, started asking me about my likes and dislikes. My brother who wished me dead, started suddenly giving me precious jewelry. Even my fiancé, who always claimed I was nothing compared to the fake daughter, started to prepare for our wedding. To say I was confused was an understatement.

When I found out he was my mate I knew he wouldn't leave her for me...I just hoped. She was beautiful and sweet and not in the fake kind of way either. He was the future alpha and she was the best fit for his future Luna. They looked and worked perfect together. He said the words that hurt me the most, "I can't be with you Elena, I love her." Fast forward six years... What happens when she goes away to college and comes back a new woman? Just how much has changed over the years? Read and find out! (Cover designed by @jullianreeds74)

"Even with your fake face nobody will love you." I heard my own father told me. I wasn't surprised, that has always been the way it is, he always mock my ugliness. But i didn't let that stop me from going after the man I want. Killian Lockwood is a man of the people, feared and adore by all, and this ugly girl wants to be his wife. I might not succeed but it won't hurt to try right? Follow me on my journey of beautifying myself and trying to get Killian to accept me. Follow this fake face queen on her journey to the upper level. * * * Please support my first book on this platform guys, I bet y'all won't regret it.

The most popular girl from my high school is getting married. She invites everyone in our class to the wedding. I want to act like I don't see the message, but she deliberately tags me in the group chat. "You kept pretending to be a rich girl like me in high school, but I don't hold it against you. In fact, I'll allow you to attend my wedding tomorrow to see what the rich life is like." The other classmates speak up. "You're so generous, Haley. It's no wonder you can marry someone from the Baumer family. I can't believe you can even forgive someone as materialistic as Emma!" "Does someone like Emma Larkin even deserve to attend Haley's wedding? She's so full of herself." As the insults become worse, Haley Stockwell steps forward to keep the peace. "Come on, let's put this behind us. I'm not bothered by these things since it's been so long. Anyway, let's not bear a grudge against Emma when she's already so poor and ugly." Everyone in the group chat starts singing her praises and calling her kind and innocent. I sneer. Haley is the one who kept pretending to be rich—I'm the true heiress from an affluent family, yet she made me out to be a liar. She turned me into the target of everyone's insults. I check the digital wedding invitation to see that the venue is my villa. The groom looks familiar—isn't he my husband's driver? I smile at the thought of what's going to happen. I reply, "Sure! I have to attend your wedding!"

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

Love For The Wicked Book Three. In my eyes, the world is a huge sandbox created for the big boys. Girls, money, business… and I always strive to come out on top until my father gave me an ultimatum. I needed to find a wife, or I’d lose my rights to the family business. I found the perfect woman for the scheme I devised, of course. She was beautiful, feisty, the picture-perfect wife to make my father believe I was done playing games. In return, she needed a favor, the kind that takes nine months to deliver. The rules were laid out meticulously, from the no touching to fake falling in love. After a year, we would part ways amicably with no hassle, no demands, and no regrets; after all, it was all just a game. As my plan took its course, it dawned on me that playing house was a game I never should have played. She started to grow on me, from that sexy little pout to the late nightcap, the endless dirty banter, and even the fights we had. I realize I enjoyed having her around. Trouble is, how will I make her believe I am not playing games anymore? That I don’t want her to be just my contract wife, that I don’t want twelve months with her but more?