Billionaire's Fake Savior: Unmasking The Truth
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke.
The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment.
While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart.
The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement.
Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master.
Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place.
"You," he whispered.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 8
Imogene's apartment was a closet with a window. It smelled of boiled cabbage from the neighbor's unit and damp plaster. She sat on her mattress, her phone vibrating incessantly against her leg.
Tiffany was live-tweeting her fantasy life.
Ping.
A photo. Tiffany's manicured hand resting on the leather seat of a car.
Caption: Riding in style. Cervantes Group knows how to treat a girl.
Imogene frowned. She zoomed in on the photo. The leather was worn. It wasn't a Maybach. It was a Lincoln Town Car-the standard car service the club used for VIP guests. Tiffany was lying.
Ping.
Imogene typed: Be careful, Tiff. These people aren't playing games.
Tiffany replied: Don't be jealous, Immy. This is my shot.
The next day, Tiffany didn't show up for her shift.
At noon, Imogene's phone buzzed again.
It was a photo sent directly to her. It showed a room. A massive, sun-drenched living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. In the corner, a twisted metal sculpture stood upright.
Imogene stopped breathing. It was the penthouse.
Tiffany's text: He invited me over. Said the place was too big for one person.
Imogene stared at the image. How? How did she get in?
The truth was mundane. Tiffany, emboldened, had called Marcus's office, playing the part of the concerned savior. She claimed she'd left a "sentimental" earring in the suite during the "incident." Marcus, needing to maintain the fragile cover story, had reluctantly authorized a one-time, ten-minute escorted entry for her to "retrieve" it. She'd used seven of those minutes to snap photos before being politely removed by security.
But Imogene didn't know that.
She felt a sharp, acidic sting in her chest. Jealousy? No. It was betrayal. That room was where she had saved him. That room was where he had held her.
"He chose her," Imogene whispered.
It made sense. Tiffany was beautiful. She was vibrant. She wasn't broken. Maybe Kenan remembered the night through a haze and his mind filled in the blanks with Tiffany's face.
Imogene forced herself to type back. Good luck.
She put the phone down. She had to let it go. If Tiffany was the "chosen one," then Imogene was safe. No one would come looking for the girl in the hoodie.
Meanwhile, Tiffany lay on her bed in her cramped Queens apartment, posting the photos to Instagram. She tagged them vaguely. NewBeginnings K.
Within hours, the gossip blogs picked it up. Mystery Brunette Linked to Tech Mogul Kenan Cervantes?
At Cervantes HQ, the PR algorithm flagged the posts.
"Sir," Marcus said, entering Kenan's office. "There are rumors. The girl... Tiffany. She's posting implications."
Kenan didn't look up from his code. "Is she showing my face?"
"No. Just the apartment."
"Let her," Kenan said. "It distracts the press from the health rumors. A playboy narrative is better than a dying CEO narrative."
"Understood."
Back at the club, the breakroom was buzzing.
"Did you see?" Sophie whispered. "Tiffany is practically living with him!"
"She's so lucky," another girl sighed.
Imogene wiped down the table, her movements mechanical.
"Imogene," Sophie called out. "You think she'll get us invited to the wedding?"
Imogene looked up. Her eyes were dull behind her glasses. "I hope so."
She walked out, feeling the weight of the lie pressing down on her. She was safe, yes. But she had never felt more alone. The world was celebrating a fake fairytale, while the real princess was scrubbing floors.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
7.1
Hana never planned to fall into the world of Kang Jae-Hyun.
She was just a struggling young woman trying to support her family when a single mistake brought her face-to-face with Seoul's coldest and most powerful CEO. What began as a contract - a fake engagement meant to satisfy a ruthless family and protect a fragile empire - quickly turns into something far more dangerous.
Behind Jae-Hyun's flawless image lies grief, pressure, and a heart he locked away long ago. Behind Hana's warm smile is quiet resilience and scars she never talks about.
As secrets surface, enemies close in, and the line between pretend and real begins to blur, Hana must decide:
Was this relationship ever just business - or was it always fate?
A slow-burn romance filled with tension, secrets, and a love that wasn't supposed to happen.
8.5
For two years, I was the perfect shadow of another woman. I wore the silk robes Brittain Austin bought, styled my hair exactly how he liked, and spoke in a voice pitched half an octave higher than my own. I was a placeholder, a living statue in a minimalist Manhattan penthouse, waiting for a man who looked at me but never actually saw me.
Everything shattered when a news alert flashed on my phone: "Caryn Newman Spotted at JFK." The original was back. The woman I was hired to mimic had returned to claim her throne, and my secret two-year contract as her stand-in was set to expire in three days.
Brittain didn't even give me the courtesy of a phone call. While he was supposed to be on a business trip, photos surfaced of him shielding Caryn from the paparazzi, his hand on her waist with a tenderness he never showed me. When I walked into his office to return his keys, he didn't look guilty; he just looked annoyed. He pulled out a checkbook and asked, "How much for the hurt feelings?" When I refused his money, he coldly ordered his assistant to freeze every one of my accounts before I even reached the elevator.
I stood on the sidewalk with zero dollars, realizing that to him, I wasn't a partner—I was just an expired lease. I had spent two years erasing my soul to fit into his world, only to be tossed out like trash the moment the real thing came home.
But Brittain forgot one thing: before I was his doll, I was an actress. I pulled my secret weapon from under the bed—a notebook and a raw film cut he never knew existed. I called my agent and launched a high-profile "showmance" with my co-star that set the internet on fire.
As I blocked Brittain's number and moved into a dusty apartment in Queens, I realized the show wasn't over. For the first time, I was the leading lady.
8.6
On the night of her third wedding anniversary, Isabella Hart discovered her husband in another woman's bed.
By morning, she was divorced.
Humiliated. Replaced. Erased.
After three years of loving a man who treated her like a shadow in her own marriage, Isabella walks away with nothing but her pride - and a secret she refuses to tell him.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Hours after signing the divorce papers, she accidentally marries the most powerful and dangerously untouchable man in the city - billionaire CEO Alexander Laurent - in a legally binding contract mistake that cannot be undone.
Alexander needs a wife to secure his inheritance.
Isabella needs revenge.
What begins as a cold-blooded deal soon turns into something neither of them expected.
Because her ex-husband suddenly wants her back.
And this time... she's no longer the woman he threw away.
But when secrets unravel and the truth about that anniversary night comes to light, Isabella must decide-
Is this marriage her salvation... or her greatest mistake?
8.2
For five years, I was the invisible glue holding Damien Crawford together. I was the one who pulled him from a burning car until the skin melted off my back, and I was the one who donated bone marrow when he was on death's door. I even gave up a full-ride scholarship to MIT just to be his nurse.
Yet, he believed his mistress, Hadley, was his savior. To him, I was just the maid's daughter who changed his bedpans—a piece of furniture he could abuse while he planned his wedding to another woman.
But his cruelty didn't stop at verbal abuse. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Damien refused to let me use the car, choosing to comfort Hadley over a fake panic attack instead.
His mother even slashed the tires to ensure I couldn't leave.
While my father died cold and alone, Damien stabbed a needle into my hand just to teach me a lesson about "respect," oblivious to the fact that the scars on my skin were the receipt for his life.
He didn't know he was torturing the only person who had ever truly loved him. But the girl who begged for crumbs of affection died along with her father that day.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number saved simply as a dot.
"He's dead," I whispered to the man on the other end—Anderson Morrison, the city's most feared Don and my sworn protector.
"I'm coming," he replied, his voice lethal. "And I'm bringing the army."
It was time to show Damien that he hadn't just mistreated a maid; he had declared war on a Queen.
7.7
Silas Vane, a billionaire on the edge of ruin, needs his ex-wife's signature to save his tech empire-and June Ashby, his scorned orchard-owning ex, wants only one thing: to make him suffer.
The deal is brutal, simple, and non-negotiable: Silas must move back to their small hometown, trade his silk suits for calloused hands, and work the orchard harvest for six months. Worse? He has to play her doting husband for the press-fake marriage, real contract, no room for error.
What starts as a revenge-fueled game quickly spirals. As the sun dips below the orchard trees, old sparks reignite, and the line between fake and real blurs into something dangerous.
Silas came to town for a patent to save his empire. But he might just walk away with a broken contract-and a heart completely owned by the woman who set out to destroy him.
9.7
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."