Married To The Fake Mad Billionaire

The yellow cab smelled like stale smoke and wet dog.

Francisqui sat in the back seat, staring at the crumpled check in her hand. The cab pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Owen Estate in Long Island.

She paid the driver and stepped out into the morning drizzle. The security guard at the gate booth took one look at her oversized men's shirt and bare feet. His lip curled in disgust before he hit the button to open the gate.

Francisqui pushed open the heavy oak front doors.

"And this is the grand foyer!" Kaleigh's voice echoed off the marble walls.

Kaleigh Owen stood in the center of the room, holding her phone on a ring-light tripod. She wore a custom Chanel dress. She was live-streaming to her million followers.

Francisqui walked right into the frame.

Kaleigh shrieked. She dropped her hand from her hair and covered her mouth. The live chat on the screen exploded with comments. Who is that homeless person? Omg is she wearing a men's shirt?

Kaleigh lunged forward and hit the end broadcast button. Her face twisted into an ugly snarl.

"You stupid mute!" Kaleigh screamed. "You just ruined my engagement rate!"

Francisqui didn't blink. She walked past her, heading for the stairs.

Kaleigh sneered, turning her phone camera back on for a fleeting second. "Oh my god, look at this, guys. Did a homeless person wander in? We seriously need to upgrade the estate security." She casually tipped her glass of detox water, letting the icy liquid splash directly onto Francisqui's bare feet. "Oops. Slippery."

"Where have you been?" Kaleigh mocked, her voice dripping with venomous superiority. "Dad has been looking for you all night, you absolute embarrassment!"

Bile rose in Francisqui's throat. She stepped over the puddle of water, her cold, dead eyes locking onto Kaleigh's.

Kaleigh instinctively took a step back, intimidated by the sheer emptiness in Francisqui's gaze, but she quickly recovered and wailed at the top of her lungs. "Mom! Dad! She's attacking me!"

The doors to the study flew open. Franklin and Eleanor Owen rushed out.

Eleanor ran to Kaleigh, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Oh my god, is she having another episode?"

Franklin stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He adjusted his expensive cuffs. He looked at Francisqui with pure hatred. "Where were you? Mr. Grossman waited at the restaurant for three hours."

Francisqui pulled her phone from her pocket. Her thumbs moved with mechanical speed. She pressed the text-to-speech button.

"I was bitten by a dog," the robotic Siri voice announced.

Kaleigh laughed from her mother's arms. "What kind of dog leaves you in a men's dress shirt? You were out with some trashy guy."

Francisqui's jaw tightened. She tapped her screen again. She pulled up a scanned photograph. She turned the phone around and shoved it in Kaleigh's face.

It was a picture from twenty years ago. Eleanor, sitting on a wealthy man's lap at a shady underground casino, wearing a cocktail waitress uniform.

Kaleigh's face went completely white. She didn't dare physically touch Francisqui, but her voice trembled with fear and venom. "Give me that!"

Francisqui stepped back, slipping the phone into her pocket.

Eleanor screamed. "Security! Get her out of here! She's insane!"

Franklin saw the photo. The veins in his neck bulged. He cared about one thing: the family stock price. A scandal would ruin him.

"Enough!" Franklin roared. "Take the mute to her room. Lock the door. She doesn't come out until I say so."

Two estate guards grabbed Francisqui by the shoulders. She didn't fight them. She let them drag her up the stairs.

She looked down at Kaleigh. Francisqui mouthed three words.

Social. Climber. Trash.

Kaleigh let out a piercing, theatrical shriek, collapsing onto the marble floor in a fake swoon to draw her mother's attention away from the humiliation and play the ultimate victim.

The guards shoved Francisqui into the tiny attic bedroom and locked the deadbolt from the outside.

Francisqui stood in the center of the dusty room. She reached into the pocket of the damp silk shirt and pulled out the five-million-dollar check.

Her lips curved into a cold smile. She walked over to the loose floorboard under her bed. She pulled out her dead mother's diary. She placed the check flat between the yellowed pages and closed it.