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The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend Novel Cover

The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend

I returned to New York after three years in Paris, sick and broken, with nothing but a venomous vow to reclaim my life. I looked like a total disaster in my scuffed boots and ripped jeans, a far cry from the Stanton heiress I once was. On the flight home, a glossy magazine headline hit me like a physical blow: my half-sister Aryana was celebrating a fairytale engagement while wearing my dead mother's sapphire pendant. The necklace was my only legacy, stolen by the interlopers who had usurped my place the moment I vanished. Things spiraled into a nightmare before I even landed. I accidentally spilled milk all over a powerful billionaire, Denis Stephens, and then fainted directly into his arms during turbulence. At the hospital, my ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend mocked my illness, snapping photos of me looking like a "pregnant" mess to ruin my reputation. When I finally fought my way to the family manor to snatch the necklace back, my father tried to hit me, and my ex accused me of becoming a whore in Europe. I couldn't understand how my own father could freeze my bank accounts and treat me like a criminal while my sister played house with my mother's jewels. I was back in the orbit of the Manhattan elite, but I was a pariah with a target on my back and a body that was failing me. Then, the final blow came. I rear-ended a Bentley belonging to Denis Stephens-the same man I'd humiliated on the plane. With six figures in damages and zero dollars in my pocket, I was completely at his mercy. "You're going to be my date tonight," He commanded, pulling me into a high-stakes game of fake romance and cold revenge that I wasn't sure I'd survive.
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Chapter 3

Adan Hammond didn't wait for permission. He sprinted onto the plane, ignoring the protests of the ground crew. When he saw Belle slumped in the wheelchair, pale as a sheet, he swore loudly.

"What did they do to you?" he growled, scooping her up into his arms. She was lighter than he remembered.

"Home," Belle mumbled, her head lolling against his chest. "Just take me home."

"Not a chance. We're going to Lenox Hill."

The ambulance ride was a blur of sirens and potholes. Belle drifted in and out, the nausea rolling over her in waves. By the time they got her hooked up to an IV in the emergency room, she felt hollowed out.

Acute gastroenteritis. Dehydration. Exhaustion. The doctor's words floated in the air like dust motes.

Adan sat by the bed, looking like a guard dog ready to bite. "I'm going to get water," he said, squeezing her hand. "Don't move."

Belle closed her eyes. The saline drip was cold entering her vein.

She didn't hear the door open. She heard the clicking of heels.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. And then spit out."

Belle's eyes snapped open.

Flo Nichols stood at the foot of the bed. She was wearing a pink tweed Chanel suit that looked ridiculous in the sterile hospital room. Behind her were two girls Belle vaguely recognized from high school-her minions.

Flo held a fruit basket like a weapon. "We heard you were back. We didn't realize you were... indisposed."

One of the minions wrinkled her nose. " it smells like vomit in here. Is that you, Belle?"

"Get out," Belle croaked. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

Flo stepped closer, her smile widening. It didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, don't be rude. We came to support you. Word is you were throwing up all over First Class. Morning sickness?"

Belle tried to sit up, but her arms shook. "I have the flu, you idiot."

"Sure," Flo said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "That's what they all say. Jonas will be so disappointed. He always thought you were the 'pure' one."

Jonas. The name was a physical ache in Belle's chest.

"Don't say his name," Belle said.

"Why not?" Flo touched her own collarbone. She pulled the collar of her jacket aside slightly, revealing a fresh, dark purple bruise. A hickey. "He's mine now, Belle. We're shopping for engagement party outfits later. He's very... enthusiastic."

Belle stared at the mark. Bile rose in her throat again. Jonas, who had promised to wait. Jonas, who had written her letters for six months.

One of the minions held up a phone. Click. The flash blinded Belle.

"A souvenir," the girl giggled. "For the group chat."

"Hey!"

The roar came from the doorway. Adan dropped the water bottle. It hit the floor with a crack. He charged into the room, placing himself between Belle and the girls.

"Back off," Adan snarled. He looked ready to hit someone.

Flo took a step back, feigning terror. "Oh my god. Is this the father? He looks like a criminal."

"I said get out!" Adan yelled.

Flo adjusted her purse. "Fine. We were leaving anyway. This place is depressing." She looked at Belle over Adan's shoulder. "Welcome home, Belle. Try not to ruin everything this time."

They flounced out, heels clacking.

Adan turned to check on Belle. "Did they touch you?"

Belle shook her head. She was trembling, but not from sickness anymore. It was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

She looked toward the corner of the room where Adan had put her carry-on suitcase.

It was gone.

"Adan," she said sharply. "My bag."

Adan looked. The corner was empty.

"Those bitches," Adan hissed. He turned to run after them.

"No!" Belle ripped the IV tape off her hand. Pain flared, sharp and bright. Blood welled up, a red bead on her pale skin.

"Belle, what are you doing?" Adan grabbed her shoulders. "You need to finish the drip."

"They took it to check for 'evidence'," Belle said, sliding off the bed. Her legs wobbled, but she forced them to hold her weight. "They want to prove I'm pregnant to humiliate me. Let them look. There's nothing in there but dirty laundry."

She grabbed her leather jacket.

"We're not staying here," she said. Her eyes were dry, hard stones. "Take me to Stanton Manor. Now."

"You can barely stand," Adan argued.

"I don't need to stand," Belle said, walking toward the door, leaving a trail of blood drops from her hand. "I need to fight."

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