Sorry, I'm Just a Fake Heiress Here for the Money

I'm an orphan too broke to even cover my own college tuition. But I happen to have the exact same face as Cassandra Ashford, heiress to one of the richest families in the city! The young lady sitting across from me, the one wearing my face, slapped a bank card down on the table. "Sixty grand for living expenses. Another three hundred thousand once the job's done." She wanted me to take her place at a business school. The goal: to blow up her arranged marriage to her fiance, Julian Sinclair. Cassandra said she hadn't laid eyes on the guy since she was seven, so I could go ahead without a worry. She was off to chase true love. I thought about the old director lying gravely ill in the hospital, and the orphanage that was one bad month away from shutting down. I said yes without a second's hesitation. What I never saw coming was the first day of school. Riding my rented city bike, I plowed straight into the car of the guy showing up to enroll on the same day: Julian Sinclair. The window rolled down, revealing a face so gorgeous it should have been illegal. Julian stared at my face and let out a cold scoff. "Cassandra." "Haven't seen you in over a decade, and you've already learned to fake a fender-bender for cash?" Chapter 1 Hadn't she said they hadn't seen each other since they were seven?! So how did he take one look at my faded, washed-out T-shirt and instantly spot a rich-girl pedigree I absolutely did not have? "You've got the wrong person," I tried to bluff. "Wrong person? I'd know you even if you were reduced to ashes." Julian got out of the car and fixed his eyes on me. "This car's a global limited edition. The repaint alone is three hundred grand." "Venmo or Zelle?" Three hundred grand? Those three words hit me like a bolt from the blue. My voice cracked on the spot. "Is this car made of solid gold, or did you blend diamond dust into the paint?!" "For three hundred grand I could fly to Thailand, get a whole new face, and launch a modeling career. And you're telling me that's a paint job?" Julian raised an eyebrow slightly, apparently not expecting his supposedly prim and proper fiancee to come out with something so savage. Deep in his eyes, something rare flickered: curiosity. "Don't give me that nonsense." I steeled myself and let my brain take a bizarre turn. "Your car was parked in the bike lane. That's an illegal stop, which puts you at fault first." "As a law-abiding citizen, I was obstructed by your illegally parked car." "I haven't even billed you for emotional damages, and you've got the nerve to shake me down?" Julian froze. He'd probably never in his life met someone who could talk this much garbage. "Cassandra, did you lose your memory, or did somebody swap out your brain?" He scoffed and pulled out his phone. "Fine. Since you won't own up to it, I'll just call your father." "I'll ask Mr. Ashford whether his precious daughter scratched someone's car and is now trying to weasel out of it." "No, no, no!" I dropped into a knee-slide and lunged, throwing my arms around his leg. One phone call and my cover would be blown instantly. Forget the three-hundred-grand balance. I might be facing fraud charges. "Come on! Let's talk this out!" "We're all young people here. No need to go running to the parents over every little thing." I clung to the leg of his tailored suit for dear life. "Whatever number you want, we can work it out. Everything's negotiable, even a payment plan!" Julian tried to shake his leg free in disgust, only to find I was hanging on like a koala. "Let go!" "No way! Promise you won't tattle first!" "You let go of my pants first, they're coming down!" Only then did I reluctantly release him, wiping my sweaty palms on his outrageously expensive trouser leg on the way. Julian took a deep breath, like he was fighting the urge to execute me on the spot. "Three hundred grand. Not a cent less." "But I'm broke." I spread my hands, totally shameless. "The great Ashford heiress, broke?" "My family went bankrupt. My dad ran off and gambled it all away in Vegas, and now I'm flat broke." The lies rolled right off my tongue. Julian stared at me for a solid three seconds. "Fine. There's a way to pay even when you're broke." "As of today, you're my personal assistant." "You'll handle every errand and chore in my life. Fifteen grand a month, docked straight against the repair bill." "Until the whole three hundred grand is paid off." Chapter 2 My eyes lit up instantly. Fifteen grand a month! "Room and board included?" I blurted. Julian looked at me like I was an alien. "Included." "Full benefits? Health, dental, 401(k)?" "...Yes." "Weekends off? Triple pay on public holidays?" Julian ground his teeth. "Don't push your luck!" I pursed my lips. "No need to bark. I'll do it." "Good." "Now, assistant, go wash my car." My eyes went wide. "Wash the car? You want me to hand-wash a Maybach?" "Got a problem with that?" "It'll cost extra." I held out my hand. Julian took a deep breath, pulled a bill from his wallet, and slapped it into my palm. "Here. Buy yourself a couple of decent sponges." I looked at the thirty dollars in my hand and broke into a grin. "You got it, boss! I'll get her so shiny a fly would do the splits and break a hip sliding off!" On the first day of school, I proudly became a paid car-washer. Julian sat on a bench beside the tree-lined campus path, sunglasses on, sipping an iced americano. His eyes were hidden behind the shades, but I could have sworn his gaze was glued to me the whole time. And me? In my ripped jeans, hose and sponge in hand, I scrubbed away at the Maybach's rims, grunting with the effort. Passersby kept shooting me shocked looks. "Isn't that Mr. Sinclair? Why's he making a girl wash his car?" "Shh, that's his fiancee, the Ashford heiress." "Do rich people get off on this kind of thing these days? An heiress washing a car?" I tuned them all out. My head was full of nothing but my paycheck. Fifteen grand a month. That's five hundred a day. And one car wash nets me an extra thirty on the side. Beats waiting tables at a fast-food joint, right? "Hey, scrub like you mean it. Didn't you eat?" Julian barked orders from a ways off. "Boss, wire me another twenty for snacks to boost my stamina, and I'll buff the car to a moon-surface shine." Julian's mouth twitched, at a loss for words. Just then, a girl in Chanel couture and four-inch heels came sashaying over. "Juuulian, what are you doing sitting all the way over here?" The girl's voice was pitched high and dripping with syrup, so sweet it made my hand jerk and drop the sponge. "Bianca." Julian gave a lukewarm nod. Bianca plopped down next to Julian without asking, then her gaze swiveled over to me. "Oh my god, isn't that you, Cassandra? Why are you dressed like such a charity case, washing a car?" "Julian, aren't you going to do something? If Mr. Ashford found out, imagine how heartbroken he'd be." I picked the sponge back up and squeezed out a handful of water. "He's not heartbroken. I work, and I'm happy." That shut Bianca up for a second. Then her eyes rolled and she pulled out a few crisp bills. "Cassandra, since you're so into doing servant work now." "I'm thirsty, actually. Go to the Starbucks across the street and get me an iced black-currant refresher." "Keep the change. Consider it your tip." This was a naked insult. By the standard script, I was supposed to tear up, bite my lip in humiliation, and then Julian would swoop in to save the day. But who am I? I'm not an ordinary person. Chapter 3 I snatched those bills right out of her hand and held them up to the sunlight to check they were real. "A hundred bucks, right?" I briskly stuffed the money into my pocket. "Errand fee, twenty. Heat-hazard pay, twenty. Personal-shopper surcharge, twenty." "The coffee's fifteen. Here's your twenty-five in change." I pulled out my phone. "Venmo or cash?" Bianca's eyes went huge, like she was seeing a ghost. "Cassandra, are you insane?! Since when did you get this cheap and grubby?!" "I work for a living, and I'm proud of it." As I said it, I turned to Julian. "Boss, I'm requesting ten minutes off to run this errand. It counts as my legal break, so you won't dock my pay, right?" Julian looked at me, his sunglasses slipping down to the bridge of his nose. He lifted his coffee to hide the corners of his mouth, which were climbing wildly. "...Go." Ten minutes later, I came back with an iced black-currant refresher. "Your drink, Miss. Enjoy." I set the cup down in front of Bianca. Bianca scoffed, picked up the cup, and took one sip. "Pfft!" She spat it right back out. "What is this?! It's room temperature! I asked for ice!" "Sorry, the sun was brutal on the way back. The ice melted." Not a flicker on my face. "You did that on purpose!" Bianca shot to her feet, grabbed the cup, and made to fling it in my face. I whipped out the little plastic payment-alert speaker I carry everywhere and held it up like a shield in front of my face. "Splash!" The purple-red liquid drenched the speaker and my T-shirt. Bianca smiled smugly. "Oops, my hand slipped. You okay, Cassandra?" Julian's expression darkened in a flash, a chill surging into his eyes. He had already started to rise, one long leg stepping forward. But I beat him to it, grabbing the towel off my neck to wipe my face, then opening the calculator on my phone. "Beep, beep!" "Designer hand-stitched T-shirt, ruined. Fifteen hundred." "Severe emotional trauma. Six thousand." "Advance on medical costs for premeditated assault. One thousand." "Grand total: eight thousand five hundred dollars even." I shoved the payment QR code right up under Bianca's nose. "So, Miss Ross, are you scanning this yourself, or should I call the cops right now and report you for disorderly conduct in public?" Bianca was completely dumbstruck. "Fifteen hundred for that ratty shirt? You're extorting me!" "What, Miss Ross thinks the great Ashford heiress would wear flea-market junk that costs less than fifteen hundred?" I shot back, standing my ground. Seeing that I had the situation handled, Julian settled comfortably back into his seat. Watching me back Bianca into a corner, his shoulders started shaking hard. This dude is way too happy！ Bianca was so furious her face contorted with rage. She pointed at me, unable to get a word out for the longest time. "You... you're just shameless!" "Thanks for the compliment. Payment plans accepted, interest billed separately." I smiled and waggled my phone. "Or, you know, I wouldn't mind stringing up a banner right now that reads: 'Bianca Ross Bullies Classmate, Refuses to Pay Debts.'" Bianca stamped her foot hard. "Fine, I'll scan it! You just wait!" The Venmo alert chimed: eighty-five hundred dollars received. And I felt it deep in my bones: this body-double gig was a gold mine I could dig forever! After those eighty-five hundred bucks hit my account, I walked on air. That evening, Julian had a so-called "young high-society mixer." As his personal assistant, I naturally got dragged along. The venue was an obscenely luxurious private club on the south side of town. The moment the private-room door swung open, the air inside was thick with smoke, men and women lounging around in a ring. "Well, well, Julian's here." A rich kid with blond hair stood up, his eyes landing on me. "If it isn't the Ashford heiress. Heard you're Julian's assistant now?" "What, slumming it for the experience?" There was clear malice in his words, and the people around him snickered along. Julian sat down in the master seat on the sofa, legs crossed, saying nothing, like he wanted to see how I'd handle it. I scoffed inwardly but plastered a perfect, professional smile on my face. "Evening, gentlemen. Since you all know I'm the assistant, feel free to put me to work. Pouring drinks, fetching tea, whatever you need tonight." "Everything's clearly priced, of course. Honest rates, no tricks." The blond guy blinked, apparently not expecting me to be so cooperative. His eyes rolled, and he picked up a bottle of Louis XIII from the table, filling a glass to the brim. "Alright then. Since you're so hard up for cash." He pushed the glass in front of me, then pulled a wad of bills from his wallet and slapped it on the table. "Down this, and the three grand's yours." Julian, who'd been watching from the sidelines this whole time, narrowed his eyes, a cold aura rolling off him.. Chapter 4 The room went dead silent in an instant. Julian's expression finally shifted. His thin lips parted, a hint of displeasure lacing his words. "Marcus, that's going too—" "You bet!" I picked up the glass, my eyes locked dead on that three grand. Three grand! How many baskets of fries would I have to drop at KFC to earn three grand?! Under everyone's stunned stares, I tipped my head back and chugged it down in one go. The fiery liquid burned down my throat and into my stomach, and I forced down the urge to puke. I slammed the empty glass upside down on the table. "Thanks for the tip, boss!" I crammed that three grand into my pocket, terrified the money would magically grow wings and fly away. The blond guy just gaped. "You... you actually drank it?" "You paid, so of course I drank it." I wiped my mouth. "Got any more, boss? I feel like I could earn myself a down payment on a house." At that, the room fell utterly silent. Feeling like he'd lost face, the blond guy gritted his teeth and poured three more glasses. "Three glasses, nine grand!" My eyes instantly turned into dollar signs. Just as I reached for them, a big hand clamped down hard on my wrist and forcefully snatched the glass away. Julian's face was black as thunder, fury churning in his eyes. "Enough." He looked coldly at the blond guy. "Since when do you get to make a monkey out of my assistant?" The blond guy jumped. "Julian, we're all just having a little fun..." "And if she really drinks herself into the hospital, can you afford the bill?" Julian's voice went colder. The second I heard that, I wasn't having it. "Boss, don't cut off my income stream!" I wrenched free of Julian's hand and threw myself protectively over that nine grand. "I'm not scared of the hospital! As long as the medical bills get reimbursed, I'll drink him into bankruptcy!" Julian stared at me in disbelief, a vein throbbing at his temple. "Cassandra, is there anything in your head besides money?!" "What else would there be? You?" It flew out of my mouth. The air went suddenly still. The people around us sucked in a collective breath. Crap. My mouth got ahead of me. "I mean..." I scrambled to patch it up. "I'm not worthy of holding a refined gentleman like you in my head." Julian took a deep breath, his chest heaving. He suddenly seized my wrist and started hauling me straight out. "Outside. Now!" "Hey, hey, hey! My money! I haven't grabbed that nine grand yet!" I struggled with everything I had, twisting back to shout at the blond guy, "Marcus! Save it for me! I'll get your number, and we'll drink again next time!" Julian was so angry he stumbled a step, his grip tightening as he dragged me along even faster. He didn't stop until he'd stuffed me into the Maybach's passenger seat and the door slammed shut with a bang. He came around to the driver's seat, still wearing a look like he wanted to eat someone alive. "Have you gone completely money-crazy?" "Yep." I sat in the passenger seat, pulled the three grand out of my pocket, and carefully counted it. "One, two... yep, it's all here." Watching me act like such a money-grubber, Julian suddenly laughed in exasperation. "You're not Cassandra at all." My hands froze mid-count. I looked up and met his deep, dark eyes. "Cassandra is allergic to seafood, but you devoured that lobster like you were terrified you wouldn't get a single bite in your next life." "Cassandra has studied ballet since childhood. She walks with a natural turnout, not bouncing around like a manic rabbit the way you do." His amused gaze swept over me, thick with playful scrutiny. "Tell me. What exactly is your purpose here?" A cold sweat broke out across my back as he spoke. "I—my allergies are completely cured!" I stammered, frantically scrambling for an excuse. "And I severely injured myself doing a ballet split, so I swore never to dance again! The way I walk now... is strictly for rehab!" His eyes darkened, the depths of his gaze swirling with a dangerous undercurrent. "I... I..." Under his suffocating aura, A voice suddenly flashed through my mind: [Ruin the wedding!] So, I puffed out my cheeks and huffed indignantly, "Fine, Julian! You're just disgusted by how much I've changed, aren't you? Then go back and tell your father to call off the engagement!" Julian looked at me, the amusement in his eyes deepening profoundly. "So this is your OWN wish... is it?"