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The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 496    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

a mausoleum of

off the red Porsche 911. It was her mother's favorite.

peering through the window.

down until she was sitting on the concr

tired,

le of water he'd snagged from the kitchen.

wart froze everything. 'Suspicious activity', the bank said. Everything except the one emergenc

my card,"

I needs the final payment or he wo

s grainy, taken from a CCTV camera three years ago. It sho

He was the reason she had left Ne

ighed. "Belle, maybe he d

"And then someone erased him from th

m taking the Jeep

are you

I can sell some of my old d

ming wi

d one of your contacts, a PI, anyone. I need to know if Kathern is moving mone

ted. "It's

said. She climbed into the Jeep

tate, her mind racing.

It was the Priva

plate on the car that picked up your mystery man? It's fake.

elle asked, gripping

es. It's going to co

ed. "Fine. Just...

ing her. She looked down at th

see the lig

k, black car stopped at

ust as the Jeep

RE

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The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend
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.”