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His Paid Substitute: The Fallen Heiress

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 705    |    Released on: Today at 11:26

pulled into the underground garage

eanor's wrist. He pulled he

se. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in harsh light. Scr

p. She walked to the bar and poured two glasses of i

ch. He took the water and downed it in three gulps. H

nd found the HBO script. He flipped to the cl

lead's character breakdown: New York old mo

his character was an exact replic

wasn't a coincidence. This indie script was notoriously written by one of Giselle's bitte

ust finished being Giselle's stand-in for Julian, and now she

ipped into the arrogant, neurotic persona

to the serial killer's dark mindset. He b

dripped with old-money disgust. She

e pressure. He spat his li

ving room felt electric. The

violence to break the woman. Tristan gra

Eleanor's feet, trying to sha

ep in the scene. His a

ood. A sharp shard bounced up and sliced str

ff of her white silk shirt. The bright red stain

ter. He saw the blood. All th

king as he yelled about calling an a

stomach

rrifying secret. Rapid

in seconds, he would think she was a monster. Worse

around. She turned her back to him and pres

ch violently. The cells were splitting and fusing at a terrifyin

as practically crying, begging her to let him s

nizing sec

ted skin remained raw, raised, and aggressively red, throbbing with

e her voice to sound weak; the intense metabolic drain

r left hand to tightly grip her bloody right sleeve, desperat

miled weakly. "It

osion just now was perfect. Do not lose th

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His Paid Substitute: The Fallen Heiress
His Paid Substitute: The Fallen Heiress
“When the private elevator pinged. That was the moment Eleanor's two-and-a-half years as a billionaire's perfect fake girlfriend abruptly ended. Julian was terminating her services early because his real first love was moving into the penthouse tomorrow. His assistant stood by the marble counter, bracing for a screaming match. He handed over a brutal non-disclosure agreement. He slid a five-million-dollar check across the table, fully expecting her to cry, beg, or throw the money back in his face. "Miss Palmer... Giselle is moving in tomorrow," he warned. Instead, Eleanor calmly borrowed his Montblanc pen, signed her name three times without hesitation, and slipped the money into her planner. "Congratulations to Mr. Caldwell-Prentice on finally getting what he wants," she smiled flawlessly. They all thought she was just a high-end, emotionless mercenary who felt absolutely nothing for the men she served. They didn't know she was actually Cara Love, the last surviving heir of the ruined Love Foundation, living under a fake name to avenge her dead father. For years, she swallowed her burning hatred, playing the perfect emotional substitute to buy dark web intel and hide her unnatural, rapid-healing body from a ruthless medical syndicate. But now, a tech billionaire client had just uncovered her true identity, and her burner phone flashed with a terrifying emergency alert. The syndicate had found her. Eleanor grabbed her suitcase and ordered the private jet back to New York. The facade was over; it was time to face the deadly storm.”
1 Chapter 12 Chapter 23 Chapter 34 Chapter 45 Chapter 56 Chapter 67 Chapter 78 Chapter 89 Chapter 910 Chapter 1011 Chapter 1112 Chapter 1213 Chapter 1314 Chapter 1415 Chapter 1516 Chapter 1617 Chapter 1718 Chapter 1819 Chapter 1920 Chapter 2021 Chapter 2122 Chapter 2223 Chapter 2324 Chapter 2425 Chapter 2526 Chapter 2627 Chapter 2728 Chapter 2829 Chapter 2930 Chapter 30