What Scams Does The Main Character Pull In 'King Con: A Novel'?

I ruined his jersey. And now he is ruining my life. Axel Wolfe, was the university's hockey king and a certified jerk, I don't really know what came over me that day, but I ruined his precious hockey jersey, spilling latte all over it, not only that I bruised his ego infront of his teammates and fans, and left as if I haven't done anything, the next morning he makes me his personal tutor just to mess with me then he ups the stakes… “Fake date me,” he says. He offered to help to piss off my ex, I should have said no, but I agreed thinking I was playing the game. Turns out, I’m the one being played.

Nicholas Hunt loves testing me a lot. When I just graduated from university, he tried to make me take on a five-million-dollar house mortgage. After I turned him down, Nicholas was quick to buy Yvonne Myers, the campus belle, a villa that was worth eight million dollars. It was even paid in full. As he held the property deed, he told me, "The truth is, I'm super rich. I've been pretending to be poor just so I can test your integrity. "It's a shame that you never passed my test. I'm very disappointed in you, Elizabeth. Let's break up." I just smiled at him casually. Then, I walked away without hesitation. What a coincidence. I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country. I, too, had been pretending to be poor. Four years later, we bump into each other at the Fortune List Summit. At that time, Nicholas has just squeezed into the top 50 rank. He walks into the venue with Yvonne clinging to his arm. It's then he notices me. I'm wearing plain-looking clothes without any jewelry adorning me, and I happen to be holding a child. Thinking that I'm a nanny, Nicholas begins mocking me. "Wow, you really went all out just to steal one more glance at me, huh? I can't believe you're able to follow me all the way here. "You should learn to accept reality, though. I'm on the Fortune List, while you're working as someone else's nanny. The gap between us is far too wide, so you should stop dreaming already!" I just ignore Nicholas in favor of resenting my dad for making me attend this stupid event. After all, I've just managed to block out one full day just to spend time with my son, and yet I have to waste my precious time on this dumb event.

The first time I meet Solana Charvet's childhood friend, Tyson Hatch, he claims that he's the best fraud buster ever. At the dining table, he keeps lecturing me. "Men shouldn't overdress, you know. If not for the fact that Solana actually told me that you're her boyfriend, I'd definitely group you up with the gigolos together." Solana keeps agreeing with everything Tyson says. "You're far too flashy when it comes to your fashion sense. Just listen to Tyson and change your habits, yeah?" I can't be bothered to listen to a word Tyson says, so I come up with an excuse to use the toilet. But on the way back, I hear Tyson giving Solana his verdict as a fraud buster. "Solana, Charles' posture and the way he speaks are all clear indicators that he's a fake heir who has undergone training. He intends to get close to you for your money, you know! "That watch he's wearing? And the sports car that's worth over a million dollars? How is it possible for a doctor like him to afford all these things?" Fury burns in my gut. I can no longer tolerate Tyson's nonsense, so I dial my mom's number right away. Right, have I mentioned that my mom's the richest woman in the country? "Mom, give me five million dollars right now. I want to buy an agency that specializes in fraud busting and teach a certain someone a lesson!"

Irina Volkov has three most important rules: no emotions, no real names, and never meet in person. For two years she has survived on those rules alone — running romance scams on wealthy men, funneling every stolen dollar toward the crushing debt her abusive stepfather signed in her name before she escaped. She is not greedy. She is desperate. And she is very, very good. Until she targets Nikolai Dragunov. What Irina doesn't know is that Nikolai has known about her from the beginning. He created the perfect bait — a lonely businessman with money to burn — and waited for her to find him. Because in a world Nikolai controls down to the last detail, Irina Volkov is the only unpredictable thing left. He wanted to see how far she would go. Now the game is over. The con is exposed. And Nikolai isn't asking for his money back. He's keeping her. Trapped in his penthouse with nowhere to run and a Bratva boss who looks at her like she's both a puzzle and a prize, Irina has to survive the most dangerous mark she's ever made — and somehow stop herself from falling for him in the process. She's a liar. He's a monster. And neither of them expected to fall. "You took my money, Malyshka. Now you belong to me."

When my boyfriend, Mark Jamison, gets in a car accident that leaves him paralyzed, I pawn the ring my mother left to me before she died to help him. With hands that have never been used to do any work or a single household chore in my life, I start lugging around delivery bags. In the middle of a rainstorm, I get assigned to deliver a food order worth 10,000 dollars, with a 100-dollar tip. Just as I happily celebrate my luck, I overhear the raucous laughter coming from inside the villa. "She actually believes you got paralyzed in a car accident? She now spends all day doing deliveries just to support you financially? She even sold off her dead mom's ring?" "She'd probably cry her heart out if she ever finds you're actually a wealthy scion worth tens of billions of dollars, who's just pretending to be poor!" Mark twirls the wineglass he's holding and says, "A lowly woman like her was born to wait on others. She brought it upon herself by always being better than Rosie back in school. Messing with her is the punishment she deserves." I continue to stand in the rain, tears rolling down my cheeks. This is how I find out Mark has spent the last two years faking his condition just to help his childhood sweetheart get back at me. His so-called paralyzed legs, deceased parents, and helpless tears are all just part of a meticulously executed lie. I haven't talked to my father, the richest man in town, for years. But now, I have finally decided to call him. "I lost, Dad. I'll accept the marriage alliance and marry the guy you picked for me."

The Lombardos' long-lost son turned out to be some "scam-busting" influencer. He stormed into the company with my fiancée, cut me off mid–quarterly report, pointed straight at me, and went live. "Drop a comment if you're watching. Blow this up. I'm exposing a fake heir who stole someone else's life!" His crew dragged me offstage, ripped my suit, and shoved me into a neon vest stamped with "FAKE." "A fake's always fake. Never real. I'm ripping off your mask. If you're smart, get on your knees, hand over the CEO seat, and get lost!" I glanced at his parents—faces drained—and gave him one warning. "You don't get to call me a fraud. For their sake, apologize now, and I'll let it go." The room buzzed. Everyone thought I'd snapped, waiting for the "fake heir" to crash and burn. They had no clue. I wasn't the fake. I was the one the whole family answered to.