Romans & histoires Faking Ms Right

I am sure he will kill her if he reaches before you* R-18 frantically tapped some buttons to pull out the footage. He saw Sia sitting on the floor in the workroom. *What the hell is wrong with her? I thought I could work in peace since she is injured. This girl was such a trouble maker!* Then he used MDS (Member Detecting System) to track F-20. He was still in the assembly room. It would take him 5 minutes to reach the workroom. As expected, he had the AS strapped on his wrist, as if he needed that to kill a simple human. R-18 ran towards the workroom shaking his head.

Water therapy. My hair almost flew when a pile of papers was placed on my table by someone. I turned my head and saw Ms. Helena. My lips parted unconsciously. She raised an eyebrow. "I need those, until tomorrow." She smiled fake and left my table. I looked at the papers and the biscuit that was in my hands. I could do nothing but lower the food and start stacking the papers on my table.

I can’t let that happen. “Wait,” Christina interjects, her expression shifting into one of concern. “You need to understand the implications of what you’re proposing. If the government discovers this is a fake marriage, the consequences could be severe.” Mr Lund sits frozen, mouth half-open, looking between Christina and me like I’ve just suggested we rob a bank. I can’t help but grin at the absurdity of it all, but I know the reality is far from funny. “Of course,” I say, waving my hand dismissively, already trying to ignore the fact that he is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s just a formality. We’ll be living together, after all we will be husband and wife.”

He had to rush back to livestream with his side chick! [Scumbag! He spends 240,000 dollars a day on a mistress while his girlfriend earned 130,000dollars over five years and handed it all to him!] Trending videos multiplied. Marketing accounts piled on. Anya's entire profile was unearthed and exposed piece by piece.

“Kill me now. I’m surrounded by people who think 'spontaneity' is choosing a different brand of sparkling water. I need you.” I waited, the blue bubble of my own text staring back at me. A second later, the dots appeared. “Lila:Are you wearing the blazer? Please tell me you’re wearing the blazer. I’m currently covered in charcoal and eating cold pizza. Want me to send a distraction? I could call in a fake fire drill.” A small, genuine smile cracked my mask. I started typing back, my thumbs moving fast, desperate to hold onto the "unpredictable" energy she radiated even through a screen.

"We feed them something else." "Feed them what?" "A false positive," I say. "We give them a stream of data that shows a decline. A degradation. A terminal failure." Liam looks up, his eyes widening. "You want to fake a miscarriage?" "I want them to think the asset is dead," I say. "If the product is 'lost,' they’ll stop the program. They’ll pull the resources. And then, we vanish." "Aiden, you can't fake that. They have doctors. They have labs."

Is this real? ******************************************

Maxima Davenport didn’t know it yet, but she’d just become the answer to his desperate request, the perfect pretender… She was about to become his perfect fake “Mrs. Right”.

’ I glanced at the paper, and what I saw written on it got me outraged. ‘I didn’t apply for the position of a cleaner, Mr Woodson,’ I slammed the paper back on his desk. ‘If only you’d have a look at my résumé…’ ‘There aren’t any vacant positions in this firm!’ He replied sternly. ‘Except for the cleaning job.’ ‘I saw an ad online that this firm wanted a resource manager…’’ But he didn’t appear to be listening to me anymore. Instead, he went back to his computer, directing all his attention there.

I continued, "You two are the masked puppeteers, plotting, deceiving, and trampling genuine emotions underfoot." My voice wasn't loud, but my declarations landed like sledgehammers on Jessica's conscience and those smug faces who had mocked me. "That's nonsense!" Mark shrieked, desperate to deflect the accusation while jabbing an accusatory digit at me. "Your old man's lousy ring. For all we know, it's counterfeit. Explains why Ms. Lane disowned you. You're nothing but a discarded..." A resounding slap cut off his vitriolic tirade.