Flashy Synonym Novels & Stories

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub. Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits. In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!" Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news." She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin." Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves." Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?" Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it." Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages." "Boss lady?" My stomach churned. My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover. I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

I've just finished collecting rent from a building when Mom calls me on the phone. She tells me that the Jensens' estranged real heiress, Sienna Jensen, has finally reunited with them. I pack up my account ledgers immediately before heading over to attend Sienna's welcome home party. But as soon as I reach the gate, my car is stopped right outside. Apparently, I'm not allowed entry into the Jensen residence. Hatred crosses Sienna's eyes when she spots my car. "You're nothing but a thieving impostor! How dare you make a flashy appearance while driving a car that belongs to my family!" I take a deep breath and explain coolly, "This is my car. I don't know what you're talking about." The next thing I know, Sienna grabs a ledger and hurls it at my face. She screams at me, "You used my family's money to buy this car, and yet you have the gall to claim that it's yours? "I'm my mother's actual child, and yet you've leeched all the good things from my family, you filthy bitch! I'll have you know that the hardships that Mom went through for nine months of pregnancy will be converted into a maternity fee of a million dollars! Now hurry up and transfer the payment to Mom's bank account!" I merely sneer at Sienna before pulling out my phone and calling her mother, Molly Dawson, "Your daughter demands that I give you a million dollars' worth of maternity fees. Do you even have the guts to accept the payment?"

During the Thanksgiving holiday, my mother-in-law Mary came to visit us from Ohio. I took her to my husband Liam's new spa in Manhattan, Apropos. We enjoyed a basic facial treatment together, which I had purchased for $9.90 on an e-commerce platform. Right after the treatment, the beautician slapped a high-priced package down in front of us. She glanced at us contemptuously and said: "Do you really think you can enjoy our premium services with a $9.90 coupon?Stop kidding. You two look like you’re here to freeload. A single facial here costs thousands of dollars. This isn’t some free trial for cheapskates like you." I suppressed my anger and said coldly: “We have already paid for the basic treatment. How can you call this taking advantage for free?. Go get your manager.” A flashy woman walked over. Her arms were crossed. She looked down her nose at us. “I’m the Boss lady of this place.You and this old hag are just trying to get something for free, aren’t you? Let me be clear. You're buying this five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment today. Or you're not walking out that door.” A five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment? So this was it. This was why Liam suddenly got into the beauty industry. He didn't open a spa. He opened a scam shop to bankroll his mistress. I was about to call Liam, but she beat me to it, dialing a number. “Darling, you need to get down to the spa, right now. I've got a couple of hicks from the sticks making a scene, trying to get free services!”

I'm Jax Ryder, heir to the most powerful investment group in Veridian City. I had just returned from studying abroad. My father, worried I might impulsively marry the wrong woman, arranged a marriage for me with Everly, the heiress to the up-and-coming Sinclair Group. It was strictly a business arrangement. But that didn't mean I intended to just go through the motions. At the very least, I had to personally bid on the mansion that would serve as our marital home. And so, I found myself at the annual Starlight Charity Gala. When the legendary prime real estate, the "Siren's Cove Estate," was presented as the final auction item, I raised my paddle. Just as the gavel was about to fall, an arrogant voice cut through the room. "What right does a nobody like you have to bid? Step aside." The grand hall fell silent, the only sound the frantic clicking of camera shutters from all corners. I turned my head. A man in a flashy, sequined suit stood there. He swirled the champagne in his glass, his posture reeking of arrogance. Before I could even speak, the auctioneer brought the gavel down. "Sold! Congratulations to Mr. Brian Vance on winning the 'Siren's Cove Estate'!" I frowned, a flicker of anger rising within me. "The bidding wasn't over." "That's against the rules." Brian sneered. He looked me up and down, his eyes filled with contempt. "The rules?" He curled his lip. "Listen up. I'm Everly Sinclair's favorite stepbrother. In Veridian City, what I say goes." I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. This was interesting. My fiancée's stepbrother. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. "Everly, your dear brother just snatched the marital home I'd picked out. What are you going to do about it?"

As the reigning eight-time champion of the transmigration department, I'm deeply traumatized by the idea of having fight with the fake heiress. Unfortunately, not only is there an 18-year-old fake heiress in my family of this world, but she also has eight older siblings who dote on her endlessly. Seriously, the stereotypical real versus fake heiress plot is driving me crazy. I retreat into the depths of my mom's womb immediately, my tiny hands clamping down on the umbilical cord. My refusal to leave my mom's body is absolute. [Those idiotic brothers of mine keep spoiling that 18-year-old extremely childish fake heiress who insists on sitting in a baby trolley all the time! If I were to leave this place, I'd definitely get assassinated by them!] My mom, who can hear my internal thoughts, is forced to suffer due to the complications in her labor for 72 hours straight. Finally, she yields to me by signing the "Zero-Tolerance Treaty on Unequal Treatment". She also assigns 108 bodyguards to me overnight. Satisfied, I finally release my hold on the umbilical cord and make my flashy entrance to this world. Mom taps me on my forehead. "Natalie is extremely pure and innocent. She would never come up with ways to hurt you." On the first day I go home, Natalie Fairchild, the fake heiress, pushes my crib toward the staircase on purpose. "I wanna see if Nev can fly!" A bodyguard instantly reaches out to catch my crib from coursing through the air. Scared out of her wits, Natalie slumps to the floor immediately. There, she starts crying like a baby. My second brother, Elliot Fairchild, pulls her into his arms lovingly. He says reassuringly, "Don't be scared, Nat. The bodyguard must have frightened you because of his actions, right? Now, now, you can stop crying now. Nev is fine, isn't she?" The next thing he knows, he gets tossed into the heavy downpour by another bodyguard.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.