My Cheating Boyfriend Tried To Sell Me To Thugs — So I Stole A Billionaire’s Identity To Destroy Him
Part 1
Shaking violently, my hands fumbled with the keys to the cramped apartment I paid for entirely by myself.
For six straight months, double shifts at the diner had consumed my life just to afford that vintage watch.
Aching inside my worn-out sneakers, my feet dragged against the narrow hallway’s cheap linoleum.
Before I even took off my winter coat, the overwhelming stench of cheap floral perfume assaulted my senses.
Hoping for the best, I simply assumed he was getting ready for our long-awaited anniversary dinner date.
Through the partially open bedroom door, the unmistakable sound of muffled giggling drifted into the silent living room.
Freezing in my tracks, I felt the blood rapidly drain from my face.
Pounding like a heavy drum, my pulse drowned out all other noise in the tiny apartment.
With a violently trembling hand, I pushed the slightly ajar door all the way open.
Tangled up in our unmade bedsheets, Tyler was laughing loudly with a blonde woman I didn’t recognize at all.
Slipping helplessly from my numb fingers, the expensive velvet watch box fell straight to the ground.
Striking the wooden floorboards, it landed with a dull, echoing thud that completely ruined the mood in the room.
Instead of flinching or offering an apology, Tyler didn’t even attempt to cover his bare chest.
Reaching over with terrifying casualness, he simply pulled the thin blanket up to his waist.
While lazily adjusting her messy hair, the blonde woman actually smirked right at my devastated expression.
Without an ounce of shame or regret, Tyler pointed a lazy finger directly toward the apartment exit.
Packing my garbage bags and getting out of his house was the only option he coldly offered.
Clenching my fists with pure rage, I let my fingernails dig incredibly deep into my sweaty palms.
Through gritted teeth, I desperately reminded him that my name was the only one on the official lease agreement.
Between the electricity and the rising water bill, I was the only person actively keeping the lights on.
Letting out a sharp, cruel laugh, he openly mocked my pathetic attempt to claim any sort of ownership.
Rubbing his unshaven jaw, he casually mentioned that the monthly rent money had vanished at the poker tables.
According to his sickeningly calm explanation, the landlord had already posted a formal eviction notice that morning.
Crashing down on me all at once, the sheer weight of his absolute betrayal tightened my chest until I couldn’t breathe.
Because of that stupid luxury watch, my entire meager savings account was completely and utterly drained.
Before I could even scream at him, heavy footsteps thundered up the wooden stairs outside.
The front door banged open so hard the wooden frame splintered into pieces.
Three massive men wearing stained leather jackets forced their way into the living room.
The leader cracked his bruised knuckles with a sickening pop.
He aggressively demanded the fifty grand Tyler owed his boss.
Tyler scrambled out of the bed and hastily threw on his pants.
He pointed a trembling, cowardly finger directly at me.
He told the massive men they could take me as collateral for the debt.
My stomach dropped straight into my shoes.
The leader stepped toward me with a twisted, yellow-toothed grin.
He grabbed my wrist with a grip like a rusty steel vise.
I kicked hard at his shins and screamed for anyone in the building to help.
Tyler simply leaned against the bedroom doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.
He watched the thugs drag me toward the hallway without blinking.
A deep, commanding voice suddenly cut through the violent chaos.
A man in a flawlessly tailored charcoal suit stepped into the ruined doorway.
He didn’t yell or raise his voice at the thugs.
The ambient temperature in the room just seemed to instantly drop ten degrees.
He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the cheap coffee table.
The thud of banded cash echoed loudly in the small space.
The lead thug immediately dropped my wrist and lunged for the money.
The intruders counted the crisp bills and shoved past the stranger without another word.
The man casually adjusted his pristine platinum cufflinks.
He turned his piercing, icy gray gaze directly to me.
He introduced himself to me as Craig Montgomery.
He casually mentioned he happened to own the holding company that managed this entire city block.
Craig pulled out his checkbook and wrote a massively terrifying number.
He offered to buy the apartment building right then and let me live there for free.
Tyler pushed past me with visible dollar signs reflecting in his greedy eyes.
He tried to aggressively shake Craig’s hand to somehow get in on the action.
Craig flicked two fingers toward the dark hallway.
Two massive bodyguards in black suits instantly materialized from the shadows.
They grabbed Tyler by his belt and dragged him kicking and screaming down the stairs.
Craig turned back to me with a highly calculating stare.
He pulled a glossy eight-by-ten photograph from his inside jacket pocket.
He held it up to the harsh overhead light for me to see.
The wealthy woman in the picture had my exact face.
She shared my sharp jawline, my dark eyes, and my exact nose.
Craig explained her name was Brenda Kensington.
She was the sole missing heiress to a massive global corporate empire.
She had vanished without a single trace exactly three years ago.
If I agreed to impersonate her, he would pay me enough cash to ruin my ex completely.
He urgently needed me to fool her vicious, calculating sister, Heather.
The ruse would stabilize a crucial corporate merger his nephew was managing.
I stared at the photograph for a long, quiet minute.
I had absolutely nothing left in this apartment except bad memories.
I looked Craig dead in the eyes and accepted the dangerous deal.
The next few days blurred into an endless marathon of posture lessons and corporate briefings.
I learned to glide gracefully in four-inch stilettos without breaking my stride.
Craig taught me how to completely freeze a hostile board member with a single unblinking look.
The ultimate test of my training was the annual Kensington shareholder gala.
I stepped out of the black limousine into a blinding sea of flashing camera bulbs.
Heather stood waiting at the top of the grand marble staircase.
Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits the second she spotted me.
She didn’t offer a hug or a polite welcome to her supposed sister.
She aggressively snatched a microphone from the podium near the entrance.
Heather stepped up to the microphone, her eyes locked on mine as she announced to the silent ballroom that she knew exactly how to prove I was a fraud.
