A struggling actress takes an unusual job after being hired by a wealthy man’s mother to pose as his girlfriend and sabotage his upcoming wedding. But as she spends more time with him and his fiancée, she questions her actions and the price of her desperation. What will she choose?
Miranda stepped out of the dim audition room, her chest heavy with frustration. The casting director’s parting words, “You’re not interesting enough,” stung more than she wanted to admit.
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With her wallet almost empty, taking a taxi home wasn’t an option, so she trudged along the busy sidewalk, her thoughts clouded with doubt and discouragement.
As she neared a small corner store, a bulletin board tacked outside caught her eye. Among the cluttered ads and flyers, one stood out.
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She stepped closer to read the hastily written note: “Looking for a woman to pretend to be my son’s girlfriend. Will pay well.” Beneath the bold letters was a single phone number. No name, no explanation.
Miranda shook her head and chuckled to herself. “People are wild,” she muttered, brushing it off as she entered the store.
At the register, reality hit her hard. The little she could afford—pasta, cheese, and toilet paper—barely filled a small bag.
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The notice snagged her attention again as she was heading back. Staring at her meager groceries, she sighed, pulled out her phone, and dialed the number.
“Hello, I saw your ad—” Miranda began, gripping her phone tightly.
A sharp voice cut her off. “Meet me at 7:00 p.m. at Bella Luna. Dinner’s on me.”
Miranda blinked in surprise. “Wait, what—”
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The line went dead. She stared at her phone. No name. No details. Just instructions. It felt strange, but with her bills piling up, she didn’t have the luxury to ignore it.
At 7:00 p.m., Miranda entered the restaurant, her stomach fluttering. She scanned the room, unsure who she was meeting.
A middle-aged woman in a tailored suit approached her, her steps confident.
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“Are you the one who called about the ad?” the woman asked, her tone brisk.
“Yes, I’m Miranda,” she replied, offering a polite smile.
“Leslie,” the woman said, gesturing toward a nearby table. “Follow me.”
Once seated, Leslie leaned forward. “Do you have experience with this sort of thing?”
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Miranda hesitated. “Not exactly. I’ve never pretended to be someone’s girlfriend before,” she admitted. “But I’m an actress. I think I can do it.”
Leslie nodded, her expression unreadable. “Good enough,” she said. “Here’s the deal. My son is getting married in a month. I need you to make him fall for you and ruin the wedding.”
Miranda’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Your ad said to pretend to be his girlfriend. It didn’t say anything about ruining relationships.”
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“I’m not stupid enough to write that in an ad,” Leslie said, her voice sharp. “His fiancée isn’t good enough for him. She’s only after his money. You’d be helping him, really.”
Miranda pushed her chair back. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” she said, preparing to leave.
“Ten thousand,” Leslie said suddenly.
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“What?” Miranda froze.
“Ten thousand dollars if you break up the wedding. Two thousand if you try but fail. That should motivate you,” Leslie explained, her eyes fixed on Miranda.
Miranda’s breath caught. Ten thousand dollars. Two thousand, even. Her landlord’s threats echoed in her head. She needed the money.
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“Honey, I don’t have all day,” Leslie snapped.
Miranda swallowed hard. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good. But don’t slack off. If you do, you get nothing,” Leslie warned, extending her hand.
With a deep sigh, Miranda shook it.
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Leslie had it all mapped out, and Miranda followed the plan step by step. Leslie’s son, Jack, was hiring an assistant for his company, so Leslie helped Miranda put together an impressive résumé.
It was polished to perfection, making Miranda seem like the ideal candidate. Jack didn’t hesitate—she got the job almost immediately.
But getting the job was the easy part. The hard part was getting Jack to notice her.
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Miranda tried everything Leslie suggested. She wore short skirts and fitted blouses, hoping to catch his eye.
Yet, Jack seemed uninterested. His focus was always on work.
Frustrated, Miranda decided to try something different. She began staying late at the office, waiting for moments when it was just the two of them.
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One evening, Jack looked up from his desk and frowned. “You don’t have to stay just because I’m still here,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.
Miranda forced a smile. “I enjoy your company,” she replied, sitting across from him and pretending to organize files.
Over the next two weeks, something shifted. Jack began having longer conversations with Miranda, talking about his life, his goals, and even his favorite movies.
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Yet, the more time Miranda spent with Jack, the harder her task became. She had met Katie, his fiancée, the woman Leslie despised.
Katie wasn’t what Miranda expected. She was kind, thoughtful, and genuinely sweet.
She brought homemade cookies to the office, reminded Jack to eat, and calmed him with a soothing word when he was stressed.
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One day, Miranda watched as Katie laughed over an origami crane Jack had made for her.
The love between them was undeniable. Leslie’s claims about Katie being a gold-digger felt harder to believe.
Still, Miranda couldn’t back out. Her landlord had already warned her about overdue rent, and the clock was ticking. Desperation outweighed her growing guilt.
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One evening, as Miranda stayed late at the office with Jack, her phone buzzed. She sighed, seeing Leslie’s name on the screen. Reluctantly, she answered.
“What’s taking so long?” Leslie demanded. “The wedding is in a week, and he’s still with Katie!”
“I’m working on it,” Miranda replied quietly, glancing at Jack, who was seated nearby, engrossed in his laptop.
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“There’s no time left. You need to sleep with him,” Leslie snapped.
“What?! We never agreed to that!” Miranda exclaimed, her voice rising slightly.
“Then fake it,” Leslie said coldly. “Make it look like you did and send me photos. I’m done waiting.”
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Before Miranda could respond, the line went dead. She stared at the phone, her stomach twisting.
Slowly, she walked back to Jack and sat next to him on the couch, closer than she ever had before.
“Tired?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.
Jack glanced up briefly. “Yeah, a little,” he admitted.
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Miranda hesitated, then placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe we could go to a bar. Unwind a little?”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t. Katie made dinner. She’ll already be upset that I’m late.”
“Does it really matter?” Miranda asked, leaning in slightly. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
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Before Jack could respond, the elevator doors opened. Startled, Miranda pulled back. The sound of heels echoed as Katie appeared carrying two lunchboxes.
“I thought I’d bring dinner since you’re working late,” Katie said, smiling. She handed one box to Jack and turned to Miranda. “I brought some for you, too. You shouldn’t go hungry.”
Miranda stared at Katie, her heart sinking. Without thinking, she blurted, “I can’t do this anymore!”
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“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, confused.
Miranda took a deep breath. “I’m an actress. I was hired to ruin your wedding. Leslie wanted me to make you fall for me. I needed the money, so I said yes. I’m sorry.”
Jack and Katie listened in stunned silence.
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“I’m so sorry,” Miranda said again, her voice breaking. “I’m a horrible person.”
“No, you’re just someone in a desperate situation,” Katie said, taking Miranda’s hand.
Miranda shook her head. “Who are you? I just admitted I was trying to steal your fiancé, and you’re comforting me?”
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Katie smiled gently. “I know Jack loves me. You wouldn’t have succeeded.”
Jack frowned with a hard expression. “I don’t want my mom to get away with this. Will you help us?”
“It’s the least I can do,” Miranda agreed.
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They carried out Jack’s plan with careful precision. Fake photos of Miranda and Jack in intimate moments were sent to Leslie.
Her response came quickly—she was excited and praised Miranda, convinced the wedding was ruined.
Meanwhile, Miranda saved screenshots of Leslie’s incriminating messages, knowing they would be crucial.
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At Jack and Katie’s rehearsal dinner, Miranda stood before the gathered guests, her heart pounding.
One by one, the photos, the messages, and even the ad that had first brought her into their lives appeared on the screen.
The room fell silent, then erupted in hushed whispers. Guests exchanged shocked glances, their disbelief palpable.
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“This is all lies! I can explain!” Leslie shouted, her face red with anger.
Jack’s expression remained cold as he stepped forward. “Thanks, Mom, but Miranda already explained everything. We know the truth.”
Leslie’s voice rose in desperation. “I only wanted better for you! That woman doesn’t deserve you! She’s not good enough!”
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“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jack said firmly. “I’ll never forgive you for trying to ruin that. Now leave. Don’t come back into our lives.”
Leslie’s mouth opened to protest. “But—”
“Leave now,” Jack interrupted, his tone sharp. “Or I’ll call security.”
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Leslie’s face twisted in frustration. She grabbed her bag, muttering under her breath, and stormed out, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.
As the room settled, Miranda quietly gathered her things, preparing to slip out unnoticed. Jack noticed and stopped her. “Wait,” he said.
Miranda looked up, hesitant. “What is it?”
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“I spoke to a friend of mine. He has a role in a theater production. You’d be perfect for it,” Jack said.
Her face lit up briefly but quickly fell. “I can’t. I owe you too much already.”
“Stop,” Jack said firmly. “Actors like you are hard to find. You did spend a whole month pretending you enjoyed staying late at the office with me. And you’ll still get your paycheck for this month as my assistant.”
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Miranda shook her head. “I don’t deserve it. I nearly destroyed your lives.”
Katie stepped forward, her voice calm and kind. “If not for you, Leslie would still be trying to ruin our wedding.”
Miranda hesitated. Katie smiled and added, “Stay for dinner. You’re already here. I’ll be upset if you leave.”
Miranda’s eyes filled with gratitude as she hugged Katie tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.
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My Friend Didn’t Believe Her Husband Was Cheating, So I Set Up a Scene to Prove It
When her best friend refused to believe her husband was cheating on her, Nancy was determined to open her eyes. She set up a foolproof trap, but as the plan unfolded, Nancy was unprepared for the explosive consequences.
Alright everyone, Nancy here. Ever had that friend, the one who wears rose-colored glasses thicker than a disco ball? Yeah, that’s Melissa. Now, Melissa’s husband, Victor, is the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Picture perfect husband on the outside, but on the inside… well, let’s just say his loyalty roams free like a stray dog…
For the past year, whispers about Victor’s little “extracurricular activities” had been swirling around town like tumbleweeds in a dusty desert.
Pub crawls with “mystery women,” extra-long “work nights” that ended way too close to sunrise at that sketchy karaoke bar on Elm Street — the signs were all there, neon bright.
But Melissa? Bless her heart, she clung to the fantasy of their “perfect” marriage like a life raft in a hurricane.
At first, it was kind of cute. You know, the “ignorance is bliss” kind of thing.
But seeing Melissa walk on eggshells around Victor, making excuses for his shady behavior, it started to grate on me. The girl was practically begging to get her heart broken!
Enough was enough.
One gloomy Tuesday evening, armed with a bottle of the strongest wine I could find and a heart full of frustration, I marched over to Melissa’s house. You know that feeling when you just gotta lay it all out, consequences be damned? That’s exactly where I was at.
Melissa opened the door with a bright smile that faltered the second she saw my stormy expression.
“Hey Nancy,” she said. “What brings you here?”
I pushed past her, the wine bottle threatening to topple over in my trembling hand. “We need to talk,” I declared.
Melissa’s smile vanished completely, replaced by a flicker of worry. We settled down on the couch, and I launched into my spiel, laying out all the rumors, the suspicious disappearances, the way Victor’s eyes lingered a little too long on other women.
But Melissa wouldn’t budge and tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, Nancy,” she sniffled. “Victor would never do anything like that. He loves me.”
My frustration bubbled over. “Loves you?!” I practically shouted. “Love doesn’t involve sneaking around and hiding phone calls! Melissa, wake up and smell the coffee — or maybe the cheap perfume clinging to his clothes!”
That was the final straw. Melissa’s face hardened, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger. “This is my marriage, Nancy,” she snapped. “If you can’t be supportive, then maybe you should leave.”
My heart sank.
I hadn’t meant to drive a wedge between them, just to open her eyes. But clearly, logic wasn’t winning this battle.
Defeated, I grabbed my abandoned wine and shuffled out, the slam of the door echoing my failure in my ears.
Sitting alone in my apartment, I knew I couldn’t just leave Melissa like that, living in a fool’s paradise. But how could I break through the wall she’d built around her perfect little world?
An idea, crazy and impulsive, sparked in my mind. Maybe I could give Melissa the undeniable PROOF she needed.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and dialed Victor’s number. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before a smooth, familiar voice answered.
“Hey Nancy, this is unexpected,” Victor said, a hint of surprise lacing his tone.
Ugh, the nerve of this guy! I steeled myself, channeling my anger into a voice dripping with feigned flirtation.
“Hey Victor,” I purred, “Guess what? I got promoted! To celebrate, I’m thinking of having a little ‘get-together’ with a special friend this weekend. And guess who immediately popped into my head?”
Silence. I held my breath, willing him to take the bait.
“Well?” I pressed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Are you coming…?”
Then, a low chuckle traveled through the phone. My stomach clenched. “Well, Nancy,” Victor said, his voice smooth as silk, “I’m always up for a good time. Tell me more…”
The sound of Victor’s chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of disgust and a surge of morbid satisfaction. He’d taken the bait. Now came the tricky part.
“Actually,” I interjected, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of something a little more… discreet.” I could practically hear the question marks forming in his head. Perfect.
“Discreet, huh?” he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “What did you have in mind?”
I took a deep breath. This was it. “There’s this new upscale pub downtown,” I said, dropping the name of the very same pub he frequented with his “other women.” “Heard it’s got a private room, perfect for a little… celebration.”
A beat of silence followed. Then, a low whistle came through the phone. “Now that’s interesting, Nancy,” Victor said, his voice a touch huskier. “Are you sure about this? You know, Melissa…”
“Don’t worry about Melissa,” I cut him off. “She won’t know a thing… I promise. It’ll be just you and me.”
There was another pause, longer this time. My heart pounded in my chest. Was he suspicious? Had I blown the whole operation?
Finally, Victor spoke. “Alright, Nancy,” he purred. “You’ve convinced me. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be there… in your arms, darling.”
Relief washed over me so strong I almost dropped the phone. He’d agreed! My gamble had paid off. “Great!” I said, forcing a light tone. “I’ll text you the details later. Just make sure you come alone, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Victor chuckled. “See you then, babe.”
With that, the line went dead. I stared at the phone, elation and dread bubbling in my stomach. I’d set the trap, but now what? Would Melissa actually believe me? More importantly, would she be strong enough to face the truth, however ugly it might be?
With a mischievous grin, I fired off a text to Melissa, apologizing profusely for my outburst the other night.
“Ugh, Nancy,” she replied, her message dripping with annoyance. “Can we talk about this later? I’m swamped right now.”
I wasn’t about to give up. I bombarded her with messages, each one brimming with fake remorse and a desperate plea to meet for drinks.
“Come on, Mel,” I texted, “Let’s just grab a quick drink and clear the air. My treat! This Saturday. Please.”
Finally, on Friday afternoon, I received a one-word reply: “Fine.”
Victory! Saturday arrived. Today was the day I’d expose Victor for the lying, cheating weasel he was. I spent hours primping, slipping into the most elegant dress I could find.
Walking into the upscale pub, I felt completely out of my comfort zone.
As promised, Victor was already there, perched at the bar, nursing a drink on the rocks. His eyes lit up when he saw me.
“Nancy,” he exclaimed, a smooth smile gracing his lips, “you look absolutely… like a goddess.”
I plastered on a sheepish grin. “Thanks, Victor,” I purred, forcing down the wave of disgust rising in my throat. “Mind if I join you?”
He gestured to the empty stool beside him. We settled in, making awkward small talk as the bartender mixed me a drink. Victor kept stealing glances at me, a flicker of suspicion replacing his initial amusement.
“So,” he finally started, his voice laced with curiosity, “what’s with the sudden change of heart, Nancy? You’re usually not one for crowded bars or… well… me.”
Busted. I cleared my throat, mentally scrambling for a convincing story.
“Honestly, Victor,” I confessed, batting my eyelashes for effect, “I’ve been kicking myself ever since the dinner the other night. You were so kind, so attentive… it awakened something in me.”
Victor’s eyebrows shot up. This was it. Time to reel him in.
I leaned closer, “Maybe,” I said, my cheeks burning with shame, “I was a little afraid to act on my feelings before. But hey, life’s too short, right?”
A slow smile spread across Victor’s face. He scanned me from head to toe, his gaze lingering a little too long on certain curves. I felt a wave of nausea roll through me, but I pushed it down. This was all for Melissa.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my purse. A text from Melissa. My heart raced. “On my way,” it read
I quickly typed out a one-line reply: “Come straight to the bar.” Sliding my phone back into my purse, I took a deep breath.
Just then, the pub door swung open and Melissa walked in.
My cue. I threw my arms around Victor’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. “Kiss me, you fool!” I whispered dramatically.
Victor, clearly flustered, hesitated for a split second before returning the kiss. It was a clumsy, awkward peck, but it was enough. I pulled back, a triumphant smile lighting up my face..
“See, Melissa?” I declared, turning towards my friend.
“This is what I’ve been talking about! Your husband’s a complete jerk!”
The smile vanished from Melissa’s face, replaced by a mask of shock and sheer disbelief. Victor, however, sputtered to his feet, his face flushed crimson.
“Melissa, honey,” he stammered, “it’s not what it looks like! She’s the one who—”
“Don’t even try to lie your way out of this, Victor!” I cut him off, relishing the momentary power shift. “The jig is up!”
But before I could launch into a full-blown exposé, Victor whipped out his phone. A sickening feeling of dread crept into my stomach. He pressed a button, and a voice filled the air — my voice. Crystal clear, unmistakable.
“Hey Victor,” the voice purred, “guess what? I got promoted! To celebrate, I’m thinking of having a little ‘get-together’ with a special friend this weekend. And guess who immediately popped into my head?”
My blood ran cold.
The voice on the phone was mine, the exact words I’d used to set the trap. Victor had recorded our conversation. I was caught, my elaborate plan backfiring spectacularly.
“See, honey,” Victor finished, his voice dripping with false sincerity, “I told you she was the one coming on to me. I’m innocent. I just came here for a drink. It was all her.”
Melissa’s face contorted with anger and confusion. She looked between me and Victor, her gaze lingering on the phone in his hand. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.
“NANCY,” Melissa yelled, “is this… TRUE??”
My throat constricted. I wanted to scream, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.
The weight of my actions pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. Shame burned in my cheeks, hotter than any cocktail I’d ever tasted.
“I…” I stammered. “I just… I wanted you to see—”
“See what?” Melissa cut me off, her voice rising.
“See you ruin my marriage with your lies and accusations? You almost made me throw away the best thing that ever happened to me, all on the basis of some twisted suspicion!”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “You call yourself my best friend? This is how you treat me?”
I opened my mouth to apologize, but the words died in my throat. Melissa was right. My misguided attempt at helping had backfired spectacularly. I’d hurt her, betrayed her trust, and all for nothing.
Victor, sensing his advantage, placed a comforting hand on Melissa’s shoulder. “There, there, honey,” he murmured. “Don’t listen to her. She’s clearly jealous of what we have.”
Melissa shot him a watery smile, leaning into his touch. My stomach churned. Had I been so blinded by my suspicion that I’d missed the genuine affection between them? Or was Victor that good of an actor?
“Get out of my life, Nancy,” Melissa yelled. “And don’t you ever contact me again.”
There was no denying the finality in her voice. Tears streamed down my face as I watched Melissa stumble out of the bar with Victor in tow.
A week had passed since that fateful night. The silence from Melissa was deafening. My calls went unanswered, my texts left on read. Social media confirmed my worst fear — I was blocked.
Sitting alone in my apartment, replaying the scene over and over in my head, I felt a wave of self-loathing wash over me. I’d messed up, royally.
So, am I wrong? The answer, unfortunately, is clear. Yes. Yes, I was wrong. Dead wrong.
My intentions, while misguided, may have stemmed from a place of care. But the way I went about it? A complete disaster.
You know, I get it. Looking back, my whole plan to expose Victor was a dumpster fire wrapped in a trainwreck. But honestly, do you think I was the villain here? Sure, I messed up, big time. But Melissa deserved to know the truth, right? Or was I way out of line for meddling? Hit me with your thoughts.
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