Chapter 1: The $100,000 Masquerade

So, here’s the deal: I went undercover as a guy and somehow managed to snag the attention of an old-money heiress from New York. Yeah, you read that right. Wild, huh?

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be pulling off a stunt like this, I would’ve laughed you right out of my room. But here I was, full-on living the part—and honestly? I was loving every second. The city lights blinking outside my window almost seemed to wink at me, like they were in on the joke. Figures. It was hard not to smirk, thinking about how far I’d come from my dusty little hometown.

She started telling everyone how amazing I was, practically showing me off to rile up her childhood friend. But the guy just played it cool, which only made her double down—so she upped the ante and announced she was pregnant, and the baby was mine. That’s when the childhood friend finally lost it. And, honestly, so did I. I mean, what the hell?

Victory.

I dropped my voice, exhaled a stream of smoke, and stared at the screen as it flashed “Victory.”

The blue glow of my monitor washed over the cramped room. I tapped my cigarette against a chipped mug, watching the ash tumble and swirl in the dusty beam from my desk lamp. “Victory” flashed again, bold and cocky, and for a second, I let myself feel like I was on top of the world—even if it was just pixels and trash talk.

“Thanks, Ash. You’re really not like all the other gaming buddies.”

Her voice in my headset was gentle, a little shy. “You never try to sweet-talk me, and you even tease me when I suck… you know?”

She let her words hang, like she was waiting for me to say something. I could almost see her twirling a strand of hair, biting her lip, hoping I’d jump in. Most guys would probably melt, but I just kept my cool. What else was new?

“Just calling it like I see it.” I checked the clock—my fee was still running—then flicked some ash onto my faded boxers. “One more round?”

I stretched out my legs, feeling the old couch’s rough fabric dig into my calves. My phone glowed 2:13 AM. The ramen I’d eaten hours ago was just sitting there, cold and heavy in my stomach. Still, money’s money.

“Ash, actually, I like you—”

She paused just long enough for it to get awkward. “I mean, I like how honest you are. You always say what you think.”

Another beat. “By the way, speaking of… big…”

These little flirty tricks—honestly, it’s like showing off in front of LeBron. I just clamped my cigarette between my lips, grabbed my phone, and shuffled off to nuke some more ramen.

I shook my head, grinning as I padded across the cold linoleum. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time a client tried that line, I’d be eating real takeout instead of this instant noodle life.

When I didn’t answer, she got flustered. “Are—are you mad? That was just some internet meme, really.”

She sounded way more nervous now—classic when someone thinks they messed up. I could practically hear her cringing.

I stubbed out my cigarette, keeping it simple: “Nope.”

A last wisp of smoke curled up and disappeared, and I watched it fade out. That’s the job: stay cool, keep your distance. Never let them see you sweat.

That’s the whole gaming god vibe—hot avatar, crazy skills, barely talks, cool as hell. The more mysterious, the better the business.

But unlike the other male gaming partners, my profile pic wasn’t just some random dude from Instagram—it was actually me.

It was a gamble, but it worked. People always think the best-looking guys online are fake, so when I showed up looking like my avatar, it threw them off in the best way. Secret weapon, right there.

My eyes drifted over to the cracked mirror taped by the door. Cropped black hair, sly upturned eyes, dark pupils, sharp nose. Not bad for a girl from a small town, honestly.

I ran a finger along my jaw, checking the angle, the shadow, how the light caught my cheekbones. Not bad at all. I winked at myself. Who says you can’t fake it till you make it? Worked for me so far.

“Ash, there’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…”

She took a breath, like she’d finally made up her mind. “Let’s meet up. For real.”

My eyebrow shot up. I was about to turn her down when she added, “Just one meeting, I’ll pay you $15,000.”

“If you pretend to be my boyfriend, I’ll give you another hundred grand.”

My heart did a full-on double take. A hundred grand... That kind of cash? That could change my whole life. Pay off my student loans, fix the busted radiator, maybe even get a place with a real bedroom. But first, I had to survive this little masquerade. No pressure.