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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The Previous Owner of My House Left a Cautionary Note About Our Neighbors – I Didn’t Believe It Until One Day
When we moved into our new house, we thought we’d found the perfect neighbors in the Johnsons. But after returning from vacation to find our property trashed, I discovered a hidden note that would change everything and force us to question who we could really trust.
We moved into our new house a year ago, and everything seemed perfect. The neighborhood was quiet, the house was beautiful, and we were excited to settle in. Our neighbors, the Johnsons, seemed cool too. They welcomed us with a pie and friendly smiles.
“Welcome to the neighborhood!” Jane beamed, holding out a steaming apple pie. Her husband, Tom, stood behind her, grinning and waving.
“Thanks so much,” I said, taking the pie. “I’m Emma, and this is my husband Mike.”
Mike stepped forward, shaking their hands. “Great to meet you both. We’re really looking forward to living here.”
We chatted for a while, and they seemed nice enough. Their house was somewhat run-down, but that didn’t bother us. Over the next few months, we got to know them better. We had barbecues, swam in our pool, and generally got along well.
But three months later, I found a note from the previous owner tucked inside a kitchen drawer. It read: “Beware of the Johnsons. They’ll make your life hell. Don’t put them too close.”
I showed it to Mike that evening. “What do you think about this?” I asked, handing him the note.
He read it and frowned. “Seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think? They’ve been nothing but nice to us.”
I nodded, but something nagged at me. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably nothing.”
“Maybe the previous owner had a personal beef with them,” Mike suggested. “People can be petty sometimes.”
We decided to ignore it. After all, we’d been getting along great with Jane and Tom. Every weekend, we invited them over for pool parties and barbecues. We exchanged recipes, borrowed books, and even asked for their advice about garden design.
“Your tomatoes look amazing, Tom,” I complimented Tom one day when he came over to look at my fledgling vegetable patch. “Any tips?” I asked.
Tom puffed up with pride. “Well, it’s all in the soil preparation…”
Jane and I swapped book recommendations regularly. “Oh, Emma, you have to read this one,” she’d say, pressing a novel into my hands. “It’s absolutely gripping.”
We gave them permission to use our garden and pool any time they wanted — we were set for our annual family vacation, so it felt good leaving the place for our new neighbors to enjoy.
Fast forward to last week. Mike and I returned from our vacation, and what we found left us livid. Our beautiful garden was trampled, the pool was filthy with debris, and there was garbage strewn all over the driveway. It was a complete nightmare.
“What the heck happened here?” Mike exclaimed, his face red with anger.
I clenched my fists. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
We marched over to the Johnsons’ house. I knocked on the door, my jaw set with determination. Jane answered with a smile that seemed a bit too wide.
“Hey, neighbors! How was your trip?” she chirped.
“What happened to our property?” Mike demanded to know, not standing for any small talk.
Tom stepped out to meet us on the porch, his face a mask of innocence. “That wasn’t us. You can’t prove anything,” he snapped.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why did you think we’d accuse you? Do you know who did this?”
Jane’s eyes darted nervously. “Oh, maybe it was the neighbors across the road? Ethan and his girlfriend — they’re a weird couple, bunch of hippies, if you ask me.”
“Right,” I said, not believing a word. “We’ll go check with them.”
We decided to check it out. Ethan answered the door, looking confused at our aggressive tone. His girlfriend, Olivia, stood next to him, equally bewildered.
“Look, we’re sorry to bother you,” I started, “but our property was vandalized while we were away. The Johnsons suggested it might have been you.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “What? No way! We’ve barely left the house since moving in. We’ve been renovating.”
Olivia stepped forward. “Actually, we might be able to help. We installed security cameras last week. They cover part of your property too.”
“Really?” Mike perked up. “Would you mind if we took a look?”
Ethan nodded. “Of course, come on in.”
We watched the footage in disbelief. The Johnsons had thrown multiple parties at our house while we were away. Their guests had no respect for our property, and Jane and Tom did nothing to stop them.
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, watching Jane laugh as her kid spray-painted our fence.
Mike’s fists were clenched. “Those lying, two-faced —”
“I’m so sorry,” Ethan said. “We had no idea this was happening.”
Olivia nodded. “Yeah, if we’d known, we would have said something.”
We thanked them for their help and left, fury building with each step back to the Johnsons’ house. This time, we didn’t bother knocking.
“Hey, Tom,” I called out. “Let’s talk again about the trash that mysteriously appeared on our property.”
Tom came to the door, opened it, and looked at me for a few moments, then he shrugged and offered lamely, “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s just some trash and a bit of paint. Kids will be kids, right?”
“Just some trash?” Mike exploded. “Our pool is filthy, our garden is destroyed, and there’s garbage all over our property!”
“And let’s not forget the multiple parties you threw at our house,” I added. “We saw the security footage.”
Jane’s face paled. “What footage?”
“Ethan and Olivia’s security cameras caught everything,” I explained, enjoying the look of panic on their faces.
Their smug attitudes fueled my anger. I knew it was time to teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
That night, after the Johnsons had gone to bed, Mike and I put our plan into action. We gathered up all the garbage they’d left at our house, plus a few extra “presents” from our trash.
At midnight, we crept over to their yard. “Ready?” I whispered to Mike.
He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s do this.”
We spread the trash all over their lawn and garden, making sure it was a complete mess. As a final touch, we let our kids paint whatever they wanted on the Johnsons’ front fence.
“Remember, kids,” I whispered, “be as creative as you want.”
Our daughter grinned, wielding her paintbrush like a weapon. “This is gonna be fun!”
The next morning, we woke up early to watch the show. Jane’s scream of disgust was music to my ears.
“Tom! Tom! Look at this!” she shrieked.
Tom stumbled out, and his jaw dropped at the sight. “What is this?”
We casually strolled over, coffee mugs in hand. “Everything okay?” I asked innocently.
Jane turned to us, her face red with anger. “Did you do this?”
I shrugged, mimicking Tom’s gesture from yesterday. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s just some trash and a bit of paint.”
Mike chimed in, “Kids will be kids, right?”
The look on their faces was priceless. They knew they’d been caught, and there was nothing they could do about it.
“This is unacceptable!” Tom blustered. “We’ll report you to the homeowners’ association!”
I smiled sweetly. “Go ahead. I’m sure they’d love to see the footage of you vandalizing our property too.”
Jane’s face crumpled. “Why would you do this?”
“Why would we do this?” Mike repeated incredulously. “Are you serious? You trashed our house, threw parties without our permission, and let your guests destroy our property!”
“And then you lied about it,” I added. “You even tried to blame Ethan and Olivia.”
Tom had the decency to look ashamed. “We… we didn’t think you’d find out.”
“Well, we did,” I said firmly. “And now you know how it feels.”
Word spread quickly through the neighborhood. When Jane tried to complain to other neighbors, we simply showed them the footage of what the Johnsons had done to our property.
“I can’t believe they would do that,” our neighbor Mrs. Peterson said, shaking her head after watching the video. “And they seemed like such nice people.”
Another neighbor, Mr. Garcia, was equally disgusted. “That’s just not right. You can’t treat people’s property like that.”
Within days, the neighborhood had turned against them. They had no choice but to clean up their mess and change their ways.
As I watched them picking up trash from their lawn, I couldn’t help but think about that warning note. Sometimes, you need to stand up for yourself and teach people a lesson in respect. The Johnsons learned the hard way that treating others badly can come back to bite you.
“You know,” Mike said, putting his arm around me, “I’m glad we found that note, even if it was a little late.”
I nodded, leaning into him. “Me too. And next time, we’ll listen to warnings like that a lot sooner.”
We stood there, watching the Johnsons work, feeling satisfied that justice had been served. It wasn’t the welcome to the neighborhood we’d expected, but it sure made for one hell of a story.
As we turned to go back inside, I saw Ethan and Olivia walking down the street. They waved, and we waved back.
“You know,” I said to Mike, “I think we might have found some real friends in this neighborhood after all.”
What would you have done?
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