MY FAKE GIRLFRIEND WAS A BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS

The Girl Behind the Counter

By eight-thirty Monday morning, Noah Bennett already knew the day would be terrible.

He knew it before he stepped into the glass doors of Ridgewell Financial Group. He knew it when he checked his bank balance while standing at the bus stop and saw a number that made him lock his phone immediately. He knew it when he remembered the email sitting unopened in his inbox from his landlord.

And most of all, he knew it because he had spent the entire weekend staring at a financial model he had spent three weeks building, only to discover that someone else had submitted it under their name.

His name was nowhere on it.

Not in the document history. Not in the presentation. Not even in the acknowledgements.

Three weeks of late nights had apparently disappeared.

Noah stepped out of the elevator on the twenty-third floor and adjusted his shirt collar. The knot of his tie felt too tight, but loosening it would only make him look as exhausted as he felt.

The office was already busy.

Phones rang. Shoes clicked against polished floors. Employees moved between glass conference rooms carrying laptops and coffee, speaking in the low, urgent voices of people who believed everything was important.

Noah walked toward his desk.

"Morning."

He glanced up.

Ryan Cole was leaning against the partition beside him, holding two cups of coffee.

"You look dead," Ryan said.

"Good morning to you too."

Ryan handed him one of the cups. "I got you coffee."

Noah looked at it suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because you look like you're about to commit a financial crime."

"I might."

Ryan laughed. "That's the spirit."

Noah sat down and opened his laptop.

His inbox was worse than he remembered.

Three unread messages from his manager. One from Human Resources. Two from clients.

And one from Vanessa.

He stared at her name for several seconds before clicking on the email.

There was only one sentence.

We need to talk.

Noah closed it.

Ryan noticed.

"Vanessa?"

"Unfortunately."

"Want me to spill coffee on her if she comes here?"

Noah almost smiled.

Almost.

"Tempting."

Ryan pulled up the chair beside him. "You still haven't told me what happened."

"With Vanessa?"

"With everything."

Noah looked around the office before lowering his voice.

"I found out Daniel submitted my Ridgewell acquisition model yesterday."

Ryan's expression changed.

"Submitted it how?"

"Under his name."

"You're joking."

"I wish I was."

Ryan shook his head. "Did you talk to him?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining things."

"And?"

Noah turned his laptop toward him.

Ryan read the document.

His eyes moved across the screen.

Then back to Noah.

"That's your work."

"I know."

"Every page?"

"Every page."

Ryan leaned back slowly.

"He's going to get promoted for this."

"Probably."

"And you're just going to sit here?"

Noah looked toward Daniel Harper's office.

The glass walls were tinted enough to give him privacy without actually hiding him. Daniel was already inside, speaking to two senior executives. He looked relaxed.

Confident.

Like a man who had never had to worry about losing anything.

Noah looked away.

"Not today."

Ryan frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm going to figure out exactly how much evidence I have before I accuse my manager of stealing my work."

Ryan studied him for a moment.

"You're too careful, Noah."

"I know."

"One day that is going to get you into trouble."

Noah gave him a tired smile.

"Pretty sure I'm already there."

His phone vibrated.

This time it wasn't Vanessa.

It was his landlord.

He didn't open the message.

He already knew what it would say.

He had promised himself that after his next paycheck, he would catch up on everything. Rent. Bills. His credit card. The loan he had taken to cover the last one.

But that plan depended on keeping his job.

And right now, he wasn't sure how much longer that was going to happen.

At ten fifteen, Daniel finally called him into his office.

"Noah."

He stood in the doorway.

"You wanted to see me?"

Daniel didn't look up from his tablet.

"Close the door."

Noah did.

Daniel gestured toward the chair.

"Sit."

Noah sat.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Daniel placed the tablet on his desk.

"I reviewed your performance over the last quarter."

Noah waited.

"You've been struggling."

The words were delivered casually, almost kindly.

Noah stared at him.

"Struggling?"

"Your numbers aren't where they need to be."

"I completed every assignment you gave me."

"Completion isn't the same as performance."

Noah felt something tighten in his chest.

He knew where this was going.

Daniel continued.

"You're talented, Noah. But talent without initiative doesn't mean much."

"Initiative?"

"You're always waiting for someone to tell you what to do."

Noah almost laughed.

He had spent the last three weeks working until midnight because Daniel kept changing deadlines.

But he didn't laugh.

He simply asked, "Is this about the acquisition model?"

Daniel's expression didn't change.

"What about it?"

"I built it."

Daniel leaned back.

"And?"

"And it was submitted yesterday under your name."

A silence settled between them.

Then Daniel smiled.

It wasn't a friendly smile.

"Noah, be careful."

"About what?"

"About making accusations you can't prove."

Noah stared at him.

"I can prove it."

"Then perhaps you should."

Daniel picked up his tablet again.

The meeting was over.

Noah stood.

Before he reached the door, Daniel spoke again.

"One more thing."

Noah turned.

"The Carter Foundation Gala is this Friday. Senior staff is expected to attend."

Noah nodded.

"I'll be there."

Daniel looked at him for a second.

"Good."

Noah left.

He didn't notice the faint smile on Daniel's face.

He also didn't notice that Daniel immediately opened his phone and sent a message.

He's starting to ask questions.

By six thirty that evening, Noah had officially given up on the day.

He left the office, walked three blocks in the wrong direction, realized what he was doing, and kept walking anyway.

He needed coffee.

Not because he liked coffee.

Because coffee was cheaper than dinner.

Corner Brew was halfway down a quiet street lined with small shops and apartments. Noah had discovered it three weeks earlier, shortly after his workload had become unbearable.

There was nothing remarkable about the place.

That was precisely why he liked it.

No loud music. No pretentious menu. No people taking pictures of themselves for social media.

Just warm lighting, wooden tables, quiet conversations, and the smell of freshly ground coffee.

And Sophie.

She was always behind the counter.

Noah had seen her nearly every evening since he discovered the place.

She was probably around his age, although he had never asked. She had long, dark hair that she usually tied loosely behind her shoulders and an effortless kind of beauty that never seemed deliberate.

She didn't dress like someone trying to attract attention.

Usually it was a simple blouse beneath a faded black apron, small earrings, and almost no makeup.

She remembered everyone's order.

Except his.

At least, that was what Noah told himself.

He reached the counter.

"Black coffee."

Sophie looked up.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Then she smiled.

"You're late."

Noah paused.

"What?"

"You usually come in around six."

He glanced at the clock.

"Have you been keeping track?"

"You're the one who comes here almost every day."

"That sounds like you've been keeping track."

She shrugged.

"Maybe."

She turned around to prepare his coffee.

Noah watched her for a second before looking away.

"Rough day?"

He looked back.

"How do you know?"

"You look like you want to fight someone."

"That's my normal face."

"Then you should work on that."

He smiled despite himself.

She placed the cup on the counter.

"On the house."

Noah frowned.

"Why?"

"You look like you need it."

"I can pay."

"I know."

He looked at her.

She had already turned away.

Noah took the coffee and walked toward his usual table.

For the first time that day, his shoulders relaxed.

Maybe Ryan was right.

Maybe he needed to stop being so careful.

Maybe he needed to do something stupid.

He took out his phone.

Vanessa's message was still there.

We need to talk.

He stared at it.

Then another notification appeared.

Unknown number.

Noah opened it.

You don't know me yet, Noah Bennett.

His eyebrows pulled together.

A second message appeared.

But tonight, you're going to need a girlfriend.

He stared at the screen.

Then looked around the coffee shop.

Everyone seemed normal.

A couple near the window was talking quietly. A man in the corner was reading. Sophie was cleaning the counter.

Noah looked back at his phone.

Another message arrived.

7:00 PM. Corner Brew.

He slowly raised his eyes.

Sophie was looking directly at him.

And for the first time since he had met her, she wasn't smiling.

The Proposal

Sophie was still looking at him.

Noah glanced at his phone again, then back at her.

The message remained on the screen.

7:00 PM. Corner Brew.

His eyes narrowed.

"Was that you?"

Sophie didn't answer immediately.

She walked out from behind the counter, wiped her hands on the side of her apron, and stopped beside his table.

"Come with me."

Noah stared at her.

"Where?"

"Somewhere we can talk."

"You sent the message?"

"Yes."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Okay. That's slightly terrifying."

For the first time that evening, the corner of Sophie's mouth lifted.

"You're dramatic."

"You texted me from an unknown number and told me I needed a girlfriend."

"I said you were going to need one."

"That's somehow worse."

She looked around the café.

"Five minutes."

Noah followed her through a narrow door behind the counter and into