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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“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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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Sarah’s life has always revolved around her family, but a devastating call from the hospital forced her to confront everything she had put on hold. As she rediscovers herself and begins living on her terms, a surprising twist changes everything, leading her to see life completely differently.
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I Found a Girl in the Middle of an Empty Road at Night – When I Got Closer, I Went Pale
Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother spots a young girl in a tattered dress, silent and familiar. As she pulls closer, she notices that the girl’s haunted eyes hold secrets that might be better left hidden.
It was late, and the night felt thicker than usual. The fog wrapped around the car like a heavy blanket, swallowing up everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
Driving through the fog | Source: Pexels
“Just get home,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been such a long day at work, and all I wanted was my bed.
I hated this road. I’d always hated it. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I had thought: Just a quick shortcut. It’ll save me time.
A woman driving through the fog | Source: Midjourney
Then, something caught my eye. A shadow, right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding, and stared. The figure was barely visible, just an outline in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox or something,” I whispered, even though I knew it wasn’t. As I rolled forward slowly, the shadow appeared to be a girl. She was thin, and her white dress seemed to cling to her in tatters.
A girl on a figgy road | Source: Midjourney
I felt an instinctual chill crawl up my spine. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to get out of there. But something stronger kept me rooted in place.
I rolled down the window a crack, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out, flashlight in hand. I aimed it at her face, and the beam caught her features for the first time. I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes, the mouth parted slightly in confusion.
A woman stepping out from her car | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” My voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to hear me. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine, empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, barely there.
Shock and relief crashed over me. It was her. My Emily, my daughter who’d been gone for five years. She’d vanished without a trace, no sign of where she’d gone or who might have taken her. The police and search parties had all come up with nothing.
A search party going through the woods | Source: Pexels
“Emily, oh my God… it’s really you,” I stammered, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? Are you hurt?”
She blinked, her face blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small. It was like it hadn’t been used in years.
I swallowed, my mind racing. Trauma, maybe. I had been warned that if we ever found her, she might not remember because kids could block out things that were too painful.
A shy girl looking down | Source: Midjourney
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. It’s Mom. We’re gonna go home, okay?” My hand trembled as I reached out.
I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, feeling her icy skin through the fabric. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said, guiding her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her expression distant.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet, her gaze never leaving the foggy darkness outside. I glanced over, trying to read her face, but there was nothing, just a blank stare, as though she was somewhere else entirely.
“Emily,” I tried gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was… dark. And… there was someone. I think. I think he brought food, but… I don’t remember his face.”
A sad girl in the backseat of the car | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now. We’re going home.”
She didn’t respond; she stared into the fog as we left the dark road behind.
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a pang of relief. The familiar porch light, the sight of home, everything safe. But as I opened the door and led her inside, a new unease settled over me.
A house at night | Source: Pexels
Emily sat stiffly on the couch, looking around like she didn’t recognize anything. Her movements were slow, almost robotic.
“Do you… remember this place?” I asked.
She shrugged, her eyes blank. “I think so.”
Her voice was so flat, so empty. I sat beside her, reaching out, but stopped, unsure if she wanted comfort or space.
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely there, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and sat there watching her, unsure of what to do or say.
The days that followed were a blur of quiet tension. Emily barely spoke, answering my questions in monosyllables, her gaze always elsewhere. I only heard her voice when she sang an old lullaby that I used to sing to her as a baby. I knew she couldn’t have remembered that, but I didn’t want to pry either.
A girl covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
One evening, I found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by old photo albums I’d stored in a closet. She had one open on her lap, her fingers tracing a picture of Mark, her father. He’d passed away when she was just a baby, so young she couldn’t possibly remember him.
“Mom?” she whispered, her brow furrowed. “I know him.”
I felt a strange chill. “Honey, that’s your dad. Remember? I told you about him.”
A sad girl hugging herself | Source: Pexels
“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I know him. From… the place.” Her eyes filled with confusion, and she stared at the picture as if trying to make sense of a dream.
My throat went dry. “What place, Emily?”
Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember… but he was there.”
A concerned woman talking to her scared child | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced. Emily couldn’t have known Mark. She was just a baby when he died. But someone who looked like him… my thoughts shifted sharply. Mark’s brother, Jake.
He looked so much like Mark that they could’ve been twins. He’d even stayed with us a few times after Mark’s death. He’d been there when I sang Emily her lullabies. A memory rushed back of Jake standing in the doorway, listening to me sing her to sleep.
Bothers posing for a photo | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer. I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I drove out to the old family cabin, an isolated place nestled deep in the woods on the edge of town. I hadn’t been there since Mark died.
After his passing, the cabin became a hollow shell of memories I couldn’t bear to face. And no one ever had a reason to visit it. The police hadn’t even searched there when Emily disappeared; they’d assumed it was abandoned, unimportant.
A shack in the woods | Source: Pexels
I parked the car and stepped out, the silence of the forest pressing in around me. The cabin looked just as I remembered, except more rundown. But something was off.
As I moved closer, I saw one of the windows was covered with a piece of heavy cloth. I felt a surge of unease. Why would someone cover the window?
A window covered with a peace of cloth | Source: Pexels
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and stale air hit me in a wave. Dust lay thick over everything except for a narrow trail leading toward a door in the back. My pulse quickened. I followed the trail, my shoes stirring up the dust in the silent cabin.
When I opened the back door, my stomach clenched. It was a small, dim room. And unlike the rest of the cabin, this room was eerily clean. On the floor lay a few scattered toys, faded but well-loved, as though they’d been played with often. A shiver ran through me.
A dim room with a small window | Source: Pexels
This was where she’d been.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, and reached for my phone. Within minutes, the police were on their way.
Hours later, I sat with Emily in the living room as the officers worked at the cabin. She was quiet, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. When I took her hand, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that broke my heart.
The police searching a cabin in the woods | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I remember the man.”
I swallowed hard. “Who was it, sweetheart?”
Her voice shook. “It was Uncle Jake. He… he looked like Daddy, but different. He… he would bring me food, but he never spoke. He just sat there, outside the door. He… he used to hum that song.”
A sad girl | Source: Pexels
The police confirmed it that evening. They had enough evidence in the cabin to make an arrest. When they found Jake, he confessed, claiming he had taken Emily to “protect” her, that he’d wanted to be the one she depended on.
It was twisted and sick, and knowing he’d been that close to us all those years made my skin crawl.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
When they told Emily, she broke down, sobbing, the weight of years of silence finally releasing. I held her close, rocking her as she cried, whispering over and over, “You’re safe now. No one will ever take you away again.”
The days that followed were quiet, but a warmth was beginning to bloom again between us. Emily started to talk more, little by little, and she would hum that old lullaby at night, almost as if testing if it was safe to hear it again.
A woman drawing with her daughter | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we sat by the window, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I began to hum the lullaby softly, how I used to when she was little. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw a spark of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
I held her close, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
A girl kissing her mother | Source: Freepik
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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