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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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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My MIL Demanded I Give Back My Engagement Ring Because It ‘Belonged to Her Side of the Family’
When my husband proposed, he gave me a beautiful vintage ring that had been in his family for generations. But his mother decided it wasn’t mine to keep. She demanded it back, and I handed it over, too stunned to argue. I thought that was the end of it… I was wrong.
When Adam proposed with the most beautiful vintage ring I’d ever seen, I thought I was living in a fairytale. The delicate gold band, the deep blue sapphire, and the tiny diamonds framing it perfectly made it stunning, timeless, and absolutely mine… until his mother demanded I give it back because it “belonged to her family.”
A stunning ring in a box | Source: Midjourney
Adam and I had been married for six months, and life felt good. Our small apartment was slowly becoming a home, and we fell into a comfortable rhythm together.
Every morning, I caught the sunlight hitting my ring as I made coffee, and I smiled, remembering the day he nervously got down on one knee. It was magical.
So, one pleasant Friday night, we went to his parents’ house for dinner. I wore the ring, as I always did. The moment we walked through the door, I noticed my mother-in-law Diane staring at my hand, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Close-up shot of a woman wearing a sapphire ring | Source: Pixabay
I squeezed Adam’s hand and whispered, “Your mom seems off tonight.”
“She’s fine,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Dad made her favorite roast. She’s probably just hungry.”
But I felt her eyes on me throughout the evening, following my left hand whenever I reached for my water glass or gestured during the conversation.
A senior woman grimly staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
Halfway through dinner, Adam and his father Peter got up to check on the roast in the oven. As soon as they were out of earshot, Diane leaned across the table toward me.
“Enjoying that ring, are you?” Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were cold.
I blinked, confused by the sudden question. “Sure… Adam gave it to me.”
A puzzled woman | Source: Midjourney
She gave me this tight, pitying smile that made my stomach clench. “Oh, sweetheart. He did. But that ring has been in our family for generations. My grandmother’s. It’s not some little trinket meant to end up on the hand of… well, someone like YOU.”
My face burned as if she’d slapped me. “Someone like ME?”
“Let’s be honest,” she continued, folding her napkin precisely. “Your side of the family doesn’t exactly have heirlooms. You’re not… well, you’re not exactly the kind of woman who passes things like this down. It belongs with us. Where it actually matters.”
A frustrated woman scowling | Source: Midjourney
I sat frozen, the words hitting me like tiny darts. Then, as casually as if she were asking me to pass the salt, she extended her hand.
“Go ahead and give it back now. I’ll keep it safe.”
I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want a scene. The way she said it — like it was just obvious I didn’t deserve it — made me feel small and insignificant.
So I slid the ring off my finger, placed it on the table, and excused myself to the bathroom before anyone saw the tears welling up.
A ring placed on the table | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t mention this to Adam,” she called after me. “It would only upset him, and there’s no need for that.”
I stayed in that bathroom for what felt like forever, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The bare spot on my finger felt wrong, like a missing tooth you can’t stop running your tongue over.
“Pull yourself together,” I whispered to my reflection. My eyes were red, but I splashed cold water on my face until I looked somewhat normal.
An emotional woman in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
When I returned to the dining room, Adam shot me a concerned look.
“Everything okay?” he asked, reaching for my hand under the table.
I nodded, carefully keeping my left hand hidden in my lap. “Just a headache.”
Diane smiled at me from across the table, the ring nowhere in sight. “Poor dear. Would you like some aspirin?”
“No thank you,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
A smiling man seated at a dining table | Source: Midjourney
Dinner continued as if nothing had happened. Peter talked about his golf game. Adam discussed a project at work. I pushed the food around my plate, barely tasting anything.
On the drive home, Adam kept glancing at me. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“Just tired,” I said, staring out the window, my left hand tucked beneath my right.
“Mom seemed to be on her best behavior for once,” he said with a chuckle. “Usually she finds something to criticize about everyone.”
I bit my lip hard. “Yeah. She always has… something.”
A disheartened woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
When we returned home, I headed straight to bed, claiming exhaustion. As Adam retreated to watch soccer on TV, I curled up under the covers, staring at my bare finger where the ring once sat.
Tears slid silently down my cheeks. What would I tell Adam if he asked about the ring? How could I complain about his mother to him?
I didn’t want her to blame me for more drama or accuse me of driving a wedge between mother and son. I was trapped and miserable.
A sad woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
The mattress dipped as Adam climbed onto the bed hours later. He wrapped an arm around me, and I pretended to be asleep, afraid he might notice my ringless finger.
“Love you,” he murmured against my hair.
I lay awake most of the night, wondering how something so small could make me feel so worthless.
The following morning, I went downstairs and found a sticky note on the fridge from Adam: “Urgent work. See you! Love you.”
A sticky note stuck onto a regrigerator | Source: Midjourney
I sighed with relief. At least I didn’t have to mention the ring that morning and spoil his mood.
But what would I say when he eventually noticed? That I lost it? That it slipped off? The thought of lying to him made me sick, but the thought of telling him the truth was worse.
All day, I moved through the house like a ghost, rehearsing explanations in my head, each one sounding more pathetic than the last. As evening approached, I heard a car door slam outside. My heart raced.
A car on the driveway | Source: Unsplash
When I opened the door, my husband wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was his father, Peter. And in Peter’s hand was a small velvet ring box.
My heart jumped to my throat.
“Can we come in?” Adam asked, his expression unreadable.
They both entered, and Peter set the box on the coffee table like it weighed a 100 pounds.
A velvet box on a table | Source: Midjourney
No one spoke for a long moment. Then Peter cleared his throat.
“I saw the ring in Diane’s hand last night and knew exactly what she was pulling,” he said, his normally jovial face serious. “And I wasn’t having it. I called Adam this morning.”
Adam’s jaw tightened. “Dad told me everything. Why didn’t you say something, Mia?”
I looked down at my hands. “I didn’t want to cause problems. She made me feel like… like I didn’t deserve it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Adam said, his voice rising. “I gave you that ring because I love you. It’s yours.”
An annoyed man | Source: Midjourney
Peter nodded. “After you two left, I confronted Diane. She admitted to cornering you and making you give the ring back.” His face darkened. “She didn’t think you should have something so ‘valuable’ considering ‘where you came from.'”
My cheeks burned with the remembered humiliation.
“But I wasn’t having any of it,” Peter continued. “That ring was meant for you. Adam wanted you to have it. It’s yours. Diane won’t be bothering you again. I made sure of that.”
A stern older man | Source: Midjourney
Adam took the velvet box from the table and knelt down in front of me, his eyes shining with emotion.
“Let’s try this again,” he said, opening the box to reveal the sapphire ring. “Marry me… again?”
I laughed through my tears, holding out my shaking left hand. “Yes. Always yes.”
He slid the ring back on my finger, where it belonged and where it would stay.
Close-up shot of a man holding a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. “I had no idea she would do something like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, gripping his hands tightly. “But thank you for standing up for me.”
Peter watched us with a satisfied smile. “Family means accepting people for who they are, not where they come from. Diane will come around eventually, but until then…”
“Until then, we have each other,” Adam finished, making me laugh.
An emotional woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
Two weeks later, we had dinner at Adam’s parents’ house again. I almost refused to go, but Adam insisted.
“We can’t avoid them forever,” he said as we pulled into the driveway. “Besides, Dad says Mom has something to say to you.”
My stomach knotted as we walked to the door, the ring heavy on my finger. Peter answered, giving me a warm hug.
“She’s in the kitchen,” he said. “Go easy on her. She’s been practicing her apology all day.”
Close-up shot of a woman wearing a stunning sapphire ring | Source: Midjourney
I found Diane arranging flowers at the counter, her back to me. When she turned and saw me, her eyes immediately went to the ring on my finger.
“It looks good on you,” she said after a long pause.
I didn’t respond.
She sighed, setting down her scissors. “I was wrong, Mia. What I did was… it was unforgivable.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Because I was selfish. Because I thought that ring belonged in our family, and I…” She trailed off, looking embarrassed.
A guilty older woman | Source: Midjourney
“And you didn’t think I was family,” I finished for her.
She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I was wrong. Peter hasn’t spoken to me properly in two weeks, and Adam… well, the way he looked at me when he found out…” She shook her head. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Maybe ever. But I’m sorry.”
I studied her face, looking for any hint of insincerity. “I’m not giving the ring back.”
She gave a watery laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of asking. It’s yours, fair and square.” She hesitated, then added, “And so is your place in this family.”
A relieved older woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
At dinner, the tension gradually eased. Diane made a visible effort to include me in the conversation, asking about my work and my parents. Later, as we helped clear the table, she paused beside me.
“I was thinking,” she said, her voice low so only I could hear, “maybe you’d like to see some of the other family pieces someday. There’s a beautiful necklace that would match your eyes.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Maybe someday. When we both mean it.”
She nodded, understanding the boundary I set. “Whenever you’re ready.”
A diamond necklace on a table | Source: Pexels
Diane hasn’t so much as glanced at my ring since that night. And as for Peter, he’s definitely my favorite in-law now.
Last week, he gave me an old photo album, filled with Adam’s childhood photos and pictures of the ring on the fingers of women throughout the family history.
“For your children someday,” he said with a wink. “So they’ll know where it came from.”
A woman looking at family photos in an album | Source: Pexels
I added my own photo to the collection — a close-up shot of my hand holding Adam’s, the sapphire catching the light.
This ring belongs to me. Not because someone decided I was worthy enough to wear it, but because love made it mine. The same way love, not blood, makes a family.
A man holding a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
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