Fake It Till You Make it
1056 Words
Immediately, he walked in and saw the book in my hand. It felt like an earthquake shook the entire room—and the aftershock was wrecking me from the inside out.
My hands trembled, my legs wobbled, and it felt like the walls were spinning, because I couldn't handle the pressure.
Just as I was about to place the album back, it slipped from my fingers and crashed down on my foot with a loud thud.
“Ow—” I winced, part in pain, part in disbelief.
Luca’s reflexes kicked in fast. He rushed over, lifted the book off my foot, and gently sat me down on the sofa. His touch felt like concern.
"How did the book slip out of your hands?" he asked, his voice raised—not in anger, but affection. His eyes scanned me like I was made of fragile glass.
But I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even blink.
“It’s just…” I stuttered, my lips parting, but the rest of the sentence vanished into thin air.
Because all I could think about… was the truth I had just discovered.
Luca Zhao… was my stepbrother.
The same man whose posters once filled my bedroom walls.
The same man I’d secretly crushed on since I was fifteen.
Not only did I have a crush on him, I had even done deep research into his lifestyle—from his workouts to his skincare routine. I even memorized the name of his car like it was mine.
And now?
Now, he was the son of the man who had destroyed the last piece of my family.
I didn’t know what hurt more—finding out Luca was my stepbrother, or learning he was tied to the man I had vowed to take down.
The man my mother feared more than death.
But now wasn’t the time to cry.
Now was the time to act.
And like my mother always said: “Fake it till you make it.” That proverb had raised me. And with it, I flipped the script—just like that.
I turned back into the clueless, innocent fangirl.
“Mr. Luca, I’m so sorry. Just as Miss Harper left, she slammed the door, and the book must’ve fallen. I thought I should pick it up,” I lied, slipping the picture back into my sleeve with practiced ease.
“That’s thoughtful of you,” he said, voice softening. “But be careful next time. I don’t want you ending up in a cast on your first day.”
He smiled, and my heart melted—for a moment.
But the hidden photo still clenched in my palm rekindled the rage I’d tried to douse.
I stood from the sofa abruptly and returned to the cold, professional seat in front of his desk.
“Sir, you called me… to the 60th floor,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, even when a droplet of tears was about to escape.
“Yes, I did," he said, changing the true intentions of his request. Luca wasn't called the innocent p*****t for nothing. He understood girls more than a psychologist, so he knew just asking for what he wanted wouldn't work. So he had to use the decade-long strategy in winning a girl which was assurance, assistance and compliment to achieve his goal.
"But may I ask—why were you sitting there looking so sad and frustrated?” His voice dropped, smoother than before. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t ever look that way,” he said while stroking my hands placed on the table.
His actions while asking me that question made something inside me snap, at that moment all I could wish for was a knife so I could drive it down his throat.
But if I got arrested—or fired—I’d never get another golden chance to bring down the family that shattered mine.
So I recited my new mantra:
Fake it till you make it.
“It’s just…” I began, forcing my voice to tremble slightly. “I got selected into the internship program, but I haven’t been placed yet. Miss Harper assigned my friends to their departments… but left me out. Just because I’m the intern working directly under her.”
I kept my tone soft, laced with just enough vulnerability to pull him in.
“So that’s why you were so sad?” he asked, his voice carrying a strange warmth.
Hearing that, I felt a flicker of hope and assurance.
“You know what… Do you still want that internship post?” he asked, a grin slowly forming on his face.
“Yes!” I replied quickly, unable to hide the thrill in my voice.
“Well… my answer is no. You won’t be getting that post,” he said flatly.
My heart skipped. Had he found out? Was I too obvious?
“Sir, I really need...” I started pleading, panic entwining with my tone.
“You won’t be joining the internship program,” he cut in again. Then smiled. “You’ll be working directly with me as my personal assistant. You’ll handle all external meetings, calls, and schedules. And if you’re still interested in learning, I don’t mind giving you some one-on-one mentoring—after or during work hours.”
“Sir, thank you. You won’t regret this,” I replied, layering my tone with false gratitude. I bowed slightly, pretending to be honored.
“Sorry for teasing you earlier,” he said, chuckling. “I thought the suspense would cheer you up—and I was right. You’ll resume right here tomorrow morning. Remember this office.”
“Thanks again,” I said with a sly smile, accompanied by my polite tone. “I don’t know how to repay this favor. What can I do for you, sir?”
“All I need… is your name,” he said, stroking his chin in amusement.
I paused, just briefly, before answering.
“It’s Seraph Hampton,” I said.
The name of the girl who’s going to destroy you.
Just when I thought I had escaped any
further questions, his next words cut deeper than I expected.
He asked me something… something that felt too personal, too well-timed.
Something that made me feel like he knew everything
.
- Writer
