The Chauffeur’s Son: Fake Heir

1
The driver's son became the king of our school, all by pretending to be a rich heir. He was the one who spread the rumor that I was desperately in love with him.
When priceless heirlooms started vanishing from my home, he begged me not to call the cops. Then, at school, he led the charge to make my life a living hell.
I was diagnosed with severe depression. Just as my parents started to uncover the truth, he had his father leak our companys most guarded secrets to our biggest rival.
We were ruined. My family, once titans of industry, were now homeless, wandering the streets.
One rainy night, in a dark alley, we were beaten to death. The last thing I saw was his smug, handsome face, sneering down at us, telling us we deserved it.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back before it all went wrong.
The drivers sonEthanstood before the entire class, arms spread wide. "This weekend," he announced, "party at my villa! Everyone's invited!"
A roar of excitement filled the room. As they cheered for him, I pulled out my phone and sent a single, cold text: Effective immediately, no outsiders are permitted in any of my familys properties.
Screw his rich-kid act. If he thought I was a fool, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.
"Ethan, you're the man! A true prince!"
"Thanks, Ethan! We finally get to see how the other half lives!"
The deafening cheers snapped me back to the present. Ethan stood in the center of it all, a king surrounded by his adoring court, basking in their praise. His eyes met mine, and a flicker of somethingannoyance? confusion?crossed his face before he frowned and looked away.
His glance was enough. Someone noticed me staring and a ripple of laughter spread through the group, their voices deliberately loud.
"Isn't that the broke girl who's obsessed with Ethan? Stare all you want, honey, he'll never like you. He's with Madison, our school's queen bee, now!"
Those words. They were a poisoned dart from my past, hitting me with the force of a memory I had already lived.
I was reborn. The realization sent a tremor through my entire body. It wasn't fear. It was pure, electrifying adrenaline.
In my last life, the rumor that I was pathetically in love with Ethan had made me a social pariah. I thought if I just kept my head down, it would all blow over. But living it all again, I finally understood: Ethan had orchestrated everything. He paraded around as a wealthy heir, enjoying the same privileges I did, while secretly painting me as a desperate gold digger.
"She's crazy about me, practically begs for my attention," he'd say with a put-upon sigh. "What can I do? We're classmates. I don't want to be cruel."
And just like that, the fact that we arrived and left school in the same luxury car every day was twisted into something ugly. It wasn't my family's car; it was his, and he was just taking pity on me.
I, the heiress, became the gold digger.
And he, the driver's son, became the heir.
He lived off my family's generosity, yet he despised us with every fiber of his being. The money my father spent on his education could have funded scholarships for a hundred deserving students, but for him, it was never enough. Gratitude wasn't in his vocabulary.
My fingers flew across my phone's screen.
"Starting today, no outsiders are allowed in any of the Sterling family properties. If any of the staff can't handle a simple thing like gate security, they can pack their bags and leave."
Let's see you host your villa party now, Ethan.
He and his parents had first come to our home when we were in high school. The three of them stood before my father, bowing and scraping.
"Thank you, Mr. Sterling, for sponsoring our son's education! We'll work hard to repay your kindness!"
Ethan's father, John, was our driver. His mother, Linda, was our housekeeper. When they heard my father was looking to sponsor a student, they begged him to choose Ethan. My father, ever the philanthropist, agreed. Ethan had good grades; he was a smart kid.
It was supposed to be a simple act of charity. Instead, it was the beginning of my nightmare.
Ethan moved into our house, living a life identical to mine. Soon after, the rumors started at school: I was obsessed with him. He was the rich kid with the chauffeured car, and I was the charity case who didn't know her place.
I tried to set the record straight, but Ethan talked me out of it. "It's just gossip," he'd said, his voice smooth and reasonable. "Let it go. Do you really want people to think you're some rich bitch who throws her family's money around?"
"Just focus on your studies," he'd urged. "That's what's important."
So I buried the hurt and confusion. My parents were always busy with work, rarely home. I listened to Ethan and threw myself into my schoolwork.
But just as I fought my way to the top of the class, our family's valuables began to disappear. I wanted to call the police, but Ethan stopped me.
"Just wait until your dad gets back," he'd insisted. "Calling the cops is a huge hassle, and you have school to worry about."
I didn't call them. But at school, the rumors escalated. Now, I was actively trying to seduce him, a desperate attempt to marry into his "wealthy" family.
The other students started to isolate me. Madison, Ethan's beautiful and popular girlfriend, made it her mission to torment me. I was locked in bathroom stalls, had drinks "accidentally" poured on me in the hallways.
I knew, deep down, that Ethan was behind it all.
By the time my parents returned and saw the shell I'd become, I had been diagnosed with severe clinical depression. They were ready to confront Ethan, to tear him and his family apart. But before they could, the final blow came. John, our "loyal" driver, had leaked our company's most sensitive data to our fiercest competitor.
We were ruined. My family was thrown out onto the street.
One rainy night, we were dragged into a lightless alley and beaten to death by strangers. But just before I died, I saw him. Ethan, dressed in a designer suit, looking down at us with a cold smile. "I can't stand you rich people," he spat. "You all got exactly what you deserve."
The killers were hired psychopaths. They took Ethan's money and walked away, free.
The memory of that agony, that burning injustice, made my eyes sting with tears.
Ethan, I thought, my hands clenching into fists. Just you wait. I will never let you get away with it again.
With my orders in place, Ethans villa party was dead on arrival. The other staff knew who signed their paychecks, and it wasnt a Clarkit was a Sterling.
By the afternoon, the news reached Ethan, and he was livid. I could feel his furious glare burning into the back of my head all through class. My phone buzzed incessantly.
Sophie, are you doing this on purpose? What the hell is your problem?!
Your dad promised to pay for everything! Are you going back on his word?!
I already promised everyone! If you don't let this happen, you can be the one to tell them why!
I scrolled through a dozen more messages just like it before silencing my phone and shutting it off.
Ethan was seething, but he didn't have the guts to confront me himself. He sent his pitbull instead.
The moment the bell rang, Madison stormed into our classroom. After a few whispered words from Ethan, she marched straight to my desk, her hand raised to slap me.
"You just can't give up, can you? Still trying to get your claws into my boyfriend!" she shrieked. "You were so scared people would find out you live in the servant's quarters that you made him cancel his party!"
"You're insane, Sophie! Threatening to kill yourself for attention? Are you that pathetic?!"
Madison's voice was like a megaphone. The entire classroom fell silent, all eyes on me. Some looked at me with pity, others with open contempt and mockery.
Only Ethan kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in his desk.
I shot up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand inches from my face. As I opened my mouth to speak, Ethan finally moved. He wrapped his arms around Madison, pulling her back. He looked at me, his handsome face, framed by a designer haircut, a mask of confidence. But the words that came out of his mouth were pure poison.
"Maddy, don't..." he murmured, then raised his voice for the class to hear. "Hey everyone, I'm so sorry, but we'll have to postpone the party. Something... came up." He shot a glance at me, his eyes filled with fake helplessness and regret. "It has nothing to do with Sophie, so please don't jump to any conclusions."
Of course, that's exactly what they did. The other students exchanged knowing looks, their glares in my direction growing colder. Even Madison, held in his arms, was trembling with rage, as if I were the one who had wronged her.
He was a master at this, painting himself as the victim while making me the villain in every story.
It reminded me of the time he'd written me a love note. I'd turned him down flat, and without missing a beat, he'd asked Madison out the very next day. From the first day of school, we'd arrived together in my family's Rolls-Royce. Madison, convinced he was a wealthy heir, said yes immediately.
And that's when the rumors truly began, started by her and fueled by everyone else's gossip. My fate was sealed.
How utterly ridiculous. The driver's son became the prince, and the heiress became the gold digger.
And the most pathetic part? Everyone believed it.
Well, payback's a bitch. Ethan was petty and vindictive; I knew he wouldn't let this go.
I spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring the whispers and focusing on my work. When the final bell rang, he made his move. He strode ahead of me and, with an air of complete ownership, slid into the back of the Rolls-Royce.
He rolled down the window and looked at me with a condescending smirk.
"Well, get in," he said loudly. "They're waiting for us for dinner at home."
The way he said it, he sounded like the master of the house, and I was just someone he was graciously tolerating. I stared at him, saying nothing.
"Come on!" he snapped, raising his voice even more. Behind us, students were already starting to point and whisper. His father, John, sat in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead, pretending not to hear his son's disrespect.
I didn't move. With an annoyed huff, Ethan told his father to drive on.
As the car pulled away, I heard laughter behind me. I smiled, too.
I made a quick phone call, gave them my location, and waited quietly by the curb.
Suddenly, someone "accidentally" slammed into me from behind. As I stumbled to regain my balance, I heard a familiar, mocking laugh.
"No matter how hard you try to get my boyfriend's attention, he's never going to want a charity case like you," Madison sneered, puffing out her chest. Her long, curled hair bounced as she posed, a few of her cronies flanking her, all of them looking at me with undisguised scorn.
I didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Excuse me, you're in the way," I said calmly, my gaze shifting past her.
Madison was about to retort when her eyes widened. She turned, saw the gleaming black Bentley that had silently pulled up behind her, and immediately fell silent, shuffling to the side.
The chauffeur didn't even glance at her. He walked directly to me, bowed slightly, and opened the rear door in one fluid motion.
"Miss Sterling," he said, his voice respectful and professional. "Shall we go home?"
Madison's jaw dropped. Her friends stared, mouths agape. I stepped into the car without a backward glance. As the Bentley purred to life, she finally found her voice, her face flushing a deep, angry red.
"Sophie Sterling, who do you think you're fooling?!" she shrieked at the departing car. "Everyone knows you're broke! 'Miss Sterling'... what a joke!"
I tuned her out as we drove away. My family had more than one driver. If Ethan wanted to play pretend, I was more than happy to shatter his fantasy piece by piece.
In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of a familiar Rolls-Royce hiding awkwardly around the corner. The sight was so pathetic it was almost funny. Ethan and his father had been waiting, expecting me to come crawling to them. Seeing me leave in a Bentley had clearly sent them into a panic.
The Rolls-Royce tailed us sheepishly, not daring to overtake.
Seeing them follow, I took a screenshot of the dozen angry texts Ethan had sent me and forwarded them to my father. Then I met the new driver's eyes in the mirror.
"Evans," I said casually. "From now on, you'll be driving me to and from school every day. And John Clark is no longer permitted in the garage."
By the time we arrived home, John must have already received a call from my father's assistant. He scrambled out of the Rolls-Royce, his face a ghostly white, beads of sweat on his forehead. He bowed low as I stepped out of the Bentley.
"Miss Sterling, I am so sorry! I was wrong!"
Wrong about what? I glanced at the top of his bowed head, then caught sight of Ethan standing by the door, his fists clenched, his face a mask of humiliation. The sight made my smile widen.
"It's not like you're fired," I said, my voice sweet as poison. "I just think you've been working too hard. Why don't you take a few days off? Stay out of the garage, get some rest."
I walked past John's ashen face and into the villa without a second glance.
He couldn't handle this?
Oh, this was just the beginning.

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