The Billionaire Fell For the Ghostwriter

I was the ultimate ghostwriter for a billionaire's daughter. Bianca got to look gorgeous and live her best life, while I spent my days and nights replying to her endless stream of suitors.

The desperate simps? I'd ignore them for three hours, then hit them with a dry cool.

The brooding, tragic boys? A two-hour delay, followed by a soft, "Sorry, been so busy."

The delusional narcissists? Instant block.

I had my system down to a science. Until I ran into a guy who defied every category. Not only was he completely unbothered, but he randomly sent cash gifts, shirtless gym selfies showcasing a perfect eight-pack, and face drops that belonged on a high-fashion runway.

Behind Bianca's profile, I couldn't resist. I fell deep into a thrilling, late-night exchange with him.

But all good things come to an end. Bianca suddenly announced her engagement to a wealthy heir and demanded I clear out her roster and hand over the work phone. Swallowing my tears, I cashed out the hundreds of thousands of dollars in commissions I'd accumulated over the past six months. Then, I cleanly deleted and blocked my favorite mystery guy, whispering a silent prayer: May our digital thread burn, and may we never, ever meet in the real world.

But fate is a cruel writer. Three days later, I was standing in a dim, exclusive VIP lounge with Bianca when we ran right into him.

The second Bianca spotted him, she leaned in, her voice hushed and urgent. "That's Dean Elton. His family just got back from London, and his standards are impossibly high. Keep your head down, Gwen. Don't breathe his way."

As I watched the heir march directly toward us with a thunderous look in his eyes, desperation clawed at my throat. "Too late," I whispered. "I already breathed his way..."

Bianca turned to glare at me, her eyes dripping with condescension. "Are you out of your mind, Gwen?"

"Someone like you belongs in the gutter with the rest of the trash. Dean Elton? You couldn't even dream of him in your wildest fantasies."

My mother was the Caldwell familys maid, and as her daughter, I had spent my entire life under Bianca's heel. In her eyes, I existed solely to serve her whims. She despised me. She had no idea that just a week ago, the untouchable Dean Eltonthe man she claimed was lightyears out of my leaguehad sent me a string of frantic, pouty messages because I hadn't replied in ten minutes, asking if I didn't love him anymore.

I swallowed the bitter irony rising in my throat and forced a meek, submissive smile. "I only meant... a man like him might find someone of my status offensive. I don't want to get in his way and make him angry."

Bianca let out a mocking laugh. "At least you know your place. Stand behind me then."

She shoved me backward. In the brief seconds it took to reposition myself, Dean had already reached us.

Bianca elegantly swept her freshly blown-out hair over her shoulder and offered him her most practiced, radiant smile. "Mr. Elton. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Bianca Caldwell."

Dean stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. "Finally meet?"

Bianca blinked, visibly thrown. "Have... have we met before?"

Deans gaze darkened.

Panic seized my chest. If this blew up right here, both of these powerful, ruthless people would destroy me. Thinking fast, I reached out and gently tugged at Bianca's sleeve. "Miss Bianca, your fianc is waiting for you in the private suite."

At the sound of my voice, Dean's sharp gaze immediately whipped over to me. His eyes were intense, heavy with scrutiny and a quiet, probing curiosity. I didn't dare meet his eyes. I kept my head bowed, staring at the polished floor, barely breathing.

Then, he let out a cold, dry chuckle. "Excuse me."

He brushed past us, carrying a frigid aura that made it clear we were nothing more than a minor annoyance. He walked away as if he really had just been passing through.

I watched his retreating figure, my heart hammering against my ribs. But before I could even draw a breath, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Biancas palm slammed into my face.

"You useless bitch!"

"Why did you bring up Wyatt in front of Dean? Are you blind? Couldn't you tell I was trying to make a connection with him?"

I cradled my throbbing, burning cheek. A sharp trickle of warmth told me one of the heavy crystals on Biancas manicured nails had sliced my skin. This pain was nothing new. Whenever Bianca was unhappy, her frustration was written on my skin. It had been this way since we were children.

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice low and deferential. "Im sorry, Miss Bianca. But you just got engaged to Wyatt. If rumors get out that youre chasing Dean Elton, it could ruin your familys reputation."

Bianca crossed her arms, her lip curling in disgust. "You idiot. If I could land Dean Elton, Wyatt Pendleton wouldn't even be worth the dirt on my shoes."

She paused, studying me from head to toe with sudden, venomous suspicion. "Wait. You didn't do that on purpose because you have a crush on him, did you?"

"Let me warn you, Gwen. If you try to pull any pathetic little tricks behind my back, I will call the hospital and have them pull the plug on your mother's ventilator by tonight."

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

If Bianca ever discovered that I had been virtually dating Dean Elton right under her nose, my mother wouldn't survive the week. I had only one path forward: I had to make Dean utterly loathe Bianca. I had to make her so repulsive to him that he wouldn't even bear to look at her face.

That night, sitting in the dark of my tiny room, I created a burner account on a messaging app. I typed in the phone number I knew by heartDean's private number.

I sent the friend request with just one word in the verification box:

[Babe.]

It was the pet name we used during our online romance. Simple, direct, and something he absolutely loved.

Given how icy he had been at the lounge, I didn't expect him to accept easily. But barely a second later, my phone vibrated. He was added to my friend list.

He accepted!

My heart leaped. I opened the chat box, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. After typing and erasing several drafts, I settled on a single, evocative line:

[Babe, I haven't stopped thinking about you.]

If I was going to play the villain, the first step was to reel him back in with devotion.

I waited and waited, but the message remained unanswered, sinking into the digital void. I began to wonder if he had only accepted the request by accident.

But before I could figure out a way to handle Dean, the next evening arrivedthe night of the Caldwell family's charity gala. As always, my role was to stand beside Bianca in the most plain, shapeless clothes imaginable. I was her contrast; my dowdiness made her shine brighter, and I was there to serve as her hands and feet.

"Bianca, you brought your little stray dog again?"

"Honestly, Im so jealous. It's impossible to find someone so obedient these days. The girl my dad hired for me is completely useless."

Biancas friends giggled, throwing superficial barbs at me right to my face, as if I were a piece of furniture rather than a human being.

Bianca smiled warmly, basking in their praise. "Well, loyalty is something you have to train from a young age. You can't just pick it up later."

The group erupted into quiet laughter. I kept my head lowered, pretending to be deaf and dumb. It was the only way to survive among these monsters. Finding his lack of reaction boring, they quickly drifted to a more exciting topic.

"I heard Dean Elton is actually showing up tonight."

At those words, both Bianca's eyes and mine flared with interest.

"Really? Do any of you know him well? Introduce us!" Bianca said, her voice laced with desperate eagerness.

Her friends shook their heads with sighs of disappointment. But out of their line of sight, I had already slipped my phone from my pocket and typed out a message to Dean:

[Babe, are you coming to the gala tonight?]

[Its so wonderful that Ill get to see you again.]

[Its my fault... Im trapped by this family arrangement, unable to speak to you. I can only watch you from afar. Babe, I love you so much, but we have to pretend to be strangers. Its breaking my heart.]

This time, Dean replied almost instantly. But his words had none of their former warmth:

[So, you want me to be your side piece?]

My hand shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. Before I could formulate a reply, gasps echoed from the grand entrance of the ballroom.

"Dean is here."

He strolled in alongside a friend, wearing a relaxed, tailored suit, chatting casually with an easy, effortless air. Most of the room turned to watch him, but his eyes didn't linger on anyoneuntil he approached our circle.

His dark, piercing gaze landed directly on Bianca. Usually so arrogant and self-assured, she blushed instantly under his look. But a second later, Deans eyes shifted and locked onto me.

The intense, probing look from the lounge was back, striking my chest like a physical blow. My heart hammered wildly. He and his friend soon headed up toward the private suites on the mezzanine, but that single look had already stirred up a storm.

"Did you see that? Dean looked at me!" Bianca squealed, clutching her friend's arm. "He definitely wants to get to know me."

But one of her friends smirked, casting a malicious glance in my direction. "Actually, Bianca, it looked like he was staring at Gwen for a solid few seconds."

Bianca's smile vanished. She subtly reached out, digging her sharp, acrylic nails deep into the tender flesh of my upper arm.

"Why weren't you standing behind me like you were supposed to?" she hissed under her breath. "Do you honestly think a man like Dean Elton would ever look at a piece of garbage like you?"

Wincing at the sharp pain, I forced my voice to remain even. "Miss Bianca, he definitely wasn't looking at me because of that. Look at what I'm wearing. I stick out like a sore thumb. You all look beautiful. I look like a peasant. He was probably just confused by why someone dressed like this is even here. Please don't misunderstand."

Bianca scrutinized my washed-out, oversized t-shirt and faded jeans. My face was bare of makeup, marred by the fake freckles and mock scars she forced me to wear to hide my features. I looked worse than the catering staff. Satisfied, she finally let go of my arm.

"True. You look like a freak. It's natural people would stare."

Ever since she found a love letter from a boy in my backpack back in high school, Bianca had forced me to make myself ugly. Even though she hadn't cared about the boy, she couldn't tolerate anyone preferring me over her.

My arm was already beginning to bruise, but inside, a much darker storm was brewing. I pulled out my phone and sent a deliberately toxic reply to Dean:

[Would that be so bad?]

[Babe, you love me so much. Wouldn't you be willing to be my secret for a little while?]

[Don't worry. Once I'm married, I'll give you Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. He can have the rest. Deal?]

Asking a proud, old-money heir to be a secret side piece was perhaps the greatest insult he could ever receive. I didn't have wealth or power, but from my dark little corner, I could chew away at the foundations of Biancas life like a mouse gnawing on a support beam. I would take away everything she ever wanted.

When the gala ended, Bianca lingered by the grand foyer, clearly waiting for someone. Finally, when most of the guests had departed, the man she was waiting for descended the spiral staircase.

Biancas eyes lit up, and she took an eager step forward. But before she could utter a single word, Dean uttered a single, frigid command:

"Move."

He didn't even grant her a glance.

Biancas hand froze mid-air, her face flushing crimson as a wave of sheer humiliation washed over her. I kept my head bowed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing aloud. The insult had clearly stung Dean to his core, and it was working perfectly. But this was only the beginning.

Later that night, I visited the hospital to see my mother. She lay motionless on the bed, deep in a vegetative state, unable to hear my voice. But I clung to the belief that she would wake up one day. She just needed time. I had saved enough money. I was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from Bianca's grasp forever.

My thoughts were interrupted by the harsh ring of my phone. Biancas name flashed on the screen.

"Where the hell are you?" she demanded.

Hiding my hatred, I kept my voice soft. "I'm at the hospital."

"Ugh, why do you waste your time on that vegetable? The Caldwell family pays for her room anyway. Honestly, it's pathetic."

She tossed out the cruel words so casually it made my stomach turn. If it weren't for her obsession with perfection, my mother wouldn't be in this bed. Bianca had forced my mother to climb onto a high window ledge in the blistering summer heat just to wipe away a microscopic smudge. She had threatened to fire her if it wasn't spotless, leaving my mother out there for two hours until she fainted from heatstroke and fell. Bianca treated the medical bills like a generous act of charity, completely ignoring that she was the architect of our tragedy.

My lips trembled with suppressed rage.

Bianca continued, completely oblivious. "Tomorrow is Wyatt's birthday. Go to the Norton Hotel first thing in the morning. Book their top penthouse suite and decorate it. I want to give him a surprise."

She hung up without waiting for my reply. She knew I would obey like a well-trained dog. But she forgot that even the gentlest dog will bite when backed into a corner.

The next day, Bianca didn't make me tag along for her date with Wyatt. But I watched them from the shadows. I watched them arrive at the hotel, kissing passionately outside the door before disappearing inside. Once the door clicked shut, I stepped out from the corner, placed a spare room key on the hallway floor, and took a photo.

I messaged Dean:

[Babe, I was only joking yesterday. How could I ever let you be a side piece?]

[Ive decided to fight my family. Even if I have to give up my inheritance, I want to be with you!]

[But before I do, can we please see each other? Without you, I don't think I have the courage to go through with this. Please. I love you.]

The message went through. I knew he wouldn't block me. During our online relationship, Dean had never been this cold or aloof. It's only when someone is genuinely invested that they reveal their softest, most vulnerable sides. I was betting that Dean still cared.

I retreated back into the shadow of the corridor, waiting to see if my gamble would pay off. Thirty minutes later, the quiet ding of the elevator echoed through the hall. Someone stepped out.

I watched him walk down the hall toward suite 1880. He picked up the keycard I had left on the floor, swiped it, and pushed the door open. Immediately, the muffled sounds of passion spilled into the quiet corridor.

He stepped inside. A moment later, Biancas terrified shriek pierced the air.

"Ah! Who are you?!"

"Dean?!"

Hearing those words, a dark, victorious smile spread across my face. My gamble had paid off flawlessly. Dean emerged from the room moments later, his face dark with fury, looking like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He strode toward the elevator, but just before entering, he cast a sharp look toward the corner where I was hiding.

My heart stopped. I shrank back into the shadows. Fortunately, it was only a brief glance, and he stepped into the elevator and disappeared.

By the time Bianca ran out into the hallway, wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe, Dean was long gone. She bit her lip, panic coloring her voice. "Why on earth was Dean Elton here?"

Wyatt followed her out, adjusting his shirt. He looked at her frantic expression and frowned. "What are you so freaked out about? You look like we just got caught cheating."

Bianca stiffened, quickly forced a smile, and wrapped her arms around Wyatt's neck. "Im just worried about making a bad impression. Doesn't your family have a major business deal with the Eltons coming up? I was just thinking of our future."

Wyatts suspicion melted. He pulled her close. "I didn't know you cared so much about my business. Don't worry, Dean's a guy. He's seen plenty of this stuff. He won't care."

He pulled her back into the room. Seeing Biancas submissive expression, I felt a wave of disgust, recalling how she had sneered at Wyatt in the lounge. The Caldwell family's finances were failing, and they desperately needed this marriage. Wyatt was her lifeline, which was why she had shut down her digital roster to focus on him. But now, with Dean in the picture, her greed had taken over. Could she really balance on two ships at once? Dean's ship had already sailed, and I was going to make sure Wyatt's ship sank too.

As I walked out of the hotel, my mind raced with plans to expose Bianca's infidelity to Wyatt. Lost in thought, I crashed straight into a firm, warm chest.

"Im so sorry," I stammered, looking up.

I froze. It was Dean. He stepped back, looking down at a cigarette that had fallen from his hand to the floor, his brow furrowed in annoyance. I knew he was in a terrible mood, and crossing him now would be dangerous. "Mr. Elton, I am so, so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. What brand do you smoke? I'll replace them right away."

Dean didn't answer. He just stared down at me, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. I felt a chill run down my spine under his intense gaze. "Mr. Elton? Is that okay?" I whispered.

His voice was low and cold when he finally spoke. "You're Bianca's shadow, aren't you?"

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."

"And you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes. If you don't want cigarettes, I can do anything else."

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Dean's lips. "Anything?"

He tilted his head toward the upper floors of the hotel. "Your boss just humiliated me by pretending to be my girl. If you help me ruin her, we'll call it even. Can you do that?"