Only My Billionaire Knows The Truth

Eight boyfriends. Eight sudden, panicked exits.

Every single time a relationship crept toward something real, my cousin Courtney would quietly slip them a single text: Just a heads-up about my cousinshe has a history of severe mental instability. Be careful.

I was completely in the dark.

Until the ninth guy didnt run. He sat me down and told me himself.

I still had all eight of my exes on my contact list. After calling each one to confirm the devastating truth, I demanded they send me screenshots of the message Courtney had sent them.

Now, at Courtneys engagement party, she was gliding through the room, her arm looped tightly through Dustin'smy eighth ex.

Our relatives were practically swooning over him.

My aunt Sharon patted Courtneys hand, then turned her sharp eyes on me. "Quanna, you really need to start taking notes. Look at your cousin. She actually knows how to choose a man."

I forced a tight, empty smile. "You're right, Aunt Sharon. I should definitely learn a thing or two."

I stood up, picked up my champagne glass, and walked straight toward Courtney.

"Hey, Courtney," I said, my voice cutting through the chatter. "Theres something Ive been dying to ask. When you sent them that text, what exactly was going through your head?"

"Quanna, what on earth are you talking about?" Courtneys perfect smile faltered, her eyes darting to my hands.

I turned my phone screen toward the crowd, displaying the screenshots.

"You really have a gift, Courtney," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the roar in my ears. "Sifting through my boyfriends to find the best of the bunch. Dustin is a great guy. Congratulations."

Whispers erupted around the table.

Courtney squinted at the screen, her expression instantly shifting from surprise to deep, solemn concern.

"Quanna, we tolerated your outbursts when we were kids, but this is my engagement party. How could you try to ruin this for us?" She turned to the rest of the family, her voice dripping with pity. "Honestly, AI deepfakes are getting so realistic these days. If you don't look closely, youd actually think this was real."

Aunt Sharons face darkened instantly. She turned a glare toward my mother.

"Helen, look at what you've raised. Is this a joke? How could she pull a stunt like this on today of all days?"

The room turned on me in a heartbeat.

"Shes just bitter because Dustin chose Courtney over her."

"So petty."

"Its not just petty. Its a character flaw."

I ignored them and looked directly at Dustin, my chest tightening. "Dustin. Tell them. Is that screenshot fake?"

Before Dustin could open his mouth, Courtney leaned in close to him, her voice a stage whisper. "Dustin, just say whatever keeps her calm. We don't want her to relapse."

Dustin looked at me, then took a distinct step backward, closer to Courtney.

"Quanna... look, if you say it's real, then it's real. Just... please don't get upset."

A cold rage washed over me. "Dustin, what is that supposed to mean? Tell them the truth!"

"Quanna," Courtney interrupted, stepping in front of him. "Dustin just realized the two of you weren't a match. He didn't want to force it. Why are you doing this?" She turned back to the family, sighs of exasperation rippling through the room. "You all know how she is. Ever since we were little, if she couldn't win, shed find a way to tear everything down. It's happening again."

She looked back at me, her tone gently patronizing. "You can't keep acting out like this, Quanna. Im only letting this go because you're my sister. Anyone else would have thrown you out by now."

The relatives shook their heads, murmuring in agreement.

"So immature."

"Thank goodness Courtney is the bigger person."

"I don't know how Helen puts up with her."

My mothers face was pale, her hands trembling. Seeing her like that made my head spin with anger. Without another word, I pulled up the other seven screenshots and forwarded them directly to the family group chat.

"It wasn't just Dustin!" I cried, my voice cracking. "Courtney sent the exact same message to every single one of them!"

Courtneys eyes widened slightly as her phone buzzed. But as she scrolled through the images, a slow, mocking smile crept onto her lips.

"Quanna, if you're going to forge evidence, at least try to make it believable. Look at this. Every single message is identical. Not a single word changed, not even a punctuation mark."

My heart sank.

She was incredibly calculating. She must have anticipated a day like this and used a standardized template for every single one of them, knowing the identical texts would make them look like a repetitive, poorly made copy.

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with malice. "Honestly, Quanna... eight men, and you couldn't keep a single one of them. Maybe it's time to stop blaming me and look at yourself." She patted my arm. "Don't lose hope, though. Work on your personality, and Im sure youll find someone eventually."

I had never been good with quick comebacks, and under the weight of her systematic gaslighting, the words choked in my throat. I stood there, mute and shaking.

Within minutes, several older uncles escorted me out of the private dining room.

Behind the heavy double doors, the sounds of laughter and warm toasts started up again. Outside, in the dimly lit hallway of the restaurant, I stood alone, shivering.

My mother walked out a moment later, her eyes red.

"Quanna," she whispered, pulling me into a hug. "You're my daughter. I know you'd never do something like that. Your cousin has always had a hundred different schemes running at once. Just stay away from her."

"Mom, I can't just let this go," I said, tears finally spilling over. "If I let her walk all over me, she wins. And you and Dad will never be able to hold your heads up around the family again."

"But what can you do?"

"I'll find a way."

The next morning, I began reaching out to my exes one by one. If I could get just one of them to stand up and tell the truth, Courtneys entire facade would crumble.

But to my horror, my messages wouldn't go through. One by one, they had blocked me.

The last ex, right before he blocked me, sent a single image.

It was a photo of me at the engagement party, standing wildly on top of one of the banquet tables, my arms flailing, looking like a literal madwoman.

My blood ran cold.

Courtney had beaten me to it. She was a master of manipulation; in the photo, the surrounding relatives had expressions of sheer horror and alarm painted on their faces. To anyone looking at it, the narrative was clear: the unstable cousin had finally snapped.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my keys, intending to drive straight to my aunt's house to confront Courtney, but my mother caught me at the door.

"I know my sister, Quanna," she said, her voice tight with worry. "And Courtney is just like her. You can't beat her at this game."

"Shes destroying my life, Mom! I can't just sit here!"

A dark shadow fell over my mothers face. "Do you know what Courtney whispered to me right before we left the restaurant yesterday? She said she and Dustin are meant to be, and she won't let anyone ruin her happiness. The look in her eyes... it terrified me. I'm scared of what she'll do next."

I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "I'm the one who should be doing something to her! What else can she possibly do?"

The answer came much faster than I expected.

When I walked into the office the next morning, my department manager called me into his room. "Quanna, we're going to have to let you go."

I stared at him, stunned. "What? Why?"

"Your role is client-facing, Quanna," he said, his tone entirely devoid of empathy. "We can't risk you frightening our accounts. You shouldn't have hidden your medical history from us." He cleared his throat. "We've already found a replacement."

Before I could even process the words, the door opened.

Courtney stepped into the room, wearing a sleek, professional blazer. "Don't worry, Quanna. I'll take good care of your accounts."

The room spun. My hands clenched into fists, and for a split second, I wanted nothing more than to lung across the desk and tear her apart. But I forced myself to freeze.

If I lost control now, a new photo would emerge. One far worse than the table incident.

She wanted me to go crazy. She was baiting me.

I turned on my heel and walked out, feeling like a bomb ticking down to zero.

When I got back to my apartment building, the nightmare followed me. My neighborspeople I had exchanged pleasantries with for yearsguiltily avoided my gaze, stepping back into their apartments when they saw me coming.

Then I saw the local community forum online.

The photo of me on the table had been uploaded, alongside a thread that was rapidly gaining traction.

Look at this girl. Dumped so many times she finally lost her mind at her cousin's engagement party.

Her name is Quanna Lin. Apparently, every guy she dates runs for the hills.

Why?

Word is she has a history of severe psychiatric issues.

Well, that explains it. Who'd want to deal with that?

I immediately went to the local precinct. "Officer, my cousin Courtney is defaming me online. I want to press charges."

But Courtney had covered her tracks perfectly. After a brief, superficial investigation, the police informed me that there was no digital paper trail linking the upload to her. They closed the case due to lack of evidence.

Just as the walls felt like they were completely closing in, Courtney came to find me.

She stood on my doorstep with a mysterious, satisfied smirk.

"Quanna, Im giving Dustin back to you. Hes all yours now."

I stared at her, immediately on guard. "What kind of game are you playing now?"

"Honestly, I only got close to Dustin to test him for you," she said, her voice smooth and dripping with mock sisterly love. "Youve always been so naive about men. Now that the test is over, I'm returning him. You don't have to thank me. That's just what family does."

I was speechless. I looked at the woman standing in front of me, wondering how someone could be so utterly devoid of a soul.

"Dustin will call you soon. Don't let him slip away this time."

With that, Courtney turned and walked down the hall. As I watched her retreating back, trying to figure out what her real angle was, my phone buzzed.

It was Jared. My ninth boyfriend.

"Quanna," he said, walking up the apartment stairs toward me, his phone in hand. "Look at what your cousin just sent me."

I took the phone. On the screen was a fresh message from Courtney:

[Youre incredibly brave. I already told you my cousin is unstable, and yet you're still seeing her?]