The Undercover Heiress

Dad, they're calling you a geezer. And apparently, I'm your sugar baby.

I gripped the phone, pacing the hallway, indignant. First day on the job.

I am the legitimate heiress to the empire. Yet, the rumor mill has branded me a mistress. Meanwhile, an imposter decked out in knock-off designer gear is being hailed as the princess.

She didn't just hijack my identity. She just pointed a manicured finger at me and demanded coffee.

Hah.

Fine. Lets see how long she can keep this charade alive before it implodes.

Chapter 1

Graduation came and went. Then Thatchermy father, the Chairmanbanished me to the bottom of the corporate ladder.

"It builds character," he claimed, waving a hand dismissively. "Sharpen your steel."

I whined on the surface. Internally? I was craving the independence.

But the peace didn't last.

Day one. The whispers started before I even logged in.

"Heard Chairman Thatcher's daughter is in this intern batch."

"Ruthless," someone muttered near the water cooler. "Youd think Daddy's Little Girl would start in a corner office, not the bullpen with us peasants."

I was a bit surprised. Who leaked that? I scanned the room, paranoia spiking. But the gossip fizzled out as people returned to their screens.

Until the conference room door swung open.

A girl breezed in, fashionably late. "Hi everyone. I'm Tiffany."

A hush fell over the room.

"Tiffany" a guy in the front row whispered, eyes widening. "Tiffany Thatcher? The Chairman's daughter?"

The room erupted.

Tiffany stood there, soaking it in. She was dripping in labels. Head to toe in designer brands. And on her wrist? A brand new Cartier Ballon Bleu.

She looked every inch the heiress.

Tiffany ducked her head, a practiced shy smile playing on her lips. She dodged the direct question masterfully. "My father always taught me to keep a low profile," she said, voice soft. "I'm just here to fulfill his wish. Start from the bottom, right?"

"Classic old money," a girl next to me whispered, awestruck. "That aura? You can't buy that."

"Tiffany, don't forget us little people when the internship ends!"

My jaw practically hit the floor. Excuse me?

Im an only child. Since when did Thatcher sprout a second daughter?

The mix-up was logical, I guessed. I use my mothers maiden name as my surname. Tiffany shares the Chairmans surname. And she was the only one in the batch who did.

Now, she was the office celebrity. I watched her beam at the adoration. I didn't expose her. Not yet.

The circus continued until the door slammed. Cody, our department manager, marched in. The noise died instantly.

But something was off. I watched Codys body language. He looked at Tiffany with a deference he didn't show anyone else. A slight nod. A softer gaze.

Then he dropped the bomb.

"Tiffany is your new Intern Lead. She'll handle all communications from corporate."

My blood boiled. This was a dictatorship.

I stepped forward, voice steady. "Respectfully, shouldn't we vote on that? Equal opportunity and all?"

Cody sneered, turning his glare on me. "We don't have time for democracy. Tiffany has the strongest resume in the pile. She leads. End of discussion."

Strongest resume? I almost laughed out loud.

Chapter 2

Because last night, Thatcher had looked me dead in the eye.

"Sutton," hed said, voice full of pride. "Out of this entire intake, your resume is the sharpest. Youre going to set that place on fire."

So when Cody stood there lying through his teeth about Tiffanys credentials?

I didn't explode. I didn't flip the table. Just like I didn't expose Tiffanys fraudulent identity.

Not yet.

Some lies need to ferment. You have to let them get big and bloated before you pop them. Thats when the mess is most satisfying.

I wanted to see exactly what kind of game Tiffany was playing. But before I could even settle in to watch the show, she painted a target on my back.

Thud.

A stack of files, half as tall as me, slammed onto my desk. Dust motes danced in the aggressive wake.

Tiffany stood over me, chin tilted up, radiating arrogance. "Digitize all of this. Chronological order. I need it in my inbox before you clock in tomorrow."

She spun on her heel to leave, then paused, tossing a glance over her shoulder. "Oh, and grab me a coffee while you're at it."

The command hung in the air. Absolute entitlement. My brain short-circuited for a second.

"Can't you brew it yourself?" I shot back.

Even Thatcherthe man who owns the buildinghas never had the privilege of drinking coffee brewed by me.

"It's just a favor, Sutton. Why are you being so petty?"

Becky stepped forward, crossing her arms. The loyal minion defending her queen.

"Exactly," someone else chimed in. "Just a coffee. Hardly manual labor."

Suddenly, the air shifted. I was the villain. The difficult one.

I grabbed the empty mug from my desk and shoved it into Beckys hand. She fumbled, barely catching it against her blouse.

"Since it's such a small favor," I said, voice ice-cold. "Be my guest."

If you want to serve, go serve.

Beckys face went blotchy red. "Sutton! What is your problem? Its day one and youre already starting drama?"

"I didn't sign a contract to be a waitress," I snapped.

"You"

"Stop! Please!"

Tiffany jumped between us, eyes wide and glistening. The perfect martyr. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked Sutton. Please, guys, don't fight because of me. Id feel terrible."

She just stood there, looking aggrieved, as if she were the victim. I felt bile rise in my throat.

I didn't care about the coffee. I cared about the tone. That specific frequency of superiority that made my skin crawl.

Becky fanned her face, glaring at me. "I don't know how you got hired with that attitude. Refusing a simple task? Major red flag."

"I'm here to work," I said. "Not to kiss the ring."

Tiffany clapped her hands, forcing a bright, plastic smile. "Okay, how about this? Afternoon tea is on me! Everyone, please, lets just get back to work."

She slinked over to me. "Sutton don't be mad at me, okay?"

Her voice was syrup-thick. Sickening. I yanked my hand away like Id touched a hot stove.

I couldn't breathe in there. The air was too thick with perfume and bullshit. I stormed out and headed to the rooftop.

But on my way back down?

I froze in the stairwell. Voices. Hushed, frantic, intimate.

I peered through the gap in the railing. It was Cody. And Tiffany.

And they definitely weren't discussing quarterly projections.

Chapter 3

"That Sutton girl is a parasitic headache. She humiliated me this morning, and now shes openly defying me."

"Is that so?"

Cody didn't sound angry. He sounded hungry.

Through the crack in the door, I saw him press Tiffany into the shadows of the stairwell landing, his hands gripping her slender waist.

"Leave it to me," Cody murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Ill make sure shes gone before the internship is over."

Then, the talking stopped.

The silence was filled with the sickening sounds of intimacy. The friction of fabric. The distinct, guttural groan of a man thinking with the wrong head.

My skin crawled. A physical shiver raked down my spine, but I forced it down.

Hah.

I actually wanted to see them try.

The next morning, the ambush began.

I was summoned to Codys office before I even turned on my computer.

"Where is the digitization project?" Cody leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "If you can't complete basic administrative tasks, Sutton, maybe you don't have a future here."

I stared at him. I thought hed come up with something clever. A complex trap. This? This was amateur hour.

"Did Tiffany run to you with a complaint?" I asked, keeping my face blank.

"She reported the facts," Cody said, his eyes narrowing. "I am simply following due process."

Due process. Hilarious.

"Those files are fifteen years old," I said, my voice flat. "They were archived on the company intranet in 2009. A simple search would have told you that. There was no need to re-digitize them."

I spread my hands, raising an eyebrow. "Unless you've never actually used the company website, Cody?"

His face went from smug to blotchy red in a nanosecond. The flush crept up his neck like a rash. He stammered. The air left his lungs.

"I Of course I have! I was I was testing your attitude! It was a stress test!"

God, the ego on this man. He was scrambling to save face, and it was painful to watch.

I didn't push it. I wanted to win this internship on merit, not by nuking the manager on day two.

Cody cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. Regaining composure. "I also heard you had friction with colleagues yesterday."

He put on his 'mentor' face. "I know you don't like my management style, Sutton. But in the real world, things aren't always fair. You're young. You have a lot to learn about hierarchy."

If I hadn't seen him dry-humping the 'colleague' in the stairwell yesterday, I might have actually believed he was giving me advice.

I walked out of his office, rolling my eyes. But the drama wasn't over.

As I approached the bullpen, I saw a crowd gathered around my desk. Becky was in the center, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass.

"Some people have absolutely no shame! Acting all high and mighty, pretending to be better than us, while doing dirty shit behind our backs!"

"Becky, stop, please!" Tiffany grabbed Beckys arm, her face a mask of pained innocence. "We're all colleagues. Maybe Sutton was just curious. Maybe she just borrowed it to look at it."

"A thief is a thief, Tiff! Stop being so nice!"

Thief?

My blood pressure spiked. I shoved my way through the wall of interns.

Chapter 4

Becky wasn't letting go. "Sutton, you stole Tiffany's Cartier. And you have the nerve to just sit there?"

I froze.

My jewelry box at home has a whole row of Cartiers. Why would I steal a basic model?

"Did you see me take it?" I asked, voice steady. "Don't talk trash without proof."

"Then open your drawer! Let everyone see!"

Tiffany stepped forward, playing her role to perfection. "Sutton if you really wanted the watch, I could have just bought you a new one." Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. "But that one it was a keepsake from my mother. It means everything to me."

Wow. Shes good. Ill give her that.

Between Beckys aggression and Tiffanys sob story, they had successfully painted me as the villain.

I stared at my desk. I knew exactly what I would find.

The drawers lock, sure. But Cody has the master key. And considering what I saw in the stairwell, handing over a key to Tiffany was probably foreplay for them.

Becky smirked, seeing my hesitation. "What's the matter? Guilty? Thief!"

I glanced up. Hidden in the corner of the ceiling, a tiny red light blinked.

Gotcha.

"Whoever stole it knows exactly who they are," I said, cold and loud.

I yanked the drawer open. Clack.

There it was. A Cartier Ballon Bleu, nestled among my pens.

Becky lunged, snatching the watch before I could touch it. "Tiffany! Look! Is this it?"

Tiffany gasped, clutching it to her chest like a lost child. "Yes! That's it! Oh my god, Sutton how could you?"

She looked at me with watery, doe-like eyes. The office murmured. Sympathy for the heiress. Disgust for the thief.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Your watch, huh? The one with my name engraved on the side?"

The room went dead silent. Becky froze. Tiffany blinked, the tears stopping instantly.

Everyone leaned in, squinting at the steel case.

Half a month ago, on my birthday, a sycophant from my college classes tried to buy my friendship with a custom Cartier. I didn't want it. I have too many.

So I listed it on Poshmark.

I remembered the buyer. Someone local. Someone who haggled me down for three days straight until I got annoyed and just knocked off the odd change just to get rid of it.

I looked at Tiffany. The buyer was her.

"Since when is 'S.T.' your monogram?" I asked, raising a brow. "Last I checked, your initials are T.T."

Becky scrambled for a defense. "Who says S.T. stands for you? That could be anyone's initials! Stop trying to deflect!"

She pointed a finger at my nose. "We found the stolen goods in your desk. We have witnesses. You're done."

"If you're so sure," I said, pulling out my phone. "Let's check the tape."

I pointed at the ceiling. "Every office in this building has 4K surveillance. Audio included. Did you guys miss that during orientation?"

The blood drained from Beckys face. Tiffanys grip on the watch tightened until her knuckles turned white.

They didn't know.

"Shall I call the cops?" I tapped the screen, thumb hovering over the dial button. "Let's let the NYPD figure out whose fingerprints are on the drawer lock."

Becky took a step back, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Suddenly, the doors flew open.

"What is going on here? Why is it so loud?"

Cody stormed in.

Chapter 5