I Scammed The Billionaires

Three of New Yorks most powerful men are blocking my path to the boarding gate, and they look ready to burn the airport down.

The VIP corridor at JFK feels suddenly suffocating. Fitzgerald, the tech mogul who usually controls the stock market with a whisper, looks completely unhinged. His eyes are rimmed with a terrifying crimson as he snarls, "You scammed me out of my fortune, stole my heart, and think you can just leave?"

To his left, Kian is falling apart. The pop god who sells out stadiums is sobbing like a child, ruining his perfect skin, begging me to remember that I was his "sanctuary."

But its Jagger who moves first. The pro athlete lunges, his calloused fingers locking around my wrist like a manacle. "I quit the season for you," he growls, his breathing ragged against my ear. "You aren't going anywhere."

I look at the Holy Trinity of bachelors standing between me and Paris. My fingers graze the black titanium card in my pocketeight figures, tax-free. I flash them a smile that is equal parts sweet and poisonous.

"Sorry, boys," I whisper. "Goods sold. No refunds."

Chapter 1

Three Months Earlier

"All all of them?" Hailey's face twisted in confusion. She clearly hadn't expected me to clear the shelf.

I kept my expression deadpan. "Every single one."

She went silent. Her thumb hovered over her phone screen, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She was saying goodbye to her backup plans. Then, she remembered the money. She gritted her teeth and nodded. "Fine."

"Three guys. That will be six hundred dollars."

My brows knitted together. "The math isn't mathing. Shouldn't it be three hundred?"

A flash of guilt crossed Hailey's face, but she buried it under a layer of entitlement. "The other two are premium stock. One has a voice like an angel, the other has abs you could grate cheese on. You are getting a bargain."

I didn't waste breath arguing. I pulled up Venmo. Sent the cash.

Hailey confirmed the transfer and handed over the login credentials for the burner account she used to juggle them.

I didn't trust her. The second I logged in, I changed the password. Locked her out.

I looked up. The air glitched. The neon commentary was back, scrolling across my vision.

[OMG. Fallon, what are you doing? You can't just buy the entire harem!]

[This villainess has no shame. Six hundred bucks for the entire main cast? One of them is worth billions.]

[To be fair, the Heroine thinks they are all catfishes right now.]

[Poor Hailey. She is selling her lottery tickets to buy a birthday gift for that broke scholar, Dean.]

[Is the plot collapsing?]

I felt a smirk tugging at my lips. I ignored the floating text.

I tapped open the chat with Fitzgerald. I scrolled up, scanning the history. If the comments were right, this guy was the Crown Prince of the tech world. Old money meets Silicon Valley.

He was paranoid. Zero personal details. A ghost in the machine.

Hailey had been playing a game, too. She told him she was a student at the University. That she was a key researcher on Professor Stark's latest project.

She lied. Obviously. She pretended to be busy with lab work to excuse her slow replies while she flirted with the other two.

Fitzgerald was hooked on the project. He wanted in.

Hailey had panicked. She didn't know the first thing about the research. She'd just parroted a few sentences she'd overheard me say on the phone.

I smiled. Professor Stark was desperate for funding. And here was a whale, swimming right into my net.

I dragged the chat to the bottom. One message stood out.

[Saturday. 10 AM. Cloud Lounge. Meet me?]

Realization hit. That was why Hailey was desperate to sell. She couldn't show up. One question about the data and she would be exposed as a fraud.

I smiled. I typed a reply in her usual bubbly tone. [Sounds good.]

The air exploded with angry text.

[Fallon is such a snake! That invite wasn't for her!]

[Relax. Male Lead 1 won't fall for a girl like her.]

[Exactly. He likes the 'struggling but resilient innocent flower' type. Fallon looks like she charges by the hour.]

[I can't wait to see her get humiliated.]

[Betting five bucks his genius IQ clocks her immediately.]

My fingers drummed a rhythm on the screen. I laughed softly. So he liked the innocent, struggling student trope? I could play that role.

Saturday. 9:30 AM.

I chose a dress that had been washed a hundred times too many. The fabric was soft, faded, screaming 'genteel poverty'.

I straightened my hair until it hung like a curtain of black silk. Makeup? The kind that took forty minutes to look like I wasn't wearing any.

I sat by the window. I opened a file, pretending to read. The morning sun sliced through the glass, hitting my profile. It illuminated the fine, soft hairs on my cheek.

Ten minutes later.

Fitzgerald walked in. He was wearing a suit that cost more than my tuition. He stopped. He saw exactly what I wanted him to see.

Chapter 2

The caf was empty. He spotted me instantly.

Fitzgerald walked over, his stride confident but polite. "Apologies. I'm late."

I looked up at the sound of his voice. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I was early," I said softly. "Mr. Fitzgerald. Please, sit."

His breath hitched. A flicker of genuine surprise lit up his eyes. It vanished as quickly as it came.

He chose his words carefully. "You feel different than I expected."

My heart skipped a beat. I kept my face smooth. "Different how?"

"More real, perhaps," he said, smooth as silk.

I smiled, neither confirming nor denying. "Fallon. Just call me Fallon."

Hailey had never given him a real name. She'd hidden behind a screen handle.

He nodded. Then, he slid a velvet box across the table. He flipped it open. A diamond necklace. Blinding.

My gaze locked onto it.

"A small gift," he said, his voice neutral.

I stared. My fingers twitched. Every instinct screamed at me to grab it. I forced myself to breathe. I slid the box back.

I looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry. I can't accept this. I'm broke, but I don't take handouts. I'll buy my own diamonds one day."

A glint of appreciation sparked in his eyes. He snapped the box shut. He didn't argue. "My mistake. I didn't mean to offend."

The snap of the lid was the sound of my heart breaking. My eyes cleared. Inside, I was screaming.

[He didn't even realize she's a fake? Disappointing.]

[Fallon is playing the long game. Turning down a six-figure necklace? She's hunting bigger prey.]

[She knows it's a test. Fitzgerald hates gold diggers. If she took it, he'd ghost her.]

[Scheming witch. Let's see how long she can keep the mask on.]

The comments were right. I wasn't here for jewelry. I was here for the empire.

We chatted. His eyes drifted to the papers I'd been 'studying'. "What's that?"

I pretended to be surprised. "Just some data from the project. Checking for anomalies."

He asked a question. Then another. I opened up. I walked him through the data.

Two hours later. He still hadn't mentioned funding.

I didn't push. When we stood up, I beat him to the counter. I paid the bill. Two coffees. Thirty dollars. Plus the six hundred I'd paid Hailey.

I would get every cent back. With interest.

Millions in investment capital wasn't pocket change. He wasn't going to hand it over after one coffee date. I needed to escalate.

Outside, my phone buzzed. Fish number two.

Kian: [Baby. I just mastered souffl. Want to come over and taste test?]

I hated sweets. But a pop star? He had to be loaded.

I didn't hesitate. [Absolutely.]

Kian was thrilled. He sent an address immediately.

Three days. Game on.

Chapter 3

The comments were spiraling into a collective mental breakdown.

[OMG. Is the Villainess seriously going to defile Male Lead 2? I'm actually shaking.]

[He is the ultimate Malewife! He cooks, he cleans, he's a literal pop god. He belongs to Hailey!]

[Hailey is way too paranoid. Kian told her exactly who he was, but she didn't believe him. Now Fallon is swooping in like a vulture.]

[Relax. Kian won't fall for Fallon. His type is strictly the 'Femme Fatale' aesthetic. Mature. Dangerous.]

[Exactly. Fallon is going to get rejected at the door.]

I flicked a strand of hair behind my shoulder. Femme Fatale? Challenge accepted.

That afternoon, I booked a salon chair. I traded my straight, innocent locks for voluminous, cascading waves.

Then, I went shopping. I bought a slip dress in blood-red silk. It clung. It moved like liquid over my skin, outlining every curve, leaving nothingand everythingto the imagination.

I checked the mirror. Lethal.

I strapped on my stilettos and headed to the address Kian had sent. It was a penthouse in the city center. Of course it was. I knocked.

Three seconds later. The door swung open.

Kian stood there, radiating pure, manufactured boyish charm. Loose white tee. Grey sweatpants. A few strands of hair falling 'messily' over his forehead.

It looked effortless. It wasn't. That 'I just woke up like this' look took hours to perfect.

I curved my lips into a smile. Confident. Predatory. "Hi, Kian."

The tips of his ears turned a violent shade of crimson. His gaze darted away, unable to hold mine. "I I got you slippers," he murmured.

Heels were a hazard on polished marble. There was no bench. Without hesitation, the pop idol dropped to his knees.

His hand wrapped around my ankle. His palm was scorching. Damp with nerves.

The contact burned. His thumb grazed the delicate bone of my ankle, sending a microscopic jolt of electricity shooting up my calf. Time stretched. The air in the hallway grew heavy, thick with unsaid things.

He lingered a second too long before sliding the slipper on.

Kian stood up, exhaling a shaky breath. "Come in," he said, guiding me toward the living room.

He was walking strangely. Stiff. Hunched slightly forward. Like he was trying to hide something.

My gaze dropped. Involuntarily. Yep. The internet rumors about grey sweatpants? They weren't lying.

The dining table was groaning under the weight of the food. It wasn't just souffl. There were seven or eight complex, high-effort dishes.

Kian served me. He de-shelled the shrimp. He filled my glass. He didn't say a word about the hours of prep this must have taken.

The comments were right about one thing. His 'Acts of Service' game was S-tier.

After dinner, he placed a bowl of washed fruit in front of me and went to tackle the dishes. I watched his back muscles shift under the thin white cotton of his shirt.

I started humming. I'm tone-deaf. Truly terrible.

But Kian froze. He spun around, water dripping from his hands, eyes wide with disbelief. "Is that 'White Noise'?"

I didn't answer. I just gave him a slow, dazzling smile.

Singing a hit song means you listen to the radio. Knowing the deep cuts? The B-sides that never charted? That means you're obsessed.

I had studied his chat logs with Hailey. Hailey thought he was a liar. She treated him like a spam bot. She never asked about his music. She never validated his art.

Kian hid it well, but that rejection had to sting. By humming that one melody, I just bypassed his defenses and hot-wired his ego.

The comments were screaming.

[I can't watch this. She is manipulating him so hard! How does she know his discography??]

[He is so easy. One B-side track and he's ready to propose.]

[I am going to throw up. I need her exposed. Now.]

[Are they blind? How do they not see she isn't the girl from the chat? Why are they folding so fast?!]

[Fallon is evil. Identity theft is not a joke, Jim!]

Chapter 4

The comments were seething. They hated me. They couldn't stop me. It was intoxicating.

Kian finished up in the kitchen and sat beside me on the couch. He left a respectful gap between us. A gentleman's distance.

He frowned slightly. "Your voice it sounds different than before."

I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs.

Kian's eyes narrowed. He caught the shift in my demeanor instantly. "Baby, are you hiding something from me?"

The comments erupted in glee.

[Is he figuring it out? Yes!]

[Finally! I knew it. True love sees through the disguise!]

[Karma is coming for her. Grab the popcorn.]

[Thank god. I need to see her get wrecked.]

I lowered my gaze. My lashes fluttered, casting shadows on my cheeks. I let a perfect, fragile sadness wash over my face. "Kian. I'm sorry. I lied to you."

He stiffened. His right hand trembled slightly on his knee. He forced a calm he clearly didn't feel. "Lied about what?"

I let my voice crack. Just enough. "On your birthday the song I sang for you? I asked my roommate to sing it."

"I'm sorry. I'm tone-deaf. I was terrified you'd hate me if you knew, so I"

Kian let out a breath he'd been holding for ten seconds. The tension drained out of him. He pulled me into a hug, relief flooding his voice. "Is that all?"

"God, Fallon. I don't care about that. I don't care at all."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like fresh mint and expensive soap. I smiled against his skin. Idiot. So easy.

I wrapped one arm around his waist. My other hand drifted, 'accidentally', to his stomach. I felt the muscles jump under my palm. Hard. Defined.

Kian's ears turned scarlet. His body reacted instantly. He couldn't help it. A low, strangled groan escaped his throat.

I looked up, eyes wide and innocent. "Baby? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He looked down at me. He saw only concern. He told himself he was imagining things. She didn't mean to touch him there. It was an accident. But god, it felt good.

Kian was sweet. Before he drove me back to campus, he saw the rain starting. He insisted I wear one of his hoodies. It was oversized, soft, and smelled like him.

He was careful. Sunglasses. Mask. Cap. The full celebrity disguise. He watched me walk through the campus gates before he drove off.

I turned around. Hailey was standing there. Her eyes were narrowed, scanning me like a barcode. "Fallon," she demanded, suspicion dripping from her voice. "Who was that guy?"

I gave her a serene smile. "Guess."

"Fitzgerald?" Her curiosity spiked. "Is he hot? Is he loaded?"

Oh, absolutely. But I wasn't sharing.

I looked at her, calm and collected. "Regretting the sale?"

Hailey stomped her foot. "No way! My heart belongs to Dean. Who knows what kind of weirdos you meet online anyway"

She stopped. She realized she'd just insulted the merchandise she sold me. She spun around and marched off, guilt radiating off her back.

The comments were furious on her behalf.

[Fallon is pure evil. She knows they are catches and she's gatekeeping!]

[She is literally stealing Hailey's destiny.]

[Disgusting. They won't love her for real. She's going to crash and burn.]

Is that so? Well then. I guess I'd better work harder. I needed to hook every single one of them. Otherwise, I'd be letting the haters down.

I got back to my dorm. My phone pinged. A notification from Venmo. $50,000 from Kian.

I accepted it without a shred of guilt. I typed out a sugary reply: [Thanks, baby~]

Kian, fully hooked and reeling: [Think of me.]

Me: [Every second. <3]

Chapter 5

One down.

My phone buzzed again. I looked at the caller ID. Fitzgerald.

I raised an eyebrow. His voice was impossible to read. "Who dropped you off at campus?"

I knew exactly what he was doing. I kept my cool. "Who do you think it was?"

Silence on the other end. I let out a soft laugh. "You're jealous."

The comments had said the Male Leads were all inexperienced. Pure. Fitzgerald probably didn't even realize he was spiraling. But this call? It was a confession.

His breathing hitched. Heavy. Ragged. He was about to snap.

I defused the bomb. Casually. "That was my brother."

The tension on the line evaporated instantly. "Oh," he said. He tried to sound indifferent, but the relief was palpable. "Okay."

Click.

Two days later. Professor Stark called me. "Fallon! Incredible work. I had no idea you had connections with Fitzgerald from Apex Tech!"

"He just wired twenty million for the project. Our funding issues are history. You have to come over for dinner sometime."

I stared at the phone. Twenty million? Done. I had what I wanted. There was no reason to keep playing Fitzgerald's game.

He was too smart. Too dangerous. If I stayed, he'd figure me out. So, I nuked the bridge.

I called him back. He picked up on the first ring. I didn't give him a chance to speak. I launched my attack, voice trembling with fake outrage.

"You're the CEO of Apex Tech?"

"Fitzgerald, did you hide who you were because you thought I was a gold digger? Not everyone is after your money. I certainly wasn't."

"Take your investment back. I don't need pity from someone who doesn't trust me! And don't contact me again."

Panic. Pure panic in his voice. "Fallon, no. That's not it at all."

"Then why lie?"

He froze. He couldn't answer. In his world, trust was a liability. He always had a backup plan. He always kept his cards hidden. It was how he survived.

But right now? He regretted everything.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he spoke. His voice was broken. "I'm sorry. I swear, I will never hide anything from you again."

I let out a sob. "I need time to think," I choked out. "Let's not talk for a while."

"How long?" he asked, desperation leaking through.

I sniffled. "I don't know. Don't push me. Please."

Silence again. Then, a whisper. Defeated. "Okay."

I hung up. I wiped the tears from my face. My expression went blank. I started humming a happy little tune and skipped to the bathroom.

The comments were in shock.

[She gaslit him so hard. That was masterclass manipulation.]

[She is actually heartless. She got the money and dumped him like trash.]

[Why do I feel bad for him? He's a billionaire!]

[Hailey doesn't stand a chance against this. Fallon is a monster. I need him to find out the truth.]

I showered, feeling fresh and victorious. I lay on my dorm bed and finally opened the chat log for Fish Number Three. Jagger.

The star athlete. They didn't talk much. He was always training. Mostly just random updates.

And one photo. Sent 'accidentally', of course. Abs. Six of them. High definition.

Chapter 6

Bronzed skin. Water droplets tracing the sharp V-line of his hips, disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. The sexual tension was a physical weight.

His last message: [Training camp is hell. But I'm almost done. Can I see you when I get out?]

I smirked. [Waiting for you.]

Fitzgerald kept his word. He didn't call. He didn't visit.

But my bank account? It pinged with seven-figure transfers. Again. And again. We had an unspoken agreement. He didn't ask questions. I didn't offer answers.

Every morning, fresh flowers arrived. Sometimes jewelry. Sometimes limited-edition bags.

I had already secured the investment for the project. The gifts? The cash? I took them all. Guilt-free.

Hailey watched me unbox a Herms bag, her voice dripping with acid. "You're really good at this, aren't you? Manipulating men into funding your lifestyle."

I smiled. "Better than you, apparently."

The comments exploded.

[I am literally shaking. She has no shame! Those gifts belong to Hailey!]

[She stole everything. The money, the men, the life. And she's smug about it!]

[Just wait. When they find out, they will destroy her.]

Maybe. But right now? I was living the dream. Spending Fitzgerald's money by day. Eating Kian's Michelin-star dinners by night.

Kian was perfect. He cooked. He cleaned. He gave foot massages that made my toes curl.

The only problem? He was too pure. He was content being my house husband. He had zero killer instinct in the bedroom.

One night, I 'tripped' out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel. I landed right in his arms. He didn't make a move.

He steadied me, made sure I was okay, and then locked himself in the bathroom for a thirty-minute cold shower. He cooled down. I was left frustrated.

Then, my phone buzzed. Jagger: [Baby. Camp is over. Let me teach you how to swim?]

Swim? [Sure.]

That afternoon, a private car whisked me to his villa. The pool was heated. Jagger cut through the water like a shark.

He surfaced at the edge, water sluicing off his broad shoulders. He locked eyes with me. He was two years younger. His gaze was raw. Hungry. Unfiltered.

He reached out a hand, his voice rough. "Come here."

My knees went weak. My body moved on its own. I stepped to the edge.

Without warning, he pulled me into the water.

The water swallowed me whole. I can't swim. Panic spiked. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging for dear life. My legs wrapped around his waist, locking me against him.

Jagger looked down. His eyes were dancing with amusement. "Scared, baby?"

I caught my breath. The fear faded, replaced by something hotter. I stared right back. "Are you seducing me?"

He blinked, surprised. I didn't give him time to think. I tilted my head back. And kissed him.

He was right there. Gorgeous. Fit. Obsessed. I wasn't going to say no.

A second later, he took control. He slammed me against the pool wall. One hand gripped my hip, holding me in place. The other tangled in my wet hair, tilting my head back for better access.

His kiss was rough. Primal. Time blurred. He pulled back, gasping for air. His eyes were dark, dilated with lust.

He whispered against my lips, his voice wrecked. "Can I?"

I traced the sharp line of his Adam's apple with my thumb. "What do you think?"

He didn't need to be told twice. He crashed his lips back onto mine. His hands were everywhere. Exploring. Claiming. Underwater.

I felt his swim trunks slide off. Friction. Heat. Skin on skin. We were seconds away from the point of no return.

Suddenly. A voice cut through the steam. Cold. Furious.

"Jagger. Stop."

Chapter 7

"Jagger. Don't bring random girls to my house." The voice was ice.

I froze. Fitzgerald. Thank god my back was turned.

I buried my face instantly into Jagger's wet chest, hiding completely. Jagger thought I was scared. He rubbed my back, soothing me. "Sorry, baby."

"I just finished camp and came straight to the city. I didn't have a place to crash, so I figured I'd stay at my uncle's for a night."

My heart stopped. Uncle?!

Before I could process the disaster, Jagger wrapped a towel around his waist. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the pool. He glared at the man in the shadows.

"She's not random. She's my girlfriend."

Fitzgerald didn't thaw. "Girlfriend or not. No guests. Letting you stay here was already charity."

Jagger tapped my back. A signal to get down. I clung to him like a koala. Arms tighter. Legs locked. Face buried deep in his neck.

"No," I muffled against his skin.

Jagger chuckled. The vibration rumbled against my chest. He looked up at his uncle. His face hardened. "Fitzgerald. You scared her."

They were close in age. Jagger never used honorifics. Fitzgerald rolled his eyes. He had no patience for his meathead nephew.

But his gaze drifted. It landed on the girl in Jagger's arms. Maybe he missed Fallon too much. Because for a second, that back it looked exactly like hers.

Jagger walked past him, carrying me toward the exit. A sudden spike of anxiety hit Fitzgerald. A gut feeling he couldn't explain. "Wait."

Jagger stopped. He turned his head, annoyed. "What now?"

"Don't bother asking us to stay. We're going to a hotel."

I felt Fitzgerald's eyes boring into my back. Like a sniper's target. I couldn't breathe. My grip on Jagger's neck tightened. A spasm of nerves.

The silence stretched. Agonizing. Finally. "Nothing," Fitzgerald said. His voice was hollow.

Jagger rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. He carried me out the door.

Hotel. I was soaked. I had nothing to wear. Jagger, ever the protector, steered me into the bathroom. "Shower. Warm up. I'll go buy you something."

He left. I showered. Wrapped myself in a fluffy robe. I played Candy Crush, feeling safe.

Ding-dong. The doorbell. Jagger must have forgotten his key card.

I hopped off the bed. Yanked the door open. "Did you forget"

I choked. Standing there. Fitzgerald. His face was a mask of cold fury.

My hand spasmed. I tried to slam the door. He was faster. His hand shot out, gripping the frame. He pushed his way in