THE BILLIONAIRE'S GIRL WITH THE FAKE ID

“If you don’t take this identity, Clara, your mother will die.”

Andrey’s voice came through, slithering across the café table like silk-wrapped poison. Her manicured fingers slid a brown envelope toward me, its weight pressing against the polished wood like a verdict.

My gaze locked on the envelope as my breath hitched, my chest tightening as though the city itself had paused around me.

Outside, New York groaned beneath its usual chaos. Horns blared, shoes slapped against cracked sidewalks as many ambitions flashed in glass towers, but inside me, everything went silent. Except for the echo of Andrey’s words urging me to give in. That envelope was not an ordinary file. It was a blade wrapped in paper. A secret, powerful enough to slice my life into two - a fake identity.

At fifteen, my childhood ended the day my mother’s health collapsed. Overnight, I became the sole pillar of survival, dragging my mother's failing body through this merciless world. The fragile utopia she had built for me right from childhood crumbled into dust. From then on, my world dimmed. My youth dissolved into a grey blur of unpaid bills and midnight tears.

Now, at twenty-five, reality has stripped me of my last illusion and this choice before me was one of them. That envelope sat between us, staring at me like a loaded gun.

“I can’t,” I whispered to Andrey, though as the words left my mouth, they trembled with hesitation and anxiety.

Andrey’s gaze sliced through me, sharp and unyielding as she responded. “Clara, you can’t afford to miss this opportunity. This luck doesn’t knock for girls like us without demanding for sacrifice or blood.” she said while her eyes pierced through me with all conviction.

Her words dragged me back to Oakland’s broken sidewalks, where we had grown up side by side as hunger shadowed us both in our early stage. Andrey’s ambition had always pushed her forward. As my childhood friend, secrets clung to her like perfume, intoxicating and dangerous. She is always up to something, and now, she is offering me one - a job that requires my true identity hidden.

“Clara,It’s only a cleaning job”. She continued. “It's high-paying, with no questions. They just hire through referrals only, and this file will get you this job with the Bishops.” She said boldly.

The name hit me like a slap, ‘The Bishops’.

Their reputation carried the weight of whispered warnings, their wealth staining across the city with untouchable power. They were rumoured to be one the most dangerous families in the history of San Francisco. Or are they the rumoured Devil?

My throat tightened. “Andrey, where did you even get this fake identity from?” My voice cracked nervously as I asked her.

Immediately, her face squeezed into a grunt. “Shh.. don’t ask me, just know this. The Bishops don’t ignore the past, and they don’t forgive lies. If you’re in, you’re in, and if you’re caught…” She paused, her silence hanging like a blade slicing through my chest. “You will be eliminated”

I didn’t need her to finish as I already knew that this wasn’t just a job. It was a trap. But my mother’s health is my utmost fear. She is already fading to death, her body collapsing beneath illness and poverty. Hospitals had slammed their doors in our faces and bills strangled us daily. In fact, our hopes had become a luxury.

I thought of my mother’s laugh. So soft and tender, even when her bones ached. I thought of her eyes, still burning with love despite the illness stealing her strength. Hardship had stolen my dreams and ripped my youth apart, and now, it dangled my mother’s life in front of me in exchange for a lie.

“Andrey”. “Are there no questions the Bishops will ask concerning this?” I enquired.

“None Clara.” Her glare hardened. “You’ll just clean, remain silent and get paid.”

“Simple!”

The knot in my stomach pulled tighter as every instinct in me screamed danger. Yet, my choice at this point was just an illusion. In fact, right now, I had no choice.

“I’ll do it,” I responded, giving in finally as my words rasped against my throat, bitter as ash.

If I perish, I perish.

“Better”. Andrey heaved a sigh of relief at my final conclusion.

That night, in the dim corner of our cramped apartment. I opened the envelope again.

The forged ID stared back at me. It was written, ‘Elena Cruz’. A stranger’s name mocking me from the glossy surface. I also saw the referral letter attached to it and a set of gate codes from ‘The Bishops’ that lay folded neatly beside it. That was my entry ticket into the Bishops’ world.

Everyone in San Francisco knew the Bishops. The rumoured billionaires draped in secrecy. I’d once scrubbed the marble lobby of their skyscraper, forbidden even to touch their private elevator. Now, I was about to walk through their front door, not as Clara, but as Elena.

“God! Help me at this point”. I said my last prayer before retiring to bed.

---

The next morning, I was at the Bishops' gate. My fingers trembled, magnifying the nervous air around me as I entered the code. My heart is hammering so hard on my ribs as the gates swung open with a silent menace. No sound, due to it being automated. It opened slowly welcoming me into their world.

The mansion loomed over the cliff like a flawless beast-stone and glass gleaming in the dawn. Everything here felt so different. Unlike the slump I came from.

I staggered slowly to the checkpoint before the entrance door. A security guard halted me to scan my forged ID. My lungs froze as my throat tightened in fear, his scanner beeped once, then glitching. His thumb finger hovered over the red button on his beep as he looked steadily at it and snapped a gaze at me. Just one word from him, and I’d be dragged to the back gates, where rumor said the Bishops’ dogs tore liars apart before dumping their leftovers into the cliffs below.

My palms were slicked with sweat. If I was caught, it wouldn’t just be me. The Bishops were known for punishing families, burning houses and erasing victims' bloodlines. My mother wouldn’t just die from illness. She would be caught, punished and haunted forever when I'm gone.Death flashed through my eyes as the guard's face turned into something that looks like fury.

Then suddenly, the scanner blinked green. The guard’s eyes lingered on me as I passed the gate, his stare drilling through my skin as he muttered some words with his lips forming a word I couldn’t hear. For a split second, I thought he was about to stop me. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside darting away his gaze as he commanded. “Go”. If that machine had stayed red, I wouldn’t have walked back out of those gates alive.

My knees nearly buckled, but I forced a smile, walking into a cage I couldn’t escape. My breath snagged as I knew someone already suspected I didn’t belong here.

What could be awaiting me inside the Bishops' house?