Chapter 3Exposing My Viral Holiday Fraud

The anger was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. I pushed open Tiffany’s front door without knocking.

Inside, the house smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. Tiffany was sprawled on a velvet sofa, wearing a tight, ill-fitting designer blazer. She had a massive, obviously fake Rolex on her wrist.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice dripping with mock-boredom. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

She looked at me with a greasy, self-satisfied grin. “Brooks Miller. Long time no see. Remember when I used to chase you in high school and you acted like you were too good for me? Look at us now. One little ‘update’ and you’re right where you belong.”

I stared at her. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Tiffany.”

She shrugged, checking her nails. “So I used a little leverage. Big deal. I’m a success story now. You’re lucky I’m even interested. If you play your cards right and keep me happy, maybe I’ll let you ride in the Porsche.”

She looked down at her phone, and a second later, the TikTok updated: “Training the husband. He’s so obedient, he’s afraid to even breathe without my permission.”

‘Husband’? I felt a wave of nausea.

“Don’t just stand there,” she barked, pointing to a corner. “Grab the broom. My relatives are coming over soon, and I need this place spotless. Then you’re starting on dinner.”

She kicked off a boot and peeled off a damp sock, tossing it at my feet. “Wash these, too. By hand.”

She immediately went back to her phone: “Having a man around is so convenient. He’s already doing my laundry. Life is good.”

The comments hailed her as a ‘General’ and a ‘Boss Babe.’

It was surreal. This woman was a slob, a liar, and a thief of other people's reputations. And her family was just as bad. Her mother walked into the room, looking at me like I was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe.

“Well, at least he’s pretty,” the mother said. “Even if he is a little tramp. I don’t know why my daughter wants a ‘used’ man like you when she’s a CEO.”

“Exactly,” her father added, stepping in from the kitchen. “She’s a world-class executive. Look at her clothes—high-end custom couture. You better count your blessings.”

These people were delusional. They were clearly reciting the script Tiffany had fed them.

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “So, Tiffany is a ‘big boss,’ huh?”

The mother puffed out her chest. “The biggest. She owns a Fortune 500 company.”

I almost laughed. “Is that so? Which one?”

Before she could answer, the front door swung open. A group of extended relatives filed in, buzzing with excitement. They were all gravitating toward Tiffany, kissing her ring, acting like she was the Second Coming.

“Brooks, what are you waiting for?” Tiffany’s father hissed. “Get to the kitchen and start the appetizers! Don’t embarrass us!”

The audacity was breathtaking.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my Head of Ops.

“I need a favor. I’m about to dismantle a fraud. Give me full access to the rental logs and the employee database. Now.”