Chapter 3Sorry, I'm Just a Fake Heiress Here for the Money

I snatched those bills right out of her hand and held them up to the sunlight to check they were real.

"A hundred bucks, right?"

I briskly stuffed the money into my pocket.

"Errand fee, twenty. Heat-hazard pay, twenty. Personal-shopper surcharge, twenty."

"The coffee's fifteen. Here's your twenty-five in change."

I pulled out my phone. "Venmo or cash?"

Bianca's eyes went huge, like she was seeing a ghost.

"Cassandra, are you insane?! Since when did you get this cheap and grubby?!"

"I work for a living, and I'm proud of it."

As I said it, I turned to Julian.

"Boss, I'm requesting ten minutes off to run this errand. It counts as my legal break, so you won't dock my pay, right?"

Julian looked at me, his sunglasses slipping down to the bridge of his nose. He lifted his coffee to hide the corners of his mouth, which were climbing wildly.

"...Go."

Ten minutes later, I came back with an iced black-currant refresher.

"Your drink, Miss. Enjoy." I set the cup down in front of Bianca.

Bianca scoffed, picked up the cup, and took one sip.

"Pfft!"

She spat it right back out.

"What is this?! It's room temperature! I asked for ice!"

"Sorry, the sun was brutal on the way back. The ice melted." Not a flicker on my face.

"You did that on purpose!"

Bianca shot to her feet, grabbed the cup, and made to fling it in my face.

I whipped out the little plastic payment-alert speaker I carry everywhere and held it up like a shield in front of my face.

"Splash!"

The purple-red liquid drenched the speaker and my T-shirt.

Bianca smiled smugly.

"Oops, my hand slipped. You okay, Cassandra?"

Julian's expression darkened in a flash, a chill surging into his eyes. He had already started to rise, one long leg stepping forward.

But I beat him to it, grabbing the towel off my neck to wipe my face, then opening the calculator on my phone.

"Beep, beep!"

"Designer hand-stitched T-shirt, ruined. Fifteen hundred."

"Severe emotional trauma. Six thousand."

"Advance on medical costs for premeditated assault. One thousand."

"Grand total: eight thousand five hundred dollars even."

I shoved the payment QR code right up under Bianca's nose.

"So, Miss Ross, are you scanning this yourself, or should I call the cops right now and report you for disorderly conduct in public?"

Bianca was completely dumbstruck.

"Fifteen hundred for that ratty shirt? You're extorting me!"

"What, Miss Ross thinks the great Ashford heiress would wear flea-market junk that costs less than fifteen hundred?"

I shot back, standing my ground.

Seeing that I had the situation handled, Julian settled comfortably back into his seat.

Watching me back Bianca into a corner, his shoulders started shaking hard.

This dude is way too happy！

Bianca was so furious her face contorted with rage. She pointed at me, unable to get a word out for the longest time.

"You... you're just shameless!"

"Thanks for the compliment. Payment plans accepted, interest billed separately." I smiled and waggled my phone.

"Or, you know, I wouldn't mind stringing up a banner right now that reads: 'Bianca Ross Bullies Classmate, Refuses to Pay Debts.'"

Bianca stamped her foot hard.

"Fine, I'll scan it! You just wait!"

The Venmo alert chimed: eighty-five hundred dollars received.

And I felt it deep in my bones: this body-double gig was a gold mine I could dig forever!

After those eighty-five hundred bucks hit my account, I walked on air.

That evening, Julian had a so-called "young high-society mixer."

As his personal assistant, I naturally got dragged along.

The venue was an obscenely luxurious private club on the south side of town.

The moment the private-room door swung open, the air inside was thick with smoke, men and women lounging around in a ring.

"Well, well, Julian's here."

A rich kid with blond hair stood up, his eyes landing on me.

"If it isn't the Ashford heiress. Heard you're Julian's assistant now?"

"What, slumming it for the experience?"

There was clear malice in his words, and the people around him snickered along.

Julian sat down in the master seat on the sofa, legs crossed, saying nothing, like he wanted to see how I'd handle it.

I scoffed inwardly but plastered a perfect, professional smile on my face.

"Evening, gentlemen. Since you all know I'm the assistant, feel free to put me to work. Pouring drinks, fetching tea, whatever you need tonight."

"Everything's clearly priced, of course. Honest rates, no tricks."

The blond guy blinked, apparently not expecting me to be so cooperative.

His eyes rolled, and he picked up a bottle of Louis XIII from the table, filling a glass to the brim.

"Alright then. Since you're so hard up for cash."

He pushed the glass in front of me, then pulled a wad of bills from his wallet and slapped it on the table.

"Down this, and the three grand's yours."

Julian, who'd been watching from the sidelines this whole time, narrowed his eyes, a cold aura rolling off him..