Rejecting The Fake Heiress Script

The afternoon I discovered I wasn't a real Lancaster, I decided my best move was to get myself married off before the biological daughter came through the front door. I marched straight into Chase Lockwood’s corner office, slammed my palms on his mahogany desk, and said, ""Hey, idiot. I’m feeling generous. Here’s your once-in-a-lifetime chance to lock me down. Marry me."" The words had barely left my lips when the air in front of my face fractured, erupting into floating ribbons of translucent, glowing text: [Lmao, the high-born vampire lord fell for the real heiress at first sight. The fake one looks like an absolute clown.] [He was the one who tracked down the real daughter in the first place. He’s already having her escorted to the Lancaster estate right now so he can marry a human with an actual aristocratic bloodline.] [Later on, the fake heiress goes completely psycho trying to win him back, frames the real daughter over and over, and ends up with shattered limbs locked inside a psychiatric facility by the male lead and the family.] The blood in my veins turned to slush. My breath caught behind my ribs, cold and jagged. Chase leaned back into the supple leather of his executive chair, surveying me with an amused, insolent curl to his mouth. His skin, as always, was unnaturally pale, almost luminous in the dim office lighting. ""Didn't you swear on your life that you wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole even if every other man on earth dropped dead?"" My survival instincts kicked in before my brain did. I grabbed the heavy quarterly report off his desk and flung it directly at his smug face. With a blur of inhuman speed, Chase’s cold, pale hand shot up, catching the heavy binder mid-air without so much as blinking. I spun on my heels toward the exit. ""It was a joke, you narcissist!"" I threw over my shoulder, picking up speed. ""I can’t believe you actually bought it. You really are an idiot."" Behind me, the cocky, predatory light in Chase’s eyes snuffed out instantly.