Gold Digger's True Love

At the elite gala, crystal chandeliers shimmering above champagne towers, Juliet Hayes stepped into the ballroom in a crimson gown, a silver small-caliber pistol aimed at Victor Astor’s chest. “You owe me,” she sneered, eyes sharp as blades. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back—when you left me on that Venetian bridge three years ago?” Silence gripped the room. Victor only smiled, lifting his wine glass with deliberate grace. “Oh? Then tell me—exactly who are you?” The livestream chat exploded: [No way! This Juliet is fake! The real Miss Hayes has been locked away in a sanatorium by Victor for five years!] [Plot twist incoming! Every move she makes is part of his script!] [Even her name was given by him… oh god, she’s just a doll he created…] Juliet froze. She remembered the night she fled the slums—he gave her the name "Juliet," taught her aristocratic diction, sent her into Parisian high society. She thought it was love. It was training. “You think you’re here for revenge?” Victor set down his glass, stepping closer. “But you don’t even realize it—your dress, your words, even the way you hold that gun—all written by my brother, Jasper, just for you.” She pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out. But it wasn’t Victor who fell—it was the bodyguard rushing in behind her, blood blooming across his chest, the Hayes family crest pinned to his jacket. “He’s the real one.” Victor’s voice turned icy. “And you? You wouldn’t pass a DNA test.” Staggering backward, Juliet crashed into the champagne tower. Glass shattered. On the grand screen at the far end of the hall, surveillance footage flickered to life—a pale woman in a wheelchair, smiling quietly at the camera. *That* is Juliet Hayes.” Victor said. “I’ve killed seven impostors before you. You’re the eighth.” She finally understood—no one ever intended for her to walk out alive the moment she stepped onto that red carpet. In the next breath, she dropped to her knees—not in surrender, but raised the gun to her own temple. “If I’m not her… then who am I?” Victor looked down, whispering like a lover’s kiss: “You were my most perfect forgery. Pity—even the finest counterfeit must burn.” Flames crept from the hem of her dress. Music swelled once more. At the center of the dance floor, only a pair of bloodstained red dancing shoes remained, slowly spinning. To avenge her sister, Juliet impersonates the Hayes family heiress to seduce Victor, but ends up catching the eye of his half-brother, Jasper, leading to a forbidden romance.