I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 100: I Don’t Like The Sound Of This

Chapter 100: I Don’t Like The Sound Of This

As expected, the exclusive book club gathering took place at Charlotte Bloom’s elegant townhouse, nestled just a few minutes from the city center.

The setting was carefully curated, just like everything else in Charlotte’s carefully constructed life. Anna had planned her arrival with equal precision, choosing to come early in order to prepare personalized welcome gifts for each of the club members.

On the sun-drenched terrace, she neatly placed copies of the month’s selected read—Greek Lessons—on the glass coffee table, their soft covers catching the light. She offered a polite nod of thanks to the maid who handed her a tall glass of something cold and citrusy, the condensation already beading along the glass in the summer warmth.

The other members began to arrive one after another, fashionably late, their heels clicking against the wooden floors as they floated onto the terrace like butterflies drawn to honey.

Each of them eyed Anna with a mix of curiosity and veiled admiration. She was Chloe Dumas, after all—the foreign socialite who had not only captivated the city’s upper crust but had also built an impressive web of powerful acquaintances in record time.

What charmed them even more than her reputation, however, were the exquisite gifts she had prepared for her very first meeting.

"Leather-covered notebooks and jeweled Tiffany pens," Charlotte noted aloud, her voice honeyed yet sharp, as her eyes swept over Anna from head to toe. "You’re incredibly generous, Miss Dumas. And so thoughtful, too—such appropriate gifts for the book club ladies. No wonder Marienne found you so... unforgettable."

Once the meeting wrapped up and the guests began to filter out, Charlotte made no effort to hide her intentions. She leaned in slightly, resting her manicured fingers on the armrest of Anna’s chair.

"Would you mind staying a little longer?" she asked, her tone sweet with underlying calculation. "I’d love the chance to get to know you better."

Anna smiled gracefully, as though the invitation had caught her by pleasant surprise—though in truth, she had anticipated it all along.

"My fortune teller always emphasizes the power of generosity," she said, her voice calm and charming, her lips curling into a practiced, disarming smile. "The more I give, the more I receive. I’ve always believed in karma."

"Oh my!" Charlotte clapped her hands together, her eyes darting around as if to make sure no one was within earshot. Then, with deliberate gentleness, she took Anna by the arm and guided her a few steps away from the entrance, lowering her voice as they moved.

"You visit a fortune teller too?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with sudden interest. Anna couldn’t help the small, triumphant smirk that tugged at her lips. The trap had been perfectly set—and Charlotte had walked straight into it.

"Of course I do," Anna replied smoothly. "There have been so many times when she’s helped me through difficult decisions. I don’t like tempting fate—whenever I find myself facing a dilemma, I reach out to my fortune teller and a shaman right away."

"You have a shaman too?" Charlotte’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, her eyes narrowing with cautious intrigue. "Already? In this city?"

Anna gave a confident nod, her smile widening. "Naturally. I’d like to think I have a good eye for these things. He’s quite reliable, actually—hasn’t let me down once."

"You must give me his contact information immediately!" Charlotte burst out, her sudden eagerness startling Anna just enough to make her stiffen in surprise. Her eyes were wide, gleaming with something close to desperation, and her hands trembled slightly as they reached for Anna’s. "I’ve been trying to find a proper one for so long. I’m desperate."

"Really?" Anna let her shoulders relax and allowed her smile to soften, her voice laced with curiosity. "What’s going on?"

Charlotte hesitated, visibly uncomfortable, her fingers tightening around Anna’s wrist. "Well..." she began, clearly reluctant to share. But before she could say more, Anna quickly stepped in, her tone as gentle as silk.

"Oh, don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No, I..." Charlotte hesitated again, her shoulders drooping slightly. And then, in a quiet, fragile voice, she finally confessed, "I think I’ve been cursed."

Her gaze dropped to the ground as if the weight of her own words had suddenly become too much to carry.

Anna’s brows lifted in mild confusion. "Cursed? Why do you think you’ve been cursed?"

Charlotte took a hesitant step forward, closing the remaining distance between them. Then she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper, "You see... someone I knew passed away not too long ago, and I... well, I feel somewhat responsible for her death."

Anna’s body stiffened, her breath catching for the briefest moment as realization hit her like a cold gust of wind. Is she talking about me?

"Why do you feel guilty?" she asked aloud, keeping her tone steady despite the growing storm of thoughts behind her eyes.

Charlotte’s expression darkened. She paused, visibly struggling to articulate her feelings. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it—but her superstitions seemed to outweigh her reluctance.

"I wasn’t kind to her when she was alive," she finally admitted in a quiet, heavy sigh. "And sometimes... it feels like her soul is still lingering. Like she might have cursed me. That would explain all the bad luck I’ve been having."

Anna tilted her head slightly, feigning concern as a spark of intrigue lit up inside her. "What kind of bad luck?"

Charlotte hesitated again, glancing around as though the shadows might be eavesdropping. "I haven’t had much luck in... love. If you know what I mean."

Anna fought the urge to roll her eyes, keeping her expression carefully composed. She leaned in just slightly, her tone laced with gentle curiosity. "Your husband hasn’t been treating you well?"

Of course, she already knew the truth. Andrew was known to be a devoted husband—perhaps a bit too trusting—completely blind to his wife’s endless string of quiet affairs. Still, Anna wanted to hear her admit it. Wanted to coax the confession out like a prize.

Charlotte sighed, the sound almost theatrical in its emotional impact. "No, not my husband. I mean... I have a very special friend. And lately, no matter what I do, he seems to be slipping away from me. I feel like I’m losing him, and it’s tearing me apart. He’s the only source of joy I have left in my life."

Your only joy? Anna’s internal smirk curled with disdain as she gave the woman a long, pitiful glance. You were the one who married for money, hoping to lead a life without hardship. And now? You steal from your doting husband to keep your lovers happy—and still have the audacity to call yourself unhappy? Pathetic.

But instead of letting her thoughts show, Anna slipped effortlessly back into her practiced role. She offered a warm, understanding smile and gently clasped Charlotte’s trembling hands.

"Say no more," she said softly, her voice filled with feigned sympathy as she reeled the woman further into her charm. "I’ll arrange a meeting with my shaman as soon as possible. I can promise you—he’ll lift that curse before you can count to three."

***

"Daniel," Anna said, finally tearing her gaze away from her phone screen, "how do I find a shaman?"

Daniel blinked, startled, as he set his tablet aside and turned to face her. "I’m sorry—what? A shaman?"

Anna nodded solemnly, her expression so serious it might as well have been a discussion about grocery shopping. As if asking about spiritual healers was the most natural thing to do over afternoon coffee.

"I’ve come up with a scheme to bring Charlotte down," she explained, leaning in slightly, "but for that, I need a shaman... or..."

She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she studied Daniel’s still-bewildered face. Then her lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile.

"Or someone who can pretend to be one."

Daniel recoiled instinctively, his chair creaking as he shifted back. "I don’t like where this is going," he muttered, a shiver running down his spine as if he could already picture himself in flowing robes and feathers.

"Please, Daniel!" Anna begged in a mock-pleading voice, her lower lip jutting out in a perfect pout. "You’d just have to meet her somewhere private and recite a few lines I’ll prepare. That’s all—easy!"

"No. Absolutely not!" Daniel shook his head with such intensity he looked like a bobblehead doll. "Find someone else. I’m swamped. Really. My schedule’s insane these days. Oh—Violet!"

As if salvation had walked through the door, Daniel leapt from his seat the moment Violet entered the dining room. Without missing a beat, he hurried her toward Anna, practically shoving her into the conversation while ignoring her baffled expression.

"Take Violet instead! Mr. Stark assigned her as your personal assistant, so you’re free to do whatever you want with her!"

"Excuse me?" Violet shot him a sharp glare, the kind that could slice through steel, but Daniel acted as though he hadn’t seen it at all.

Anna stared at Violet for a long, contemplative moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she rose from her seat and stepped closer, stopping just in front of her assistant. She locked eyes with her, a thoughtful glint sparking behind her cool gaze.

"You know what," Anna murmured, "maybe I can twist things this way... Yes, I think this could work perfectly. Alright, Violet—tomorrow, you’ll have a very important role to play."

Violet’s face immediately fell into a wary frown. She took a small step back, visibly bracing herself. "Ugh," she muttered, struggling to keep her tone professional despite the growing dread. "I really don’t like the sound of this."

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