The Billionaire Fell For the Ghostwriter

I was the ultimate ghostwriter for a billionaire's daughter. Bianca got to look gorgeous and live her best life, while I spent my days and nights replying to her endless stream of suitors.

The desperate simps? I'd ignore them for three hours, then hit them with a dry "cool."

The brooding, tragic boys? A two-hour delay, followed by a soft, "Sorry, been so busy."

The delusional narcissists? Instant block.

I had my system down to a science. Until I ran into a guy who defied every category.