Wattpad Clichés

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sO I'm a really young (like 18 years old) and hot waitress that works in a shabby restaurant with a family member who's in the hospital for God knows what reason. Then this hot af playboy billionaire approaches me and we sign an agreement that we'll be married for a year because his father threatened not to give him the company and instead give it to some family member that he hates if he doesn't get married. So we get married and he pays me a ton of money to pay for my family member's hospital bills then boom we're in love. Of course, there's a psychopath ex of his that causes a ton of trouble but eh we got over it.

I actually can't believe I haven't written this cliché until now cos it's like, the BIGGEST billionaire cliché on Wattpad.

Also, how well did I capture this cliche in my long paragraph? Rate from 1 to 10, 10 being the best and 1 being the worst.

Scenario:

"Okay look Ella, I need you to marry me because I think you're perfect for this role. My dad won't give me his company and will give it to my cousin who I hate like shit and-"

"What?! Are you crazy?! I'm not marrying you for one year!" I screeched, slamming my rag down on the diner table. People around me shot me weird looks.

"I'll pay you one billion dollars," Mr. Onald Thump deadpanned.

I thought about my sister Della, who had gotten into an accident ten years ago where she ate poisonous dandelions and was still in coma at the hospital till this day. I always struggled to pay the bills and I had a lot of debts that I owe so I guess this would be good.

"Deal," I replied, plopping down into the seat.

"Okay, now sign this agreement," Onald said, pushing a pen and paper towards me.

I tried to read the agreement but was too bored so I merely pretended to read it carefully. Like hello, I'm eighteen I cannot care to waste another second of my life reading this dung.

I signed it and then we started preparing for the wedding.

- 30+ chapters later -

"MUAHAHAHAHA!" Kella laughed like a maniac, flailing her knife around in the air. I watched her dance around her secret lair from my spot, where I hung upside down above a tank of sharks trying to bite my head.

"I finally have you here! Do you know why you're here?" she questioned, malice gleaming in her electric eyes.

"I don't know and I don't care," I replied, shrugging. Oh my God, just kill me already.

"Glad you asked," she said with a psychopathic grin. "It's all your fault. Onald was going to marry me, then you whored yourself into his bed and made him marry you! I love him and you stole him!"

"Gee, I'm crying. What a sad love story, better than A Walk To Remember, I must say. Where-"

"I HATE YOU IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" she screeched, storming towards me with her knife stuck out.

Just then, from my peripheral vision, I noticed Onald sneaking in from behind Kella with a gun in one hand while the other gestured me to be silent.

I pursed my lip as I watched him raise the gun and shoot Kella right in the back of her head, causing blood to split as she tumbled onto the floor.

Her hazed eyes stared up into Onald's swirling grey ones, choking on her blood. "O-Onald... why... I-I love y-you."

"We were fuck buddies Kella. Now goodbye," he grounded out unmercilessly, then flung her body into the tank of sharks that immediately devoured her up.

Somehow I got out of the ropes and fell into his embrace. "I love you," I said while Kella screamed in the background.

"I love you more," Onald murmured in response, flicking away a chunk of Kella's flesh that fell onto his face.

Fun fact: The names Ella, Della and Kella were names I created for three embroidery pieces of the silhouettes of some women while I was high and on a manic episode. I gave them a backstory too.

Ella is Cinderella,
Della eats dandelions,
Kella is a killa. (killer)

I don't know why I gave them those backstories but I was high. Either way, they still worked out just fine for this scenario.

Also, no politics please. Onald Thump was totally not inspired by the oh-so-amazing president of USA who sadly seems to be suicidal considering how badly he wants to die from the anti-malarial drug he insists on taking to prevent Covid-19. He really needs to see a therapist or a counsellor, I'm worried for his suicidal state.

Ps. I'm supposed to start working on rewriting one of my stories but here I am putting my writing brain cells into this cliche and scenario.

Note from Future Felicia: Okay so I wrote this while in a Sugar Rush so I apologise for my sadistic and sarcastic words. Also, warning; do not eat a spoonful of sugar at 11pm. You'll get a headache and a bloated stomach.