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I woke up as the villainess in a novel.
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The plot demanded I be consumed by jealousy for the male lead’s one true love, that I’d act out crazily and destructively until I was
finally shipped off to a psychiatric hospital.
Nooked at the stunningly beautiful face in the mirror.
Then I looked down at the unlimited black card in my hand.
And then at the walk–in closet overflowing with Hermès bags.
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I had to laugh.
An asylum? Whoever wants to go can have my spot.
I was done. I was checking out.
I was going to take the male lead’s money and live my own goddamn life.
Liam Scott’s hand was clamped around my neck.
Hard.
I couldn’t breathe.
ད་མེད། ད་ཀམད་ ར་དོད་ད་ཆད་ དང་ དང་ཉ་དང་ ད་ལྟ་དང་ང་དག་ནས་ད་ད་ ས་
He had just come from a funeral. He carried the cloying scent of lilies and damp earth, a scent that mingled strangely with his usual cold, crisp cedarwood cologne.
The combination was bizarre.
“Vivienne,” he said, his voice low and deep, banked with fire. “You’d better pray that Lily is okay.”
“If i ever see you imitate a single one of her expressions, a single one of her movements again…”
His fingers tightened.
“I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
My neck throbbed with pain. A tear escaped from the corner of my eye, an involuntary physiological response. Liam’s gaze, fixed on that single tear, turned even colder.
I knew what he was thinking.
In the novel, the villainess, Vivienne King, loved nothing more than to imitate Liam’s one true love, Lily White.
When Lily cried, she looked exactly like this: pitiful, fragile, like a delicate white blossom.
The “me” from before had spent three months practicing how to cry just like that in front of a mirror.
So now, this perfectly timed tear?
Liam was convinced I was putting on another show.
He flung my hand away. I stumbled, catching myself on the cold, hard surface of the vanity to keep from falling. My throat was on
fire.
“Cough… cough, cough…” I clutched my neck, hacking until my lungs ached.
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Liam looked down at me, his eyes filled with the kind of revulsion you’d reserve for a piece of trash.
“Remember my words,” he said, yanking at his tie before turning to leave. “Stay away from Lily. If she doesn’t wake up today, you’ll
be buried with her.”
SLAM!
The bedroom door shuddered in its frame.
I leaned on the vanity, gasping for air. The woman in the mirror was a wreck. Her face was flushed, tears clung to her lashes, and
her hair was a mess.
But damn, she was beautiful.
Vivienne’s face was a masterpiece. More vibrant, more aggressively stunning than Lily’s innocent, girl–next–door purity.
Too bad the novel’s male lead, Liam Scott, only had eyes for Lily’s type. He found Vivienne’s beauty garish and conniving.
That’s why no matter how she mimicked Lily, how she tried to please Liam, how she schemed to break them up, she was destined
to lose her family, her fortune, and her sanity, ending her days in an asylum.
Tragic.
1 touched the red marks on my neck. The stinging pain was a sharp reminder.
This wasn’t a dream.
I had really been transported into a book.
I was the villainess with the miserable ending.
Liam’s threat still echoed in my ears. “If she doesn’t wake up today, you’ll be buried with her.”
I remembered. This was a key plot point.
AG AA
After Lily returned to the country, Vivienne had arranged a “minor” car accident. Lily was physically unharmed but had fainted from the shock. Liam, convinced Vivienne was behind it, had come to confront her.
Then, the original Vivienne had cried and screamed, swearing her innocence while trying to throw herself at him, using her body to
win him back.
The result, of course, was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Liam’s disgust had only deepened, laying the groundwork for him to eventually commit her.
I looked down at myself, I was wearing a silk slip of a nightgown. Thin and translucent. Clearly, it was the original owner’s intended
“weapon.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I snatched the thick terrycloth robe from the back of a nearby chair and wrapped it tightly around
myself.
Buried with her? An asylum?
No. No, thank you.
I valued my life very much.
And since I was here, as a rich, beautiful woman no less, why would I throw it all away?
The male lead belonged to his true love.
The money belonged to me.
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I walked to the massive floor–to–ceiling window. Outside, the river glittered with the lights of the city’s most expensive district. Beneath my feet was a priceless, hand–woven rug. The bags and jewels in my closet could fund several lifetimes of luxury.
I touched my still–sore neck.
My mind was made up.
I was checking out. I was done playing games.
I would stay far, far away from the main characters.
And I would take Liam Scott’s money and enjoy my life.
As for Lily?
I hoped she would wake up immediately, healthy and vibrant.
And I hoped she and Liam would be shackled together for eternity.
Just as long as they left me alone.
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Lily woke up the next day. A false alarm.
Liam didn’t come looking for me again. He was probably busy with his darling.
d me to begin my grand retirement plan.
I was more than happy to be left in peace. It was
Step one: Move out of Liam’s penthouse. The place was too big, too empty, as cold and impersonal as a luxury there was always the risk of running into him. Bad for my health.
I called a real estate agent. My requirements
were simple and direct.
Downtown.
A large, single–floor apartment.
**
showroom. And
ker ના
Great view.
Fully furnished.
Move–in ready.
That afternoon, I dragged my limited–edition suitcases into my new home.
Over three thousand square feet. A massive, curved window wall let the sunlight stream in, warm and unobstructed.
I threw myself onto a sofa that felt like a cloud.
“Ahhhh,” I sighed in contentment. This was living.
Step two: Organize my assets. Vivienne may have been obsessed with a man, but she was still the heiress of the King family. Her dowry was substantial. And while Liam didn’t love her, the Scott family cared about appearances. The monthly allowance he depo- sited into her account was an astronomical figure.
I checked my mobile banking app. Seeing that long string of zeros brought a wave of pure, unadulterated joy.
This wasn’t a villainess. This was my personal goddess of wealth!
Step three: Cut off all ties that could trigger the plot. In the book, Vivienne had bribed several of Liam’s assistants and drivers to spy on Lily. She’d even hired private investigators to tail and photograph her. Utterly foolish.
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I picked up my phone and found the contacts. I sent them each a message.
“Our arrangement is terminated. Final payment has been sent. Do not contact me again.”
Then, I blocked and deleted them all.
