1

I woke up as the villainess in a novel.

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.

I looked 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.

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.

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.

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.

I 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.

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.

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.

2

Lily woke up the next day. A false alarm.

Liam didn’t come looking for me again. He was probably busy with his darling.

I was more than happy to be left in peace. It was time to begin my grand retirement plan.

Step one: Move out of Liam’s penthouse. The place was too big, too empty, as cold and impersonal as a luxury showroom. And 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.

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 deposited 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.

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.

Finally, I opened the chat with the contact named “Liam.” The history was pathetic. A cringe-worthy monologue of my one-sided devotion.

“Liam, it’s getting cold today. Don’t forget to wear a coat.”

“Liam, I made soup. Should I have the driver bring it to you?”

“Liam, your stomach is sensitive. Don’t drink too much.”

“Liam, I…”

Liam’s replies were either a curt “k,” “no,” or, most often, nothing at all.

The last message was from yesterday.

“Liam, I know I was wrong. Please come home? I miss you so much.”

A wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over me. My fingers flew across the screen.

“Liam, we need to talk.”

I paused, then deleted it. And retyped.

“Mr. Scott, regarding yesterday’s incident, I feel it’s necessary to clarify that I had nothing to do with Ms. White’s car accident. Furthermore, I have moved out of the penthouse. Please refrain from contacting me unless absolutely necessary. I wish you well.”

I checked it over. Perfect. Calm, distant, and clear.

I hit send.

Then, I changed his contact name from “Liam” to “The ATM.” And set his messages to silent.

The world was finally quiet.

With all that done, I ordered a ridiculously extravagant seafood platter for delivery, paired it with an ice-cold Coke, and curled up on the sofa to watch a mindless, slapstick comedy show. I ate and watched, laughing until my sides hurt.

This was the right way to live in a novel!

The days passed, and I completely let myself go.

The old Vivienne, trying to cater to Liam’s tastes, had only worn muted colors and conservative, ladylike dresses. She spoke softly, ate in tiny, delicate bites, and walked as if she were afraid of stepping on an ant.

And now?

I wore baggy t-shirts with giant cartoon pigs on them. Ripped jeans. Flip-flops. My face was bare, but still stunning enough to turn heads. I haunted hole-in-the-wall eateries, trendy food stalls, and bustling night markets.

Ten skewers of grilled squid in my left hand, a large bubble tea with extra pearls in my right, grease shining on my lips.

Life was good.

The old Vivienne, trying to emulate Lily’s “artistic temperament,” had forced herself to attend stuffy classical concerts and pretentious art exhibitions.

And now?

I lay in my private home theater, the AC blasting, with a mountain of popcorn, catching up on all the trashy dramas and blockbuster action movies I’d never had time for. I cried my eyes out. I laughed until I pounded the sofa.

The old Vivienne, trying to maintain her image as “Mrs. Scott,” was always on guard. She attended mind-numbingly boring high-society afternoon teas, listening to the other women subtly and not-so-subtly brag and compare, all while fending off their attempts to pry into her sham of a marriage.

And now?

I’d left all the so-called “socialite” group chats. I didn’t answer their calls. I threw all their invitations in the trash.

I was busy.

Busy dominating in online games. Busy catching up on new manga releases. Busy researching which new Sichuan restaurant was spicy enough.

As for Liam?

Oh, The ATM.

Ever since I sent that “let’s leave each other alone” message, it had been radio silence from his end. Not even a “k.” He probably thought I was playing some new game, trying to get his attention by pushing him away. He couldn’t be bothered.

Fine by me.

His silence was a blessing. We were like two parallel lines. He was in his world, playing out his angsty, epic romance with Lily (according to the book). I was in mine, enjoying my freedom and decadent lifestyle.

Until—

Liam’s mother, my nominal mother-in-law, Mrs. Scott, had her birthday.

This was an event I couldn’t dodge.

The Scotts were a top-tier aristocratic family, steeped in rules and traditions. Mrs. Scott’s birthday was a grand affair, held at their massive, hillside estate.

When I arrived, the ballroom was already a glittering sea of elegant gowns and sharp suits. The air smelled of money and power.

I glanced down at myself.

To show a modicum of “respect,” I had worn a dress. A simple, long black slip dress. Safe. Unremarkable. I’d tied a silk scarf around my neck, covering the long-faded marks from Liam’s fingers. A thin layer of foundation, a muted rose lipstick. My hair was pulled back in a simple twist. My only jewelry was a pair of small pearl studs.

On any other day, I would have looked perfectly appropriate. But among this flock of women who looked like they’d robbed a jewelry store, I appeared plain, almost shabby.

As expected, my entrance drew more than a few stares. Surprised, speculative, gloating.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Mrs. Scott,” a shrill voice chirped.

It was Mrs. Davenport. One of Vivienne’s former frenemies from the novel. She’d often encouraged the original Vivienne to do foolish things.

She sauntered over, her eyes raking over me like hooks.

“Vivienne, darling, you look… so plain. Didn’t Liam get you anything new for the occasion?” She deliberately raised her voice.

A few other women nearby turned to look, hiding their smiles behind their hands.

“Honestly, Mrs. Scott, this simply won’t do. It’s Mrs. Scott’s special day.”

“Could it be that… Liam is a bit tight on cash lately?”

“Or perhaps, some people’s positions are becoming a bit… unstable…”

Their words, dripping with insinuation, were all meant to highlight my fall from grace.

If this had been the old Vivienne, she would have been provoked into a red-faced fury, either snapping back with a brittle defense or running off to cry to Liam, falling right into their trap.

And now?

I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and took a slow sip. Only then did I raise my eyes to Mrs. Davenport.

“You’re looking well today, Mrs. Davenport,” I said, my tone flat. “That foundation is amazing. You can barely tell your neck and face are two different colors.”

The smile froze on Mrs. Davenport’s face. She subconsciously touched her neck.

Mrs. Wallace, standing next to her, let out an audible snort.

“And you, Mrs. Wallace,” I turned to her. “That diamond necklace is dazzling. Is that the new centerpiece from the Scott jewelry collection? I seem to recall the price tag having quite a few zeros. Your husband is so generous.”

The smile vanished from Mrs. Wallace’s face as well. Her eyes darted around nervously. Her family’s business was in trouble; the necklace was borrowed to keep up appearances.

I couldn’t be bothered with them anymore. I turned and walked away, leaving them with their faces alternating between pale and flushed.

Their level of provocation was simply too boring to engage with. I’d rather spend my energy trying the chef’s specialty cakes.

I made a beeline for the food station. I had just picked up a very tempting slice of Black Forest cake when a familiar, icy voice spoke from behind me.

“You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

My hand trembled. A few chocolate shavings nearly fell off the cake.

I turned.

Liam stood a few feet away. His perfectly tailored black suit accentuated his tall, imposing figure.

And next to him stood Lily.

Lily wore a moon-white, modified silk sheath dress. Her long hair was draped softly over her shoulders. She wore a gentle, perfect smile.

Fragile. Fresh. Like a delicate orchid that needed to be carefully protected.

A stark, brutal contrast to my plain black dress.

Liam’s gaze fell on the cake in my hand, then swept over my simple face and neck. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. The disgust and indifference in his eyes were undisguised.

“Mother is looking for you,” he said, his tone as cold as if he were giving an order to an irrelevant subordinate. “Go and greet her. And watch yourself. Don’t disgrace the Scott family name.”

Lily gently tugged on his sleeve. Her voice was soft. “Liam, don’t say that to Vivienne. She looks… nice today.”

She looked at me, her eyes full of innocent apology. “Vivienne, Liam didn’t mean it like that. He’s just… worried his mother has been waiting too long.”

What a perfect little peacemaker.

I watched her. The book was always divided on whether Lily was genuinely kind or a master manipulator. But right now, the flash of triumph deep in her eyes was something I saw with perfect clarity.

Tsk.

I was too tired to play along with their drama.

“Got it,” I nodded, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’m going.”

Then, right in front of them, I took the slice of Black Forest cake in my hand… and shoved the entire piece into my mouth.

The motion was far from elegant, almost crude. My cheeks puffed out. The rich chocolate flavor melted on my tongue.

Bliss.

Liam’s brow furrowed into a knot. His eyes were like daggers.

Lily was stunned, clearly not expecting such a reaction from me.

I chewed, swallowed, and then grabbed a glass of juice, downing it in one go to wash away the sweetness.

Then, without another glance at them, I carried my empty plate and walked directly toward Mrs. Scott, who was seated at the head table.

Mrs. Scott, impeccably maintained, wore a regal, deep purple gown. Her hair was styled without a single strand out of place. She wore a polite smile as she chatted with several other elderly society ladies.

When she saw me approach, her smile faded slightly. Her eyes were sharp and judgmental.

“Mother, happy birthday,” I said, my tone even.

“Mm,” she acknowledged me. Her critical gaze swept over me, and her brow furrowed. “Why are you dressed like that? Do you have any idea what kind of occasion this is? You have no sense of propriety.”

The other ladies at the table looked over, their expressions varied.

“And Liam and Lily are over there. What are you doing wandering around by yourself?” Mrs. Scott’s voice grew sterner. “What a disgrace! Go and join them immediately!”

Here we go again. Under this kind of pressure, the old Vivienne would have been a bundle of nerves, fumbling and making mistakes, only to be publicly reprimanded and become a laughingstock.

I took a deep breath. I looked up and met Mrs. Scott’s eyes directly.

“Mother, I’m not feeling well today. I apologize if I seem rude,” I said, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear. “I’m afraid I might pass my germs to you and the other guests, and I don’t want to spoil everyone’s evening. Now that I’ve paid my respects, I’ll be leaving.”

Mrs. Scott was speechless, clearly not expecting me to announce my departure so directly. The old Vivienne, desperate for her approval and to look good in front of Liam, would have endured any humiliation.

“You…” she stammered.

“I wish you a long and healthy life. I had the butler place your gift in your study,” I said with a slight bow, my etiquette flawless. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me.”

And with that, before any of them could react, I turned and walked away.

My exit was clean and decisive. I could feel Mrs. Scott’s astonished gaze on my back. And from a distance, Liam’s two cold, piercing stares. And all around, the whispers of people enjoying the drama.

I didn’t give a damn.

I walked out of the glittering, suffocating ballroom. The night air was cool and refreshing on my face.

I pulled out my phone and called a ride-share.

I stood by the side of the road, waiting. Behind me was the Scotts’ luxurious estate, a vast, cold cage.

I looked down and kicked at a small pebble.

Freedom felt good.

…

Liam came to find me a little over a month after I’d moved out.

It was a rainy weekend afternoon. I was curled up on the sofa, clutching a large tub of ice cream, watching an old tearjerker. I was a sobbing mess.

The doorbell rang.

The video intercom showed Liam’s handsome, expressionless face. His hair and shoulders were damp with rain, which only made his features seem sharper, his aura colder.

I frowned. What did he want?

After a moment’s hesitation, I buzzed him in. It was raining, after all. I couldn’t just leave the CEO of Scott Industries standing on my doorstep.

Liam entered, bringing with him a chill and the scent of rain.

He scanned my living room. The giant projector screen showed the main characters in a tearful goodbye. Empty snack wrappers littered the floor. The coffee table was piled with half-eaten bags of chips, soda cans, and the nearly empty tub of chocolate ice cream I was still holding.

I was wearing a fluffy dinosaur onesie. My eyes were red and swollen, and tear tracks stained my cheeks. I was a total disaster.

Liam’s brow furrowed in its customary way. The disgust in his eyes was unmistakable.

“What is it?” I asked, grabbing a tissue to blow my nose. My voice was thick. I didn’t get up. I had no intention of getting him a glass of water.

Liam seemed unaccustomed to this attitude from me. He was silent for a few seconds before walking over and sitting down on the armchair opposite me. The chair was soft, and he sank into it slightly, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Next month is Grandfather’s eightieth birthday,” he said, his voice flat, as if discussing business. “It’s at the family estate. You have to be there.”

“Oh,” I said, scooping a large spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. It was so cold I had to gasp. “Got it.”

Liam watched my crude gesture, his frown deepening.

“Vivienne,” he said, his tone sharpening. “Watch your manners.”

I swallowed the ice cream. “Mr. Scott, I’m in my own home, in my pajamas, eating ice cream and watching a movie. What kind of manners do I need?” I retorted calmly. “It’s not like I’m out there embarrassing your family.”

My words seemed to catch him off guard. His gaze sharpened, studying me as if I were a stranger.

“What have you been doing lately?” he asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” I paused. “Eating, sleeping, playing games, watching shows. Why?”

“You haven’t been bothering Lily?” His tone was laced with suspicion.

I almost laughed out of sheer frustration. “Liam, I told you before, Lily’s car accident had nothing to do with me. And I have no interest in bothering her,” I said, putting down the ice cream tub and looking at him directly. “I’m busy enjoying my life. I don’t have time to get involved in your drama.”

I paused, then added, “Don’t worry. As long as you keep making the deposits on time, I guarantee I’ll stay far away from you both. You can have your epic, angsty romance for all I care. I’ll just be a quiet, well-paid, on-paper Mrs. Scott. I won’t bother you.”

Was that direct enough? Was that checked-out enough for him?

But Liam’s expression darkened. He stared at me, his eyes complex. It wasn’t just simple disgust anymore. There was something else there.

Curiosity? Confusion? And a flicker of… offense?

“Vivienne,” he said, his voice hard. “You’d better mean that.”

“Of course,” I said, picking up my ice cream again. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Liam stood up, towering over me.

“For Grandfather’s party, dress appropriately,” he said as a parting shot. “Don’t embarrass yourself like last time.”

And then he was gone.

The door closed, sealing off the oppressive atmosphere he’d brought with him.

I rolled my eyes.

“Jerk.”

I went back to my ice cream. On the screen, the hero and heroine were finally reunited, crying in each other’s arms.

I started crying again too. This time, with them.