I died at twenty-eight, crushed by a chandelier at my own book awards ceremony.
I woke up at nineteen, in the body of the villainess I'd written—six months before her execution.
"Fuck."
"MY LADY!" My maid—Marie, according to the memories flooding my brain—clutched her chest. "Your language!"
I ignored her, staring at my reflection. Violet eyes. Silver-blonde hair. A face so beautiful it was almost inhuman.
Seraphina Nightingale.
The villainess from my bestselling novel *The Saintess's Radiant Love*. The character I'd killed off in the most dramatic execution scene possible.
And now I was her.
My hands trembled as I grabbed the letter on the nightstand. The Crown Prince's seal glared back at me in red wax.
*"I'm breaking our engagement to marry the Saintess instead. Don't contact me again. - Theodore"*
Shorter and crueler than I'd even written it.
"When did this arrive?" I demanded.
"An hour ago, my lady. You fainted after reading it."
An hour. Which meant I had approximately six months before the Spring Ball—where original Seraphina would try to poison the heroine, get caught, and lose her head.
Literally.
"What's today's date?"
Marie blinked. "March 15th, my lady."
I did the math. Six months until September 15th. The Spring Ball. Execution day.
My stomach churned.
"Leave me," I said.
"But my lady—"
"NOW."
The moment she left, I tore through Seraphina's desk. There had to be something—letters, plans, anything that could tell me what she'd been plotting.
I found it in the hidden drawer.
A journal. Detailed schedules of the Saintess's movements. Notes on poisons. Guard rotations at the palace.
*"Six months to make Lily disappear,"* read the last entry in Seraphina's handwriting. *"Theodore will be mine again."*
"Oh, you psychotic bitch," I whispered to my past self. "You made her WAY too competent."
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Seraphina."
That voice—deep, cold, commanding—sent chills down my spine.
The Duke. Seraphina's father.
He didn't wait for permission. The door crashed open, and he stormed in—a mountain of a man in military dress, silver hair, ice-blue eyes burning with fury.
"Did that BOY break your engagement?"
In my original story, Seraphina cried to Daddy. He promised revenge. They plotted together. Both ended up dead.
Not this time.
I steeled myself. "Yes."
"Then we'll—"
"I'm done with him."
The Duke froze.
"What?"
"I said I'm done." I met his eyes, forcing confidence I didn't feel. "I won't chase a man who doesn't want me. I'll accept the broken engagement and move on."
For three long seconds, he just stared.
Then he smiled.
It was terrifying.
"I see. You're going to make him *regret* this." His eyes gleamed. "Pretend to accept it, lower his guard, then strike. Clever girl."
"That's not what I—"
"Don't worry. I'll support you when the time comes." He patted my shoulder. "Just say the word."
He left before I could explain.
I stood there, heart pounding.
Okay. New plan. The Duke thought I was scheming. Theodore thought I was heartbroken. The entire court expected me to cause drama.
And the real Seraphina had left behind enough evidence to execute me three times over.
"I am so screwed."
---
'THREE DAYS LATER'
The royal summons arrived at breakfast.
*"Lady Seraphina Nightingale is cordially invited to the Crown Prince's engagement celebration..."*
I crumpled the invitation. "He's inviting me to watch him propose to my replacement?"
"Standard protocol, my lady," Marie said nervously. "All former engagées must attend to show there's no bad blood."
"No bad blood? He dumped me via LETTER!"
But I had no choice. Refusing a royal summons was treason.
Which meant in three days, I'd be face-to-face with Theodore and Lily—the hero and heroine whose love story required my death to reach its happy ending.
I needed a plan.
---
**THE ENGAGEMENT CELEBRATION - ROYAL PALACE**
I'd forgotten how much I'd hated writing ballroom scenes.
The Grand Hall glittered with crystal chandeliers (I flinched), golden columns, and enough nobles to fill a small country. Everyone dripped in jewels and fake smiles.
And every single eye turned to me when I entered.
"That's her," someone whispered. "The discarded fiancée."
"I heard she fainted from shock."
"Poor thing. How humiliating."
I kept my head high, channeling every ounce of dignity I could fake.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
And there, at the center of the room, stood Theodore.
Crown Prince Theodore Asterian. Tall, golden-haired, classically handsome in his royal blue uniform. The male lead I'd designed to be every woman's fantasy.
Next to him stood Lily.
The Saintess. The heroine. Brown hair, doe eyes, a soft pink dress that screamed "pure and innocent."
She looked terrified.
Theodore looked smug.
Our eyes met across the ballroom.
For a moment, I saw something flicker in his expression—guilt? Concern?
Then it hardened into cold indifference.
He raised his glass. "Lords and ladies, thank you for celebrating with us tonight. As you know, I've chosen my bride—Saintess Lily, blessed by the Goddess herself."
Polite applause. Lily blushed.
"And I'd like to thank Lady Seraphina for understanding the importance of this union."
Every eye swiveled to me.
This was it. The moment that would set the tone for everything.
In my original story, Seraphina caused a scene. Threw wine. Screamed. Guaranteed her villain status.
I couldn't do that.
But I also couldn't look weak.
I stepped forward, and the crowd held its breath.
"Your Highness." I curtsied perfectly. "I wish you both every happiness."
Shocked murmurs rippled through the hall.
Theodore's eyes narrowed. He'd expected drama.
But I wasn't done.
"However," I continued, my voice carrying across the silent room, "I must ask one favor."
"What favor?" Theodore's tone was wary.
I smiled—sweet, innocent, dangerous.
"Return the engagement gifts I gave you over the years. The jewelry, the books, the family heirlooms. Since we're no longer engaged, it's only proper."
His face went pale.
Because in noble society, keeping engagement gifts after a broken engagement was an insult. It implied the receiver was greedy, ungrateful.
If he refused, he'd look petty.
If he agreed, he'd have to publicly return thousands of gold worth of presents.
Either way, I'd made my point: I wasn't going to roll over.
The room erupted in whispers.
Theodore's jaw clenched. "Of course. I'll have them sent tomorrow."
"How gracious, Your Highness." I curtsied again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've said my piece."
I turned to leave—
And came face-to-face with a man I'd never seen before.
He was tall, dark-haired, with eyes like polished obsidian. Handsome in a sharp, dangerous way that made Theodore look like a choir boy.
He wore black—full black, in a room full of pastels and gold.
And he was smiling at me like I was the most interesting thing he'd seen in years.
"Lady Seraphina," his voice was smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
My blood ran cold.
Because I knew who this was.
I'd written him as a minor character—a villain who appeared in the second half of the story.
Duke Kieran Valerius. The Obsessive Yandere. The man who fell in love with Seraphina and went on a murder spree when she died.
He wasn't supposed to meet Seraphina until chapter forty.
So why was he here NOW?
"I..." My voice failed me.
He took my hand, his touch cold, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
"I've been looking for you," he whispered.
The lights flickered.
And somewhere in the crowd, a woman screamed.
END OF CHAPTER 1
Next Chapter Preview:
Someone's been poisoned at the engagement party—and all evidence points to Seraphina. With a mysterious duke who shouldn't exist yet and a murder she didn't commit, our MC realizes the plot has gone completely off the rails. Survival just got a lot more complicated.