Chapter 1: The Villainess Wakes Up

When I realized I was the villainess in one of those over-the-top CEO romances, I’d already been married to the CEO for two years.

I remember the moment with a clarity that almost hurt—like a sudden spotlight in a dark theater. Honestly, it nearly knocked the wind out of me. Turns out, according to the story, I only had six months left before I’d have to step aside for the real heroine. Those six months were supposed to be spent digging my own grave while conveniently helping the main couple fall in love. The universe sure had a twisted sense of humor.

— I —

This morning, like always, I made my husband his favorite bacon-and-egg sandwich and poured his coffee—fresh, just the way he likes it. I fixed his tie, fastened his cufflinks, and sent him off at the door. Watching his Tesla disappear down the oak-lined street, just like every other day, a sudden flash of memory hit me, and everything I’d forgotten came rushing back.

The sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the porch, but I barely noticed. My hands went cold. It hit like a revelation—an instant, overwhelming clarity. My knees nearly buckled, and for a second, I had to lean against the doorframe just to keep from sliding to the floor.

Here’s what happened:

Twenty-five years ago, I was reborn into this novel’s world, carrying memories from my previous life. At first, I didn’t realize I’d ended up in a book. Not until a man grinned so wide his eyes disappeared and said, “Baby, we finally have a name! We’ll call you Mariah Brooks—‘Mariah’ from your mom, ‘Brooks’ from me. How about it?”

His voice was warm, full of that dad-joke pride only a Midwestern father could muster. He had that way of making every announcement sound like a punchline. Mark Brooks was the man in front of me—my dad. As for Mariah, well, that had to be my mom.

Mariah Brooks. Mark loves Mariah. Cute. Still, honestly... kinda cheesy.

I remember thinking, "God, Dad, that's the sort of thing you tell at every barbecue until your kids want to disappear under the table." The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I didn’t think much of it. With such an unoriginal name, it was probably common.

Then he added, “My daughter’s so pretty. Yesterday, old Mr. Sanders tried to set up a future engagement between Mariah and his son. Hmph, wishful thinking.”

A gentle female voice chimed in, “Haha, I actually think little Sam would be a good match. Our families know each other well, so we wouldn’t have to worry about our daughter being bullied.”

“He wouldn’t dare! I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt my daughter!”

…I didn’t catch what they said after that. My mind was stuck on the name “Little Sam?” What kind of nickname was that?

Sanders. Little Sam. Sam Sanders. Sam Sanders!

In that instant, I finally realized why Mariah Brooks sounded so familiar. These were the characters from the book I’d just finished reading before being reborn!

It was a CEO romance novel: one brooding CEO, one sweet heroine. The CEO was Sam Sanders, cold, unsmiling, the classic boss. The sweet heroine was Nina Summers, a bright, warm, sunny little secretary.

A newcomer to the workplace, she faced endless setbacks and challenges, but she still approached life with hope and enthusiasm. Her innocence and perseverance caught the CEO’s eye. Instead of blaming her for her mistakes, he helped her out time and again. Gradually, the big boss’s curiosity turned into deep affection.

Their romantic story unfolded from there. You know the type.

But for a love story to have staying power, there always have to be a few obstacles. Classic. That’s where I—Mariah Brooks—came in.

Mariah Brooks and Sam Sanders grew up together, childhood sweethearts, with their families arranging the marriage. As soon as they were old enough, they got married and signed the paperwork.

Or maybe, before Nina Summers appeared, Sam Sanders didn’t even know what love was. His life and relationships seemed preordained; he just followed the script.

But Nina Summers was like a ray of sunlight, breaking the stagnant surface and stirring feelings Sam Sanders never knew he had.

Just to be clear, nothing shady ever happened. There were plenty of sparks, but nothing inappropriate between them.

That’s when Mariah Brooks, the wife, entered the scene. She quickly noticed her husband’s odd behavior and tracked down Nina Summers. Then came the classic moves: intimidation, bullying, trying to sabotage Nina Summers. None of it worked—instead, it made Sam Sanders realize how much he cared about Nina.

Way to go, me.

After repeated drama, Sam Sanders grew to resent Mariah Brooks and eventually asked for a divorce. She refused. Desperate, she even had Nina kidnapped, hoping to destroy her.

That was the last straw. Sam Sanders struck back hard, took down the Brooks family, and gave Mariah a taste of her own medicine—throwing her to a group of thugs. Mariah Brooks died quietly, off the page.

Sam Sanders and Nina Summers lived happily ever after and had twins.

Happy ending!

Yeah, right!

When I realized I was living inside the book, I had only one goal: stay alive and stay far, far away from Sam Sanders!

And I did…

Well, until I was three.

Before I turned three, I made it clear how much I hated Sam Sanders. I’d cry whenever I saw him. If he got close, I’d bite. If I had milk in my mouth, I’d spit it at him. If I had to pee, I’d wait for him to come near and let loose. Yeah, I was that kid.

Sam—“Little Sam” back then—would run away the moment he saw me. I was pleased. No regrets. I figured if I kept it up, we’d be strangers for life.

But fate had other plans.

On my third birthday—smack!—it was like something hit my head, and I completely forgot about being in a book. All I could see was Sam Sanders’s devastatingly handsome face.

For the next twenty-two years, I became his biggest fangirl, chasing after him every day. He never seemed to mind—maybe even enjoyed it—and never once pushed me away. That only fueled my obsession, and before I knew it, we got married.

No, scratch that—married into my own grave! Some honeymoon.

Standing outside our suburban home, I pinched my thigh so hard I nearly cried. Damn it, I got blinded by his looks!

Back inside, the untouched sandwiches and steaming coffee still sat on the dining table. Come to think of it, Sam Sanders stopped eating my breakfast four days ago. He’d just say, “It’s too early. I’m not hungry.”

I didn’t think much of it and kept making breakfast every day. I always thought, Maybe he’ll be hungry today? What if he is and there’s nothing to eat?

But now, with my memories back, I finally understood. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry—he was saving room for Nina Summers’s breakfast at the office.

Nina Summers said coffee wasn’t good in the morning. Or so she claimed. She said sandwiches weren’t “real food.”

Nina Summers said, “I love fresh orange juice and homemade blueberry muffins, and the oatmeal I make myself. Mr. Sanders, you should try it!”

Yikes... Ugh!

I rubbed my chest. It hurt. Damn it. What was I supposed to do now?