Chapter 1: Villainess at the Governor’s Table

For generations, my family’s been packed with loyal, heroic types—except, well, there’s my dad. That’s where the family legend hits a little speed bump. You know, the kind of story that gets told at Thanksgiving and everyone laughs, but then someone coughs and changes the subject.

Let’s be real: my dad’s the family black mark, at least if you trust the history books. He’s the kind of guy who ends up with his own footnote—one that makes people shake their heads, not clap. I swear, you can practically hear the old-timers whispering about him at the country club, like, “Remember Carter? Yeah, him.”

And me? I’m my father’s daughter, through and through. We’re the villains here—no sugarcoating it. The black sheep in a flock full of golden retrievers. That’s us. Honestly, it’s almost impressive.

Right now, my foot is pinning down the hand of Senator Jennings’s daughter, Natalie Jennings. The marble floor of the Governor’s mansion chills through my heel, and the silence in the room is so thick you could cut it with a steak knife. It’s one of those moments where time just stops, and everyone’s holding their breath.

No need to look—I already know: I’m that arrogant, spoiled, troublemaking villain everyone loves to hate. It’s basically my personal brand now. If there was a reality show about the worst rich kids in Manhattan, I’d be the season finale. Seriously, I’d win the crown.

Honestly, I’m the poster child for the Carter reputation. I was born for this role—like a Disney princess, but flipped inside out. Cue the dramatic music and the wicked stepmother’s cackle.

My dad is the current State Governor, and my granddad, and his dad before him—every one of them held high office. We’re what people call an old-money political dynasty. Our family photos hang in mahogany frames at the state capitol, and every single one looks like they’re already campaigning for something.

My mom? She’s the daughter of a Wall Street tycoon—she basically runs two-thirds of New York’s money. She’s the richest woman in the city, the kind who makes Fortune magazine covers look like those yearbook photos nobody wants to remember. She’s a legend, and she knows it.

And with all that power and influence, I’m still their only child. The lone fruit dangling off this high-powered family tree. No pressure, right? Just me, carrying all that legacy.

Some nobody’s kid, born to a junior staffer and not favored by anyone? Of course I could push her around. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call me out—not to my face, anyway. Not unless they want to be next on my list.

But obviously, being able to fight is one thing; fighting without thinking is another. Even at this table, there are lines you don’t cross. Or at least, you make sure nobody’s watching when you do.

Ethan Jennings watched the whole scene, cool as ice. Under his steady gaze, I quietly pulled my foot away. His eyes could freeze a bonfire, and suddenly I remembered: I have a reputation to maintain—not a criminal record. Priorities, right?

Natalie Jennings clutched her hand, head down, and started to sniffle. The sound was quiet, but in the echoing room, it was louder than a fire truck barreling down Fifth Avenue.

Everyone looked furious but no one dared to say a word—except for my best friend, Savannah Monroe. Savannah’s the kind of girl who could walk into a biker bar and come out with a free milkshake. No joke, she’s that good.

She cares about me a lot, and immediately asked, “Lex, did you hurt your foot when you stepped on her?” Her voice was syrupy sweet, but her eyes danced with trouble.

Birds of a feather flock together; she and I are about equally sensible—which is to say, not at all. —Not even a little bit.

If I stuck around any longer, I’d probably set off a riot, so I shot Savannah a look, eyes big and watery. “Come help me, my foot hurts so much I can’t walk.” I went full drama queen, milking the moment for everything it was worth.

With her help, I limped out of the crowd. No question, this story would be all over Manhattan by sunset. Gossip here travels faster than Uber Eats—no contest.

Me, the villainess Alexis Carter, infamous once again. I could already see the tabloid headlines: “Governor’s Daughter Strikes Again!” The paparazzi would eat it up.

But my parents didn’t even blink. They’d seen me do worse—probably expected it. Honestly, nothing fazes them anymore.

First, nobody would dare say anything bad about me in front of them; second, even if someone tried, my folks would just shrug it off. Loyalty runs deep in our house—sometimes so deep it’s a little scary. Like, “hide the evidence” deep.

As I stared at the Thanksgiving spread, my mind wasn’t on the turkey. I was plotting how to set up Ethan and Natalie Jennings without drawing attention. The turkey sat in the center, but my mind was already scheming next moves—not next bites.

Only then could my family and I have a way out. Manhattan is a jungle, and I was just trying to keep us off the endangered species list. Survival first, stuffing later.

Because in the book, I was always causing trouble—tormenting Natalie at school just for kicks. The kind of mean-girl stuff that would get you roasted on TikTok and canceled in a heartbeat.

That’s what made Ethan notice her, become her protector, and drag my whole family down—until we were all ruined. Like some twisted fairy tale, but with more lawyers and subpoenas.

Damn, what a plot twist. Wish I could just grab a pen and rewrite the ending. If only it were that easy, right?

Thinking of this, I tilted my head, ready to shoot daggers at Ethan to vent my frustration. My fork hovered over the mashed potatoes, but my mind was a million miles away, lost in “what ifs.”

But I accidentally met his gaze, so I spun around and looked at Natalie, sitting behind me to the right. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else—maybe even stuck in Jersey traffic.

Wow, so they were already getting close at this point. That stung more than I wanted to admit. —Ouch.

I poked at my mac and cheese with my fork, feeling low. The cheese strings clung to the tines, like they didn’t want to let go either. I totally got it.

Helping your own enemy find love—who wouldn’t be upset? It was like being the villain in your own rom-com. —Welcome to my life.

Savannah stopped me with a complicated look. “Lex, it’s not that bad.” She gave me a gentle nudge, her eyes doing that thing where she pretends not to care, but totally does.

I was about to explain when she added, “It’s not so bad that you’re angry just because you didn’t manage to kill her.” I nearly snorted my drink.

Truly my best friend. Only Savannah could make an insult sound like a pep talk—and somehow, it almost works.

I handed her my plate, grinning affectionately. “Be good, eat up, don’t talk anymore.” I added a wink, just to keep things light and breezy.

I snuck a glance at the Governor at the head of the table. He had that calm, dignified air—commanding respect without saying a word. The kind of man who could quiet a room just by raising an eyebrow. —Legend.

But at Thanksgiving dinner—a family holiday—you could see he was a little happier than usual. His smile was softer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. —A rare sight.

He held the youngest daughter, just a month old and born to the First Lady, beaming like he’d just won the lottery. The baby gurgled in his arms, blissfully unaware of the political storm swirling around her.

I couldn’t help glancing at Natalie again—the way she looked up was pure envy. She looked like she was memorizing every detail, as if it might slip away. —I almost felt sorry for her.

But before she could look away, maybe sensing my stare, she shrank a little. Her shoulders curled in, and she stared at her plate, cheeks flushed. —I knew that look all too well.

At that moment, my mom gently warned me, “Lexie, if you keep looking around and don’t mind your manners, you’ll lose your whole allowance this month.” Her tone was sweet as honey, but the threat was very, very real.

I smiled sweetly. “Yes, Mom, I’ll behave.” I folded my hands in my lap, channeling every etiquette lesson I’d ever had. —Fake it till you make it.

My mom nodded, satisfied, and went back to chatting with the other society ladies. Their laughter bubbled like champagne, full of practiced grace and just a hint of snark.

Speaking of my mom, she’s something else. Born into a business family, she never wanted anyone to look down on me for it. She wore her success like armor—and made sure I did too. —No one messes with a Carter.

So ever since I was little, she hired the best etiquette coaches in New York. My food, clothes, everything was top-notch, on par with the senator’s daughters. Ballet, French, fencing—you name it, I had a tutor for it. Sometimes I think I spent more time with my instructors than my own parents.

That’s why my mom’s hot buttons are easy to hit, like the following…

“I heard the Governor’s daughter attacked Senator Jennings’s daughter at the Governor’s mansion.” The words buzzed through the room, sharp as tacks. Everyone perked up, ready for the drama.

“Mr. President, this isn’t the first time this girl has crossed the line. If she isn’t reined in, this businesswoman’s daughter will get even more out of control!” The councilman’s voice dripped with self-importance, his tie just a little too tight. He looked like he’d pop a button any second.

Councilman Hughes was only able to attend this Thanksgiving dinner thanks to my dad’s influence, but he was already trying to bring my dad down. Some people never miss a chance to stir the pot. —Classic.

I looked at my dad anxiously, worried he’d be attacked by everyone. My heart thudded in my chest, and for a second, I wondered if I should just run for it. —Fight or flight?

Just as I was about to stand up and take the blame, my dad kept a straight face and started spinning it. He was a master at spinning the narrative—must be genetic. —I wish I had that superpower.

“This…” My dad lowered his head and smiled, then turned to pat my mom’s hand. His voice was calm, but his eyes flashed with warning. —Don’t mess with us.

“Councilman Hughes, you’re putting me in a tough spot. How can kids’ arguments be called a fight or a breach of etiquette?” He let the words hang, daring anyone to disagree. The silence was deafening.

“My Lexie is the only daughter my wife and I have. Are you criticizing her because you have a problem with me?” The room went dead silent, tension thick as gravy. You could hear a pin drop.

I fell silent, turning to comfort my mom, but saw her, just after putting away her smile, step out in tears and appeal directly to the President and First Lady. Her mascara was perfectly in place, but her expression was pure heartbreak. —Oscar-worthy.

“Mr. President, Madam First Lady, I know I’m not as important as Councilman Hughes, but the Carter family has always been upstanding.” Her voice quivered, just enough to draw sympathy. The room leaned in.

“That honorary ‘First State Merchant’ title was personally given by President Grant. Today, in Councilman Hughes’ mouth, it’s become a weapon to attack my child. I beg you to be fair.” She dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief, the picture of wounded dignity. —She nailed it.

Councilman Hughes probably didn’t expect my mom’s tongue to be even sharper than his; he was so mad his face turned red and he nearly fainted. He clutched his wine glass, knuckles white. —Rough day for Hughes.

My dad, Governor Carter, quickly caught him, then stepped up to the President at the head of the table. “Sir, we’re being wronged!” His voice rang out, echoing off the crystal chandeliers. The drama was real.

Well, dinner was over. The turkey was forgotten, and the tension in the room could have powered the city for a week. —So much for dessert.

Before leaving, I saw Natalie and Ethan talking together. To be honest, they really looked like a good match. Their laughter was soft, private—a world apart from the drama swirling around us.

I glanced again at the President’s expression; he was a seasoned actor, impossible to read. His poker face was legendary. —I could learn a thing or two.

But I still felt uneasy, shivered, and decided to go home and talk things over with my parents. The night air outside bit at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. —Not a great night.

But I never expected that after thinking for two days at home about what to say, Savannah would land me in even bigger trouble. Trouble seemed to follow us around like a lost puppy. —Typical.