Luciana Moretti, aged eighty-seven, stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of her penthouse, a crystal glass of the world’s most expensive wine held loosely in her hand. The city glittered below her, a tapestry of cold, distant lights. She took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring the rich vintage as it slid down her throat, and released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of decades.

Her gaze drifted to the elegant cover of the novel resting on the console beside her—Unhappy Wife. The story, a bestseller, followed a young woman named Laura Petro, sold by her family into a marriage with a powerful, handsome, dreadfully wealthy vampire and his two insufferable twin sons. Laura, of course, despised them all. Her heart belonged to a simple, kind-hearted baron. According to the plot, the vampire and his brats met gruesome, timely ends, freeing Laura to wed her true love and live happily ever after.

“Balderdash,” Luciana murmured, her lips twisting in a frown. She took another defiant sip. Her doctors had forbidden alcohol, but she was going to die of something. Her personal motto, a twist on the old adage, came to mind: What doesn’t kill you makes you fatter.It had served her well.

She was Luciana Moretti, once a titan of Italian commerce—rich, beautiful, and formidably sensual. She had carved her empire from nothing. Yet, her long life stretched behind her like a gallery of beautifully framed failures, each one a marriage. The core issue was always the same: she could not bear children. Men, she learned—through stinging, repeated lessons—might pretend otherwise, but they always, alwayswanted a woman who could give them heirs. “Love you no matter what” was a pretty lie, exposed every time by the eventual discovery of a fertile mistress. Luciana had been left with palaces, portfolios, and a soul-deep conviction forged in the fires of betrayal.

“Love,” she said to the silent, opulent room, her voice scraped thin by old pain. “A pretty fantasy humans invented to make the misery more palatable.” She had believed in it once. She had been shown, with brutal clarity, how useless that belief was. Love did not exist.

A sudden, vicious pain speared through her chest. The crystal glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor with a sound like a gunshot. Dizziness swamped her, the glittering city lights blurring into streaks.

So, this is it,she thought, a strange, bitter taste flooding her mouth. My finale.She had put her affairs in perfect order. Her so-called family—vultures who saw her only as a bottomless purse—would find nothing. Every lira, every property, every stock was willed to foundations for orphans, sick children, and the terminally ill. Let her nieces and nephews with their surgically enhanced curves actually work for a change. Let them sweat.

A faint, triumphant smile touched Luciana’s lips as her legs gave way. She collapsed onto the plush, divinely expensive silk of her sofa, the last breath leaving her body in a soft, final sigh, swallowed by the indifferent glow of the city she had once owned.

I open my eyes and stare at a strange, vintage-style ceiling.

I thought I was dead… Could the cleaning lady have found me and taken me to the hospital?

I slowly sit up in bed, but it feels strange not to feel the severe back pain I was used to.

"That's weird… Did they give me strong medication or something?"

I rub my eyes to get a better look at the room, and I’m surprised to feel my face soft and without wrinkles.

"But… what…"

My mouth falls open as I touch my hair—soft, thick, and long. I’ve always kept it short because it made me feel hot… How long have I been here for it to grow so much?

My eyes go to my hands, and I see soft, delicate, very fair skin.

"I'm dreaming."

I murmur again. In one leap, I’m on my feet, looking at my body. I touch my breasts, which are very perky and rather full.

"My breasts were saggy… This has to be a dream."

I speak, and my voice is different—softer, more delicate. It feels strange.

I look for a mirror but don’t see one. I start walking, feeling strange not to feel the pain in my knees.

I look at my slender arm and, like the girls in K-dramas, pinch myself hard.

"Ouch, that hurt."

I complain, rubbing the spot, but before I can process what’s happening, the door is knocked on, and I jump in fright.

I stay quiet, but the knocking comes again, more insistent.

"Come in."

I say as I have said many times, but this time my voice comes out more delicate and soft.

The door opens immediately. A girl dressed as an old-style maid, her face serious, enters with her head bowed and curtsies.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Cortes, but it's been a month since you've left this room. The Master demands your presence for breakfast."

She says in a low voice, and I frown in confusion.

"What?"

"Madam, I know you said not to bother you, but those are the Master’s orders."

She gestures with her hand, and five girls dressed the same way enter and walk toward me without a word.

Not knowing what to do, I stay where I am. The women begin touching me, removing each garment I’m wearing, and then lead me to another vast room.

I see a beautiful bathtub with luxurious gilded edges.

"My lady, I am sorry it has to be this way, but I must follow the Master’s orders."

"Alright, Lidia."

I frown as I say her name, and fragments of memory come to mind, bringing a sharp headache. I have no more time to think as the women help me into the wonderfully scented tub and begin to gently wash me.

I close my eyes, feeling them pamper me, and relax, enjoying the moment.

"This is wonderful."

I murmur with a sigh of satisfaction.

"If this is a dream… I'm going to enjoy it to the fullest."

I murmur to myself.

The girls help me out of the water and dry me, performing a whole ritual that I truly love, surrounded by rich, delicate scents.

I don’t lift a finger, just letting them pat here, smooth there, give me light massages, comb my hair, and tend to my face until they finish.

"Alright, you may leave."

I hear Lidia’s voice and open my eyes.

"There is the mirror, my lady. I know you dislike looking at yourself, but please try."

She points to a large mirror. I walk toward it, my mouth falling open when I see myself.

Wow… I’m beautiful.

I think, touching my face, my nose, my lips… my hair… What beautiful red hair I have.

"I don’t like this dress."

I murmur, frowning.

"Did you say something, my lady?"

"No."

I give her a sidelong smile, and she simply nods.

"Good. Then follow me, madam. The Master is already waiting."

I say nothing and follow the maid through long, dark, seemingly endless corridors.

I pass a huge window; looking outside, everything is dark, so I deduce it is night.

After going down some long staircases, Lidia walks to another short corridor and opens a pair of enormous marble doors.

"My lady, please don’t anger the Master. I know he is not to your liking, but please be patient with him."

She steps aside, and I enter a luxurious, brightly lit room with a grand dining area.

"You’re late."

A low, husky voice makes me look in that direction immediately.

"For heaven’s sake."

With firm yet delicate steps, I walk over and take a seat next to the handsome man who, upon closer inspection, is even more beautiful.

“I’m not hungry anymore, Father. May I be excused?”

I hear a tiny, delicate voice and turn my gaze toward four eyes glaring at me. Then, the girl smiles mischievously, making me raise an eyebrow.

She is beautiful, but at first glance, she looks spoiled. The boy, on the other hand, shows no change in expression and simply looks at me with distaste.

“You may leave after dinner.”

I hold my breath upon hearing that husky voice, which stirs some rather improper thoughts in me.

As expected, the girl throws a tantrum fit for a spanking, but she doesn’t leave her chair, merely crossing her arms in anger.

My hands itch to correct her, but I maintain my composure while taking a deep breath I desperately need.

Several servants arrive with numerous dishes, arranging everything with great delicacy and care—it’s almost too beautiful to touch.

The servants give an exaggerated bow and then withdraw.

The handsome man beside me begins to serve himself, and the children and I follow suit.

I savor the delicious food with pleasure. Everything is truly tasty, perfectly cooked.

I glance up at the children, and one of my eyes begins to twitch when I see them pushing the vegetables aside.

“No, no… You must eat your vegetables as well.”

I speak in a serious tone, but my voice comes out soft and delicate.

“We don’t eat that, and you can’t make us,” the girl says haughtily.

I furrow my brow, looking at her sternly. “You will not leave this table until you finish all your vegetables.”

My tone is slow and measured.

“Father!”

She calls to him in a shrill voice. He merely glances at his food.

“You heard her. That is enough.”

Both children glare at me angrily, but I simply give a wry smile as I bring a piece of roasted chicken to my mouth… Mmm, delicious.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch them hastily eat all their vegetables until their plates are clean.

“We’re done. Happy?” the girl asks.

I smile and nod, setting my utensils down delicately. “Quite.”

The girl just frowns, and the boy stares intently at his father.

“My sister and I have finished. May we be excused?” The way the boy speaks surprises me; he sounds like an adult.

“You may leave.”

At his word, both children depart quickly without a backward glance.

I try to rise, but his voice stops me. I look at him.

“We depart for the capital tomorrow. The Emperor’s birthday is in three days, and I must arrive with time to spare.”

“Mmm. Understood.”

“I will tolerate no tantrums or childishness. I have had my fill these past two years. Conduct yourself as a duchess worthy of my station.”

His expression is severe. I watch as he rises from his seat. Before leaving, he adds, “We leave after breakfast. I expect no… inconveniences.”

I merely watch his broad back as he leaves me seated in solitude at the enormous table.

“This dream is getting rather complicated,” I whisper, getting up to leave as well. I’ve no intention of staying alone in this desolate place.

“You did very well, my lady. Simply do not anger His Lordship, and all will be well,” the maid says. I merely nod as we walk back down the hall.

Upon reaching the room, the maid helps me undress and into a strange, unattractive nightgown. I pay it little mind, throwing myself onto the bed and falling asleep immediately.

(…)

I open my eyes abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest… All the memories of this body came to me as I slept, and the truth is, I am not in a dream.

I am inside the story of the last novel I read…

“Damn. My luck is truly terrible,” I murmur, getting out of bed and beginning to pace the immense, luxurious room.

“My name is Laura Petro, wife to a powerful vampire named Victor Cortes, and stepmother to twin children—half vampire, half human…”

My gaze falls on the bottom drawer of the nightstand. I walk over and find several letters that this body’s previous owner kept from her beloved, Richard Harrison… Was she mad? Having such a stunning husband… and pining for a good-for-nothing? Unbelievable.

I jump in fright as the door is knocked on, shutting the drawer immediately.

“Come in.”

The same woman from yesterday enters. According to this body’s memories, she is Laura Petro’s personal maid, Lidia.

“You are awake, my lady,” she says. I nod without a word.

She approaches and stealthily hands me a letter. “The Baron says he will be waiting for you after breakfast, my lady.”

I furrow my brow and narrow my eyes. “Burn it.”

“Pardon?” she asks, surprised.

“Burn the letter, Lidia. From now on, we accept no more letters from Lord Harrison.”

Lidia looks at me in astonishment but gives a small bow. “As you command, my lady.”

She walks toward the fireplace.

“Lidia.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Burn the other letters in the drawer as well. I want no trace of Baron Harrison left.”