Episode 1: The Novel I Should’ve Never Read 🙂‍↕️

There were three things I loved in life.

Food.

Sleeping.

And reading toxic romance novels while judging every character like my opinion mattered.

At exactly 2:43 a.m., I was doing the third one.

Curled up in my bed, wrapped in a blanket like a depressed burrito, I stared at my phone screen with swollen eyes and zero self-respect.

My college assignments were abandoned.

My room looked like a crime scene.

Empty snack packets covered my desk.

A half-finished iced coffee sat beside my bed.

And yet, none of that mattered.

Because I was currently reading the most viral novel on the internet.

Vows & Vendettas.

Everyone on the internet would’t shut up about it.

"The best dark romance ever."

"The ending will destroy you."

"Jae Venlon owns my soul."

That last comment alone should’ve warned me.

At first, the story was addictive.

Powerful families.

Luxury.

Scandals.

A gorgeous female lead.

Dangerously attractive men with enough emotional trauma to fill an ocean.

It was dramatic perfection.

Until I reached the final chapter.

And my happiness died.

I blinked at my screen.

Then reread the paragraph.

Then reread it again.

My jaw dropped.

“No.”

I sat upright.

“No no no.”

I scrolled down faster.

And there it was.

The female lead…

Natasha Williams

was dead.

Dead.

DEAD.

After surviving family wars.

After enduring betrayal.

After carrying that entire story on her back while everyone around her acted insane—

she dies?

I stared at my screen in pure rage.

“What kind of ending is this?!”

My pillow was thrown across the room.

My blanket became a victim.

Even my poor stuffed bear got dragged into my emotional breakdown.

“She survived all that nonsense just to die because two men couldn’t control their issues?!”

I opened the comments section.

Big mistake.

People were crying.

People were romanticizing toxic men.

And worst of all—

people were defending Jae Venlon.

I nearly threw my phone.

“That manipulative psychopath has fans?!”

Fueled by rage and sleep deprivation, I typed:

Natasha deserved better.

The men need therapy.

The author needs jail.

I paused.

Then added one final line.

If I were Natasha, I would’ve survived.

Satisfied, I posted it.

My phone flashed.

1% battery remaining.

Of course.

I plugged it in and glanced at the clock.

8:17 a.m.

My soul left my body.

My first class started at 8:30.

“Oh my god.”

Chaos exploded.

I ran into the bathroom.

Brushed my teeth at dangerous speed.

Changed clothes.

Grabbed my bag.

And sprinted out of my apartment like a wanted criminal.

By the time I reached the street, I was exhausted.

My hair was a mess.

My shoelace was half open.

And somehow—

I was still rereading the final chapter while walking.

Because apparently I had no survival instincts.

“This ending is still stupid,” I muttered.

A loud horn screamed through the air.

My body froze.

Bright headlights rushed toward me.

My phone slipped from my hands.

Time slowed.

The screams around me faded.

Then—

impact.

Pain exploded through my body.

And everything went black.

…

…

…

A soft voice echoed through the darkness.

“Lady Natasha…”

My eyebrows twitched.

What?

“Lady Natasha, please wake up.”

Another voice trembled.

“The engagement ceremony begins in two hours.”

My eyes flew open.

Golden chandeliers sparkled above me.

Massive silk curtains surrounded a bed bigger than my entire apartment.

The air smelled like roses and expensive perfume.

Several maids stood around me in panic.

One of them nearly fainted when I sat up.

“Lady Natasha!”

I ignored her.

My trembling hands reached toward the mirror beside the bed.

And my entire world stopped.

Long black hair.

Pale flawless skin.

Sharp elegant features.

A face so beautiful it didn’t look real.

I knew that face.

I knew it too well.

It belonged to the woman whose death made me rage all night.

Natasha Williams.

My breathing turned uneven.

“No…”

The maid looked confused.

“Lady Natasha?”

I slowly looked at her.

Then in the luxurious room.

Then back at the mirror.

And screamed.

“WHY THE HELL AM I HER?!”

Episode 2: What The Hell Is Happening?

“This has to be a dream.”

I stared at my reflection in complete horror.

Then I blinked.

The reflection blinked back.

“Nope.”

I slapped my cheek.

Hard.

“OW—SHIT.”

Yeah.

That hurt.

Definitely not a dream.

I looked around the massive bedroom again.

Floor-to-ceiling windows.

Designer furniture.

Luxury handbags casually thrown on a couch.

A giant TV mounted on the wall.

An iPhone charging on the nightstand.

And—

wait.

I grabbed the phone.

Newest model.

“...okay thank god.”

At least I wasn’t thrown into some historical nonsense where people communicate through pigeons and die from paper cuts.

I opened the phone.

Face ID unlocked instantly.

“Oh my god.”

I was actually Natasha Williams.

Holy shit.

Holy actual shit.

I looked at the maids—well…personal assistants?

Stylists?

Rich people employees?

Whatever.

They were staring at me like I was unstable.

Which was fair.

“Did I get hit by a truck and wake up inside a fictional universe?”

Silence.

One woman slowly nodded toward another.

“She hit her head harder than we thought.”

“I HEARD THAT.”

I started pacing around the room.

“No no no no.”

This was insane.

This only happened in weird novels and anime.

People don’t just die and enter books.

That’s psychotic.

That’s illegal.

I died because I was angry over fictional men?

Embarrassing.

Absolutely humiliating.

I suddenly froze.

Wait.

If this was really Vows & Vendettas—

Then this was still the beginning.

Before Natasha’s death.

Before her forced marriage.

Before the obsession.

Before all the insane betrayal.

Before Jae’s psycho era.

I still had time.

I could leave.

I could literally disappear.

Natasha was filthy rich.

Like private-jet rich.

“Wait…”

I opened her bank app.

And nearly screamed.

“Oh my god—I’m loaded.”

One assistant gasped.

“Miss Natasha!”

“Do you know what this means?!”

They stared at me nervously.

“I can leave these toxic people behind.”

Beach house.

Cocktails.

Dogs.

Peace.

No emotionally damaged billionaires.

No psychopath best friend.

No tragic death.

Perfect.

I quickly started shoving designer bags with jewelry.

Cash.

Cards.

Passport.

Everything.

One assistant panicked.

“Miss Natasha, what are you doing?!”

“Escaping trauma.”

“Your father will kill us!”

“At least you’ll be alive unlike me if I stay here!”

They looked terrified.

Understandable.

I was halfway toward the door when loud footsteps echoed downstairs.

Then—

gunshots.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

I froze.

“…what the fuck?”

Everyone in the room went silent.

Another gunshot echoed.

Then screaming downstairs.

My soul nearly left my body.

“WHY ARE THERE GUNS?!”

One assistant looked confused.

“…your families are mafia rivals.”

Right.

Right.

I forgot that tiny detail.

This wasn’t just rich people drama.

This was rich criminal empire drama.

Even worse.

Before I could process anything—

my bedroom door opened.

And everything inside me stopped functioning.

A man walked in wearing a black suit with blood splattered across his white shirt sleeve.

He looked completely unbothered.

Dark messy hair.

Sharp jawline.

Tattoo peeking from his neck.

Cold gray eyes.

And a gun casually hanging from his hand.

He was horrifyingly attractive.

Which pissed me off.

He glanced at my packed bags.

Then at me.

His lips curved into a dangerous smirk.

“Running away before our engagement party, Natasha?”

My jaw dropped.

No.

No no no.

Not him.

Damian Ashford.

The male lead.

The walking red flag.

The reason Natasha needed therapy.

And why was he hotter in real life?!

This was unfair.

He stepped closer.

“Missed me?”

I stared at him in horror.

Then blurted—

“You’re way hotter than I imagined.”

Silence.

Everyone froze.

Damian blinked.

I blinked.

Oh.

Oh no.

Why would I say that out loud?!

Damian stared at me...

..

I stared at Damian.

The entire room went silent...

..

Even the assistants looked like they wanted to disappear into another dimension.

My brain finally processed what had just happened.

You’re way hotter than I imagined.

Out loud.

To the male lead.

The same man who ruined Natasha’s life.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

I forced out an awkward laugh.

“Haha…”

Nobody laughed.

I wanted to pass away for the second time.

“That came out wrong,” I blurted quickly. “Not that you’re not attractive—because unfortunately, you are very attractive which is honestly annoying—but I meant—”

Why was I still talking?

Why?

“I mean—I expected you to be uglier because of your personality.”

Silence.

Even worse silence.

One of the assistants gasped so loudly I thought she was dying.

Damian slowly tilted his head.

His expression remained unreadable.

Then—

he laughed.

I froze.

Wait.

What?

In the novel, Damian Ashford barely smiled.

And yet right now—

he was actually laughing.

A deep low laugh.

The kind that made him look even more unfairly attractive.

This was bad.

Very bad.

He suddenly stepped closer.

Then closer.

Then closer.

Until I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with gunpowder.

Wait—

gunpowder?

I looked down.

Blood stained the sleeve of his white shirt.

And there it was.

A gun.

An actual gun.

In his hand.

My soul almost left my body.

“WHY DO YOU HAVE A GUN?!”

He looked confused.

“…your family shot at mine first.”

Right.

Right.

The mafia rivalry.

Totally forgot that tiny detail.

Normal day.

I nodded nervously.

“Understandable.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Understandable?”

“Yep.”

“You’re unusually calm.”

“I’m internally screaming.”

That seemed to amuse him even more.His eyes slowly moved from my face…

to the suitcase near my bed.

Then the passport sticking out of my bag.

His expression darkened.

“Were you planning to run away from our engagement?”

…shit.

Episode 3: Why Are You Acting Weird?

“Were you planning to run away from our engagement?”

…shit.

I looked at Damian.

Damian looked at me.

Then slowly—

both of us looked at the suitcase beside my bed.

“Okay,” I said carefully. “This looks bad.”

“It looks like you’re escaping.”

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds dramatic.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Natasha.”

“Fine,” I sighed dramatically. “Yes. I was trying to leave.”

The assistants behind us gasped like I had confessed to murder.

Honestly, escaping toxic rich men should count as self-care.

“You were going to leave me at our engagement party?” Damian asked.

“Would you prefer I embarrass you publicly instead?”

Silence.

One assistant whispered, “Oh my god…”

I pointed at her immediately.

“Exactly.”

To my surprise—

Damian laughed quietly.

I froze.

Wait.

No.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

In the novel, Damian Ashford barely smiled unless someone was actively dying.

So why was he laughing?!

Which honestly should’ve been illegal.

Nobody should look that good while holding a gun.

Actually— wait gun? Damn!!

why was he STILL holding the gun?!

My eyes suddenly dropped toward the weapon still resting in his hand.

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Are we just ignoring the fact that you walked into my bedroom carrying a gun?”

He glanced at it casually.

“Your cousin tried shooting me downstairs.”

“Oh.”

I paused.

“Did he succeed?”

Damian looked offended and said sarcastically.

“ you think? .”

“I’m just checking.”

Then casually, like he’d forgotten he was holding a deadly weapon, he tucked the gun behind his back.

“That better?”

“No. But thank you for the effort.”

To my surprise—

the corner of his lips twitched again.

Oh no.

The male lead was finding me entertaining.

That felt dangerous.

“You’re strange today,” he said suddenly.

Crap.

Right.

Original Natasha.

Elegant.

Quiet.

Graceful.

Meanwhile I was standing here arguing with a mafia heir while wearing pajamas and trying not to panic.

“I hit my head?” I offered weakly.

“With enough force to replace your personality?”

“That’s honestly possible.”

His grey eyes stayed on me.

Observing.

Studying.

Like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

It made me nervous.

Not because he was scary.

Okay maybe a little because he was scary.

But mostly because I knew how Damian Ashford ended.

Cold.

Possessive.

Manipulative.

Emotionally damaged.

And unfortunately attractive.

The deadliest combination.

I quickly grabbed my suitcase again.

“Anyway! I’m leaving before this story gets traumatic.”

“You’re still leaving?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

I blinked.

“…excuse me?”

“You’re not leaving.”

The calm confidence in his voice irritated me immediately.

Sir.

I already died once.

I was not about to stay here and become a tragic female lead again.

I crossed my arms.

“And who exactly is stopping me?”

His gaze darkened slightly.

“You really want an answer to that?”

Okay.

That tension?

Illegal.

My survival instincts were screaming.

Unfortunately, another part of me was noticing his face again.

This was how female leads died.

Damian slowly stepped closer.

Then closer.

Until my back lightly hit the wall behind me.

Oh.

That was—

wow.

His voice lowered slightly.

“Why are you acting so different today, Natasha?”

There it was.

The question I didn’t want.

I forced out a laugh.

“What? People can’t have personality development now?”

“That’s not personality development.”

His eyes narrowed.

“It’s like you became a completely different person overnight.”

My heartbeat stumbled.

Did he notice already?

No.

Impossible.

Right?

I smiled nervously.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“You called me hot five minutes ago.”

“…that was a medical emergency.”

For the first time—

Damian looked genuinely amused.

And honestly?

That scared me more than the gun.

Because in the novel—

Damian Ashford never looked at Natasha Williams like this.

Not this early.

Not even close.

Which could only mean one thing.

The story—

was already changing.

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END OF EPISODE 3