I Traveled from Reality into a CEO Novel!

I had been sucked into a novel, becoming a drop-dead gorgeous extra.

In the story, I lived right across from Eleanor Green, the female lead.

Every time she made a run for it, Clayton Blackwood, the male lead, accompanied by his bodyguards, came knocking down my door.

Within just two months, my poor door had been busted open like six or seven times.

And then it happened again.

"Damn it, couldn't you two just torment each other without dragging the neighbors into it?"

1

BANG BANG BANG!

The all-too-familiar sound of door-banging was deafening.

No need to guess; Eleanor had bolted again.

Following the script, Clayton suspected she was hiding at my place. After a few bangs, he lost his cool and ordered his goons to smash the door.

They turned my place upside down, and once they confirmed she wasn't there, they angrily threw a check at me for a new door.

This childish game played out three or four times a month; I was practically on a first-name basis with the local locksmith.

The noise outside kept getting louder, and just as I saw Clayton about to signal another door smash, I furrowed my brows and flung the door open myself.

True to form, he had that brooding, heartbreaker look plastered all over his face.

He glared down at me, hands in pockets, towering and ominous, "Hand her over."

Like hell I will!

Keeping up appearances, I tiptoed and met his gaze, saying each word slowly, "Wise men don't fall in love, let's make America beautiful again, get it?"

The so-called dominant CEO couldn't seem to handle his own love-sick brain.

With all this 'chase her, catch her, she can't escape' effort, imagine how much wealth he could have created, how many aircraft carriers he could have built for the nation, or how many meals he could have provided for kids in the mountains?

Think bigger, will ya!

Having not seen this coming, he was clearly stunned by my rant.

Just as I thought, a small fry in a big pond—nowadays, any schmuck thinks he can be a top dog, thumbs down!

I mentally scoffed at him and didn't hide my disdain, speaking up again, "Clayton Blackwood, Eleanor wasn't here, and even if she were, you had no right to burst in here—that's trespassing, and there are legal consequences for that."

Not only was he narrow-minded, but also clueless about the law. No matter how handsome, he was a total turn-off.

I was done with the back-and-forth and ready to shut the door, but before I could, Clayton stopped it with his hand.

He kept that condescending look, "You're spouting this weird stuff just to get my attention, aren't you?"

I was rendered speechless.

People used to bind feet, now it seemed like he had his brain all tied up.

I suppressed the urge to throw up last night's dinner and coldly told Clayton, "You're reading way too much into it. Even if you were the last love-sick CEO on earth, I wouldn't take you even if for free."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

Clayton, having been the golden boy all his life, oozed arrogance. He waved his bodyguards away and strode into my apartment with his long legs swaggering.

With our physical mismatch, I couldn't stop him, and I braced myself, "What are you doing?"

Considering Clayton was the typical old-school romantic lead—deep in abusive love with the female lead, often drawing blood or taking organs for his angel.

It was terrifying to think he might fancy some part of me too!

The living room was a mess, with a dozen packing bags strewn around. Clayton's gaze swept over them, and then suddenly, he looked up, "Are you moving out?"