*Smack.*

The woman standing in front of me pressed a hand to her stinging, slightly pink cheek, her pretty almond eyes swimming with unshed tears.

Yara’s small frame trembled faintly. Her fingers twisted tight into the hem of her vintage Victorian-style dress, and she bit hard into her lower lip, fighting to keep her tears from spilling over. She was already stunningly beautiful, but right now, teary and raw, she looked like a weeping angel—helpless, fragile, and breaking at the seams.

Watching her like this, a tiny twinge of regret tugged at my chest. But I forced it down, remembering why I was here. I hardened my heart, my voice dropping ice-cold as I snapped, "Yara, this slap is to wake you up. Stop deluding yourself that you can claw your way up the social ladder."

I glanced down at my own stinging palm, a flicker of doubt creeping in. Had I hit her too hard?

Had I hurt the sweet, lovable heroine of this story?

Twenty-four hours ago, I’d woken up trapped inside the pages of a trashy billionaire romance called *The Billionaire’s Reluctant Love*, transmigrated into the role of the scheming villainess—Jolie Salazar.

As the male lead’s fiancée, my character was sharp-tongued, bitter, and doomed to a tragic end—all while watching her groom run off with the soft-hearted heroine.

This moment right here? It matched the scene exactly: I’d just gotten back from my studies in the Alps, caught my fiancé in a vague, compromising situation with the heroine, and cornered her to confront her.

I frowned a little. The male lead was supposed to show up any second now… so where the hell was Malcolm Salazar?

Per the original plot, I’d just gotten home from abroad, walked in on my fiancé with the heroine Yara Long, and flew into a jealous rage. I’d taken advantage of Malcolm’s absence to slap Yara hard, marking my territory over my man. I’d torn into her, called her shameless, a homewrecker, a clingy gold-digger. I’d ordered her to get out of Malcolm’s life and stay far away from Salazar Corp.

Heartbroken, Yara had been getting ready to leave, but she’d waited to see Malcolm one last time before she went. When he walked in, she’d broken down crying into his arms, and I’d caught them red-handed. That’s how we got here.

"I saw you with my own two eyes, leaning all over my fiancé," I said, narrowing my eyes at Yara. "You still going to deny it?"

Yara just shook her head, sobbing hard, tears pouring down her face like rain.

Back in the real world, I was stuck in a dead-end, soul-sucking job. Even here, in this stupid novel, it’s just another gig. Nail the required plot beats, get a massive payout, and I get to go home and live the good life. The thought made a satisfied little smile tug at my lips.

But hey—acting’s my specialty.

Back in the real world, I’d worked my ass off chasing an acting career.

I might not have made it big, but I’ve got the skills.

I’ve got this. All I have to do is stick to the script, fake my dramatic villainess death, and retire to spend that fat check on whatever I want.

Yara’s sobs hiccuped, and then she cried even harder, calling out, "Malcolm, you have to help me."

I didn’t even need to turn around to know he was standing right behind me.

"What’s going on here?"

A low, icy voice rolled from behind my back.

Clad in a crisp white shirt and tailored black trousers, Malcolm Salazar stepped up beside me.

I darted a quick glance at him, and my brain short-circuited:

[Malcolm Salazar? How the hell is he this hot?]

His suit was custom-fitted to perfection, his sharp, elegant features framed by the most hypnotic eyes I’d ever seen.

I turned fully to face him, letting my gaze rake over him shamelessly:

[Great build. I’d bet he’s well over six feet, right?]

[Dude’s smoking hot on the outside, who knows what he’s like under all that, though.]

Unexpectedly, Malcolm blinked, and mouthed: ???

What the hell just happened?

Jolie hadn’t said a word out loud—why could he hear every single thought that just crossed her mind?

And when had he ever done nothing all day, anyway?

Malcolm was just about to open his mouth and ask what the hell was going on when the fragile Yara started pleading again. "Malcolm, please, do something."

Malcolm swallowed his questions for later. "What happened here just now?"

I tore my gaze off his body, and started idly picking at my manicured palm, not bothering to jump in and explain.

Across from me, Yara burst into fresh tears. "Malcolm, Jolie said I seduced you, she called me shameless… sob…"

"If you know he’s taken and you still throw yourself at him, what else would you call it?" I snapped, turning an icy glare on Yara. "Women like you would have been run out of town for this a hundred years ago."

Yara sobbed even harder. "I didn’t… I didn’t do it… sob…"

"Jolie!"

Malcolm instinctively started to reprimand me, when my inner voice cut in, loud and clear:

[Go on, scold me. Tell me I’m being too harsh, that I never should have hit her, that I’m being unreasonable. Say I’ve changed, that I’m not the sweet girl I used to be.]

[Then wrap delicate little Yara up in your arms and soothe her.]

[Then I can check this scene off the list. Haha, easy.]

Malcolm: …

That was literally exactly what he’d been planning to say and do.

Malcolm’s throat went tight, a weird, unshakable wave of shame washing over him.

When he didn’t respond, Yara’s lashes glistened with fresh tears as she whispered his name, pitiful as a hurt kitten: "Malcolm?"

Malcolm snapped out of it, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Jolie, it’s not what you think," he said, voice deep. "You’ve really misunderstood."

I played my part perfectly, heartbroken and furious: "I don’t believe you. I saw you holding her." I gaped at Malcolm, face crumpling into disbelief, my voice breaking with anguish. "You’re actually taking her side?"

[Come on, tell me it’s not what it looks like, explain it away. I’ll refuse to listen and storm off, and that’s it for today’s script.]

Malcolm: …

Malcolm threw another suspicious glance at Jolie, who looked utterly destroyed by heartbreak.

For a second, he couldn’t tell which of her feelings were real, and which were this weird voice in his head.

He was this close to convinced Jolie had a split personality.

After a long beat of deliberation, Malcolm said hesitantly, "Jolie, don’t make a scene."

"Malcolm, you…?" I pressed a hand to my chest, eyes going wide with fake hurt. "Malcolm, you really think I’m just causing trouble?"

[Called it. You two are fucking, and you’re just playing me. This whole acting gig is exhausting, by the way.]

Malcolm, deadpan: …

"Malcolm, all these years we’ve been together… they don’t mean anything next to some girl you just met…"

The last line was right on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. Instead, I pinched my thigh hard under my dress, and tears welled up in my eyes from the sharp pain. "Malcolm… I misjudged you."

"I…" Malcolm instinctively jumped to explain. "Jolie, it’s really not what you think."

I looked up at him, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Then tell me. What is it really, if not that?"

Malcolm just stood there, replaying what I’d just said. Honestly—why does this guy have to overthink everything so hard?

Across from him, Yara stopped sobbing for half a second, then burst into even more dramatic tears. "Malcolm, I’ll leave… I just want you to be happy."

With that, she bit her lip and hurried off, her tiny frame shrinking into the distance. Malcolm stayed rooted to the spot, every emotion under the sun warring across his face.

Watching this play out had me internally screaming. "Malcolm…"

[What are you waiting for, dummy? She’s already walking out! You’re just standing there like a deer caught in headlights! She’s heartbroken—go after her!]

Shaken out of his trance, Malcolm dragged his gaze from Yara’s retreating back to me, looking totally caught off guard.

My own fiancé, and I’m the one pushing him to run after another girl? Who would even believe that?

"Malcolm?" I tugged gently on his sleeve to yank him back to the present. "About Yara…"

[What are you still doing loitering here? She’ll be gone any second—can’t even chase a girl right?]

Malcolm flicked one last glance at Yara’s disappearing figure, then held me in a long, searching stare. "Jolie, wait here for me. I’ll come back and explain everything later."

I watched Malcolm leave with a perfectly rehearsed look of crushed heartbreak. The second he was out the door, I dropped the act entirely.

"Pfft, who’s gonna wait around for you? I’m clocking out of this mess."

With that, I sauntered out of Malcolm’s office building, leisurely pulling out my phone to call a cab.

Let me backtrack a little. At a company party a while back, Malcolm had been instantly hooked by how much Yara looked like me. Not long after, she got hired at Salazar Enterprises, and climbed the ranks fast to end up as Malcolm’s personal assistant.

There were dozens of more qualified applicants for that spot, and Yara wasn’t anything special on paper. How’d she beat all of them to get the job? Some questions are better left unanswered—it’s all just part of the script, after all.

After I moved back to the country, Malcolm dropped Yara—his previous little stand-in—like a hot potato and proposed to me in a hurry, all because she was just a copy of me.

Yara knows all the little moments she had with Malcolm only happened because she looked like me. But she can’t let go of her feelings, and she can’t stand to watch the man she loves be with someone else. So today she showed up at the office to resign.

Malcolm, torn between his feelings for me and not wanting to let Yara go, tried to talk her into staying. She poured her heart out to him, and ended up in his arms… and of course, that’s exactly when I walked in on the whole sappy scene.

I was supposed to lose my mind. While Malcolm was in a meeting, I’d corner Yara and slap her, put her in her place. But Malcolm walked in right as I did it.

Now that Yara’s run off, Malcolm’s supposed to chase after her. That’s how the story goes: he catches up to her, they go through all their little trials and tribulations, finally get rid of me, the evil obstacle, and ride off into the sunset together.

But that ending’s still a long ways off. I’m the villainous doppelgänger who just got back into town, and I haven’t even gotten started with my part yet. All I had to do was stick to the script until I found my way back to my real life.

When I got home, my dad was out. Only my mom was there… plus an unexpected guest—Malcolm’s mom.

"Jolie, you’re home already?"

Both women looked up when I walked in the room.

"Yep," I answered with a sweet, soft smile. "Hi Mom, hello Mrs. Salazar."

My mom and Mrs. Salazar have been friends for forever, and they’re the whole reason Malcolm and I ended up engaged in the first place.

"You went to see Malcolm today, why are you back so early?" My mom glanced at the clock, confused. "It’s still so early, why don’t you stay there for dinner?"

My cheery smile slipped for half a second. "He didn’t have time for me. He went after Yara instead."

Mrs. Salazar and my mom exchanged a confused look.

"What on earth happened?" Mrs. Salazar furrowed her brow, leaning in when she saw my near-tears expression. "Jolie, did Malcolm mistreat you?"

I whispered, "No, Auntie… it’s just… I’m not good enough for him."

Confusion clouded Mrs. Salazar’s face even more. "Nonsense, you’re the only daughter-in-law I’ve ever wanted. Don’t talk down about yourself like that."

I bit my lip, leaning hard into the role of the broken-hearted wronged fiancée. "Auntie, I went to Malcolm’s office today, and I saw him with Yara…"

I trailed off, looking completely devastated, and left the rest unsaid.

Mrs. Salazar’s face hardened into anger. "That boy’s engaged and still can’t act right, running after other women. Jolie, don’t you worry. I’ll sort this out for you."

With that, she dialed Malcolm’s number, her voice sharp as a knife when she spoke. "Malcolm, get over to the Dunn’s house right now."

I could almost hear him pushing back, from the way Mrs. Salazar’s frustration boiled over. "If you don’t get over here right now and apologize to Jolie, don’t you dare even think about stepping foot back in the Salazar house ever again!"

She slammed the call shut and turned to my mom, who looked just as displeased, and offered a placating smile. "Linette, Malcolm’s just being an idiot boy. Please don’t take this to heart."

My mom pulled off a strained smile. "It’s fine, Claire. It’s probably just a misunderstanding."

Mrs. Salazar huffed an awkward, frustrated laugh. "Malcolm’s behavior is absolutely unacceptable, especially after Jolie caught him red-handed."

I kept my heartbroken face perfectly in place, while inwardly patting myself on the back for a performance well done.

Another day, another level up to my acting game.

To be fair, I wasn’t doing anything wrong to Malcolm. Sure, he’s probably fated to end up with Yara, his one true leading lady, but right now? I’m the one engaged to him.

After all, we announced our engagement at a whole big public party. Malcolm’s little affair was so tacky—it’s like finding cash in the trash: yeah it’s free money, but who wants to dig it out of garbage?

Picking it up felt like handling something rotten, but throwing it away just felt wasteful.

And wouldn't you know it? Right then, I got a front-row seat to Yara and Malcolm tangled all over each other.

Naturally? I wasn't about to let that slide without making a whole thing of it.

Malcolm showed up fast; the soft rumble of a car pulling up outside drifted through the living room.

He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the space until they landed on me, and they lingered just a beat too long.

"Hello, Mrs. Dunn."

Malcolm greeted Olivia with a polite nod of his head.

Claire nodded back, just a small tilt. "Malcolm, have a seat." She gestured for the staff to bring in coffee and snacks.

Malcolm settled in beside his mom and asked, "What did you call me over for, Mom?"

"How dare you even ask that?" His mother's voice boiled over with exasperation, and she swatted his back hard. "Did you upset Jolie earlier today?"

Malcolm flicked a glance at my downcast face, searching for any hint of what I was feeling… and came up empty.

He wracked his brain, dead sure he hadn't done anything to piss me off. All he could do was shake his head. "I didn't…"

The words barely left his mouth before my thoughts roared back to what I'd been thinking back at the office:

[Didn't he do it? All men are liars. You can't believe a single word that comes out of their mouths—they're pros at deceiving people.]

[Does he really think he can deny he was holding Yara in his office five minutes ago? Or that she wasn't sobbing in his arms? How does he even have the balls to lie to my face when I'm standing right here as a witness?]

My face stayed perfectly calm, but inside my head, a hurricane of rage and hurt was spinning out of control.

Malcolm froze a little, his gaze pinning to my face.

Putting two and two together between the dark look on my face and how urgent his mom had been to get him over here, Malcolm rubbed his temples. His voice came out deep, strained as he tried to explain: "I told you, it's just a misunderstanding."

I kept my face blank as anything, but on the inside I was rolling my eyes so hard they almost got stuck:

[What kind of misunderstanding has an engaged man holding another woman who's already made it clear she wants him?]

At the same time, his mother frowned. "Malcolm, Jolie saw it with her own two eyes," she said firmly. "You need to tell Jolie exactly what's going on between you and that Yara girl."

Malcolm threw a heavy, somber glance my way where I sat next to Olivia.

I felt his eyes on me, and immediately put on my sweet, fragile little act.

[What are you staring at, you two-timing smooth talker? Trying to juggle both of us at the same time!]

Malcolm sighed. "Mom, nothing happened between me and Yara. She slipped and fell right into my arms by accident."

Again, I rolled my eyes internally:

[Really? Of every single place she could fall, it just had to be right into your arms? How convenient for you two.]

"Is that really all that happened?" Olivia asked, her tone thick with doubt.

Malcolm's eyes didn't leave my smooth, unblemished face. "Yes. That's all."

Claire nodded and turned to me for my take. "Jolie, does Malcolm's explanation satisfy you?"

I put on my best shy, hesitant act and glanced up through my lashes softy. "If it's just a misunderstanding, I trust Malcolm."

"I believe him. Yara fell into his arms by accident, and Malcolm was just being a gentleman catching her."

On the inside, I was cringing so hard at my own sickly sweet tone:

[Ugh. That was so nauseating I could throw up.]

Malcolm let out a deep sigh.

Claire was over the moon to have such an understanding future daughter-in-law. She patted my hand warmly and grinned.

"What do you think, Olivia?" Claire Salazar asked—even though I'd already forgiven Malcolm, she still wanted reassurance from her friend.

Olivia Dunn didn't think much of it. Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, it was no big deal.

"Malcolm, Jolie is such a wonderful girl. I like her more than I can say," Olivia said. "She's the only one I want as a daughter-in-law for this family. No one else will ever do!"

"You need to treat her right, you hear me? Can you promise me that?"

With a sigh, Malcolm nodded, giving in to his mother's demand.

With the silly little misunderstanding sorted out so easily, Claire was glowing. She waved a hand, giddy as she instructed the staff to prepare a dinner with spiced honey cake and pulled pork.

She warmly insisted Olivia and I stay for dinner.

"That's okay, Mrs. Salazar," I hurried to decline. "Earlier, Malcolm and I never got around to eating lunch." I lifted my gaze to Malcolm, letting my expression go soft and affectionate, a sharp contrast to his serious face. "I'd rather go out to eat with him instead."

Malcolm frowned, holding my gaze.

I smiled sweetly, my eyes crinkling like little crescent moons. "Isn't that right, Malcolm?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded silently.

"Oh, I get it," Claire chuckled. "I won't keep you two then. Olivia and I will just have dinner here—we won't intrude on your date night."

After we said our goodbyes, I was already in Malcolm's car, staring out the passenger window.

"Where do you want to eat?" Malcolm asked, turning the key in the ignition.

I thought it over for a second, then gave him an address.

It wasn't far from the Salazar place, right downtown, but with rush hour traffic, we couldn't go fast.

Malcolm drove one-handed, sneaking a quick look at me out of the corner of his eye.

As night fell, the city lights started flicking on one by one.

Neon signs along the street glowed and flickered, painting shifting shadows across my face that made me look almost dreamlike.

The car rolled steady, and a soft breeze blew in through the open window, lifting a strand of hair off my cheek and drifting it over my eyes for a second.

Malcolm snapped his attention back to the road and took a deep drag off the cigarette between his fingers.

He'd grown up with me, and I'd always been the gold standard of beauty to him—his perfect dream girl.

If only I hadn't spent those years living in Europe… and Yara, who looked so damn much like me…

Malcolm's brow furrowed as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

I felt what he was doing, frowned, and rolled my window all the way down.

I shifted a little, leaning half out to get a breath of air that wasn't thick with cigarette smoke.

[Seriously? Why do you have to smoke in a tiny closed car? Can't he ever think about anyone but himself?]

Malcolm froze mid-inhale, stuck between exhaling the smoke he'd already pulled in and holding it in his lungs.

[He's really over here smoking when his poor little girlfriend just got kicked out by her landlord and has nowhere to go. Shouldn't he be rushing over to help her right now?]

Malcolm's brain spun for a second, then he caught on who my "beloved" was talking about.

"Jolie…"

Right as he was about to ask me what I meant, a jolt of hot excitement shot through my chest:

[There she is! Finally found you! You're so hard to track down, Yara!]

My eyes lit up, locking dead on the forlorn figure outside the window.

Malcolm followed my gaze, and there on the sidewalk was Yara's thin, heartbroken silhouette.

She was dragging a suitcase, hefting a huge duffel bag, and wandering aimlessly down the street.

I reined in my excitement and snuck a quick glance at the driver's seat, racking my brain for how to nudge Malcolm into noticing her on his own.

[Stop the damn car and get her in already! What are you even waiting for?]

Before I could cook up a plan, the car slammed to a stop at the curb. Malcolm's gaze was already locked on Yara.