30 days to Doomsday, I'm the villianess with three husbands?

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

My voice echoed through the empty office as I almost picked up my laptop and flung it across the place, because this fictional character had somehow managed to make me both angry and incredibly curious.

I had discovered the novel three weeks ago, and it had become my current obsession.

It was about a villainess named Vespera Veyne — same first name as mine — a chubby werewolf heiress who had inherited three husbands she treated like personal servants. She was spoiled, arrogant, and cruel, and her father had died leaving behind a fortune worth billions.

Unfortunately, Vespera never discovered the full extent of her inheritance. Her two stepsisters manipulated her, concealed the truth, and siphoned away her father's wealth before she even realised what had happened.

Then the apocalypse arrived — a Wolf-Zombie Apocalypse that infected their kind and turned them into mindless, flesh-hungry monsters. Their world collapsed after that.

And poor, foolish Vespera? She was poisoned by her own stepsisters and thrown into a horde of zombies while her three husbands watched her die without lifting a finger to help her.

And honestly, I couldn't even blame them. The original Vespera had made their lives miserable.

She had humiliated them, mistreated them, and constantly reminded them that they were lower-ranked wolves who should be grateful she had married them.

Her husbands were supposedly an E-rank wolf and two D-rank wolves, while Vespera herself was a B-rank. She had always used that difference to justify practically everything she did.

So when her stepsisters poisoned her and dragged her into a horde of zombies during the apocalypse, her husbands decided the world was better off without her.

And that marked the end of the villainess.

Or at least, that's as far as I knew because that was where I was currently at in the book, and it still had at least a hundred pages to go.

I glanced at the time on my laptop.

11:47 P.M.

My fingers itched to pick up my phone and read one more chapter. Just one more. I deserved it.

I opened the reading app, determined to squeeze in a little more reading before getting back to my annoying reality, but the last paragraph had me pausing.

'Vespera smiled at her husband as the zombies tore her into pieces, unaware that the men standing before her were hiding a secret that could destroy everything she thought she knew about the apocalypse.'

"Oh, come on!" I cried, leaning closer to the screen. "What secret? What did they do? Are they B-rank wolves too? Are they working with the government?"

I stared at the screen for a few more seconds, desperately wishing I could skip ahead and find out what happened. But then I remembered something.

I had a job.

A very annoying job that paid my bills and refused to let me enjoy my life.

"Fuck my life." I murmured as I closed the app and tried to focus on the files in front of me.

Unfortunately, my peace lasted all of five minutes before a familiar voice interrupted me.

"What's the problem, Vesper?"

I slowly lifted my head to look at my boss, Mr Calloway, who had his hands tucked into his pockets and looked absolutely unbothered.

"The problem?" I repeated, pointing at the files. "The problem is that you told me yesterday that if I finished the Henderson report, I could have today off."

"And you did finish it. Good work, by the way."

I blinked.

"Which is why I know you'll do an excellent job handling these new accounts."

I stared at this annoying man for a few seconds, then looked at the office clock again. It was my fifth night working past midnight this week.

I had been looking forward to Friday for so long that I had already planned what I would do with my glorious, uninterrupted day of freedom.

Sleep, eat, sleep again, and maybe take a shower somewhere in between. But most importantly, finish this novel that was driving me insane. 

"Mr Calloway," I said, "I have been working overtime all week."

"And we appreciate that."

"I haven't had a proper night's sleep in four days."

"Which is why I don't want you coming in tomorrow morning. Take the morning off."

I stared at him again. Take the morning off?! Was he insane?

"Just send me the completed reports by eight," he said, gesturing toward the files. Then he turned around and walked away.

I watched his retreating back, and I couldn't say a word. My mouth opened, closed, and opened again.

Nothing came out, and thank goodness nothing did because I would have screamed that I was going to pour my coffee over his expensive shoes!

And so, I forced on a lovely, professional smile that would have made my mother proud, "Of course, sir."

He disappeared around the corner, and my smile vanished. Then I sighed, dragged the files closer, and opened the first one.

This was my life.

My name was Vespera Collins. I had a degree, a decent salary, a tiny apartment I barely had time to enjoy, and I was constantly regretting why I had been in such a rush to leave my parents' house and 'become independent' six years ago.

I wasn't even particularly ambitious. I didn't dream of becoming a company director or owning a mansion with a swimming pool. I simply wanted a comfortable life, a job that ended when it was supposed to, and enough money to buy groceries without checking my bank balance three times.

Anything involving romance and socialising was dead in my life, and by the way my eyes were beginning to burn, I was next.

I rubbed my face with both hands, then reached for my coffee. It was bitter, but I had to endure it since it was the expensive fuel that kept my brain functioning long enough to finish tasks I should never have been assigned in the first place.

My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the screen to see that I'd received a message from my best friend, Mira.

Mira: Are you still at work?

I typed with one hand: No. I've ascended to the afterlife. The Wi-Fi is excellent here.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Mira: Vespera, I'm serious. Quit that job before I start planning your funeral.

Me: I want a grand funeral. Can you afford that?

Mira: I'll sell your laptop.

I gasped. The audacity!!

That was my only source of entertainment!

I sent her a heart emoji and put my phone aside, then turned back to the files.

For the next few hours, I typed until my fingers ached. By four in the morning, I had rubbed my eyes too many times, drunk too much coffee, and occasionally caught myself staring blankly at the screen because the words had stopped making sense.

By five a.m., I was stumbling out of the office like someone who has spent the entire night drinking. God, I was fucking exhausted. 

And I must have slipped by the door because one second I was standing straight, the next I felt a sharp pain run all the way through my head. It made my eyes roll. 

It also made me welcome darkness. 

Fuck... don't tell me I'm dead. 

I opened my eyes to a ridiculously comfortable bed, which I was definitely about to sleep more on, then I realised...the bed at my apartment wasn't this comfortable and definitely didn't smell like roses!

My apartment smelled like detergent, old books, and the noodles I'd forgotten in my kitchen sink.

Before I could move, a sharp, deafening hum like a roaring engine pierced my ears, and the scent of the room hit me all at once. It wasn't just roses this time but the faint, metallic tang of polish from three doors down and the musk of someone standing out in the hallway. 

I winced, clutching my head as the sensory overload made my stomach churn. What was wrong with my ears and nose?

I snapped my eyes open to see a crystal chandelier glittering above me, then I slowly turned my head.

Gold curtains. Cream walls. A fireplace. A velvet sofa. An enormous wardrobe that looked more expensive than my entire apartment.

Panic finally hit me properly, "WHAT THE HELL?" I screamed as I flew off the bed, then I paused again. 

Why does my voice sound different?! 

I placed a hand on my throat and looked down at myself immediately. 

Black silk nightgown. Strange hands. Manicured nails.

And a stomach that definitely hadn't been there the last time I'd checked.

"What the..."

I hurried toward the enormous mirror beside the wardrobe, and stopped dead when a stranger stared back at me. 

She had long, dark hair, pale skin, full cheeks, and striking grey eyes. Her figure was soft and curvy, and her face was so beautiful that I almost forgot to breathe.

I raised my hand, and she raised hers.

I touched my cheek, and she did the same.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" I exclaimed, grabbing my face as I started to panic even more. 

Then I noticed the large scar beneath her left ear that extended down to her neck, and my breath caught again. 

I knew that scar!!

I'd read about it in the novel.

"No." I stumbled backwards, "No. Absolutely not."

I looked at the mirror again, dumbfounded this time.

The dark hair.

The grey eyes.

The face of the woman whose terrible decisions had kept me entertained during my lunch breaks.

Vespera Veyne.

The B-rank werewolf villainess.

I was looking at the villainess, which means...I was inside the novel, which also explained why I could feel things I shouldn't.