Five Men for the Doomed Villainess

Adriana

My skull throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to my temples. I groaned, dragging a hand across my face to block out the piercing morning light, and felt something cold scratch against my cheek.

I pulled my hand back and stared. A massive, emerald-cut diamond ring caught the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I sat up, my heart suddenly racing, the heavy silk sheets pooling around my waist. This was not my apartment. My apartment was cramped and always smelled like cheap coffee, damp brick, and old paper. My apartment had caught fire last night. I remembered the thick, toxic smoke filling my lungs. I remembered the blistering heat peeling the paint off my walls. I remembered collapsing on the floor, my last conscious thought consumed by how my younger sister was going to pay her college tuition without my income.

So why was I sitting in a sprawling luxury penthouse, breathing clean, air-conditioned air, and wearing a diamond that cost more than my entire life insurance policy?

I pushed myself out of the massive bed. My legs felt unsteady, trembling slightly as I walked toward the full-length mirror leaning against the far wall of the bedroom.

The woman staring back at me had long, dark-brown hair, warm brown eyes, and naturally tanned skin. She was beautiful, elegant, and entirely unfamiliar.

Then, the memories hit me. Names, faces, board meetings, trust funds, and private bank account routing numbers layered over my own memories until my knees buckled. I gasped, gripping the edge of a sleek glass console table to keep from hitting the floor.

Adriana Elise Mercado. Twenty-five years old. Billionaire heiress. Acting chairwoman of Mercado Holdings.

I knew that name. I had read it in a web novel during my rare fifteen-minute lunch breaks at the financial firm. Adriana was the notorious villainess of an apocalypse survival story called The Last Dawn. She was the wealthy, jealous, and supposedly insane fiancée of Vincent Carlo Alvarado, the story's antagonist disguised as a tragic hero.

According to the novel, in exactly three months, Vincent would poison her at their lavish engagement celebration. He would fake her suicide, steal her inheritance, and use her billions to buy emergency supplies. He would secure a fortified mountain bunker with his true love, Bianca Serrano. While the rest of the world burned and humanity collapsed under a mysterious viral outbreak, Vincent and Bianca would be safe, funded entirely by my blood. In the book, everyone hated Adriana. They believed she was a manipulative monster who deserved to die.

But inheriting her memories painted a very different picture.

The original Adriana wasn't crazy. She had simply discovered Vincent's affair and noticed his highly suspicious supply hoarding, but nobody believed her. Her own father and stepmother had helped Vincent gaslight her to keep the family businesses merged, feeding her sedatives and calling her paranoid.

I took a deep, steadying breath. The panic creeping up my throat faded, pushed aside by the cold, sharp focus that had made me a top-tier financial risk analyst in my previous life. I had spent years fighting for every cent I earned. I fought to survive poverty, and I fought to give my sister a future.

I was not going to die again. And I was certainly not going to let a cheating coward use my money to play the hero of the apocalypse.

I scanned the room and found a sleek silver laptop sitting on a desk near the window. I opened it. The original Adriana’s residual muscle memory guided my fingers across the keyboard. Complex passwords flowed naturally from my mind to the screen. I bypassed the standard security protocols, logged directly into the master portal for Mercado Holdings, and accessed my personal accounts.

The numbers on the screen were staggering. There were enough zeros to make anyone pause, but I didn't have time to admire my new net worth. I navigated straight to the joint accounts she shared with Vincent.

Just as I suspected. Vincent had already initiated a pending wire transfer of two million dollars to an offshore holding company registered under Bianca’s name. He was draining my liquidity to build their survival fund, piece by piece, right under my nose.

Not today.

I clicked Cancel.

Then, I went to work. My fingers flew across the keys with ruthless precision. I froze the three joint platinum credit cards Vincent used to fund his lavish lifestyle and his secret gifts for Bianca. I revoked his signature authorization on all Mercado accounts. I transferred all shared liquid assets back into a single-signer trust strictly under my name.

I opened my email and drafted a message to Godwin Camron Andrews, the senior legal counsel for my personal estate.

Godwin,

Immediately initiate eviction protocols for the Alvarado family from all Mercado estate properties. Draft the paperwork to terminate all financial credit facilities extended to Alvarado Logistics by our subsidiary branches. I want this done quietly and finalized before the engagement party tonight.

Adriana.

I hit send. I closed the laptop and walked into the massive walk-in closet. The original Adriana favored soft, elegant dresses in pastel colors—clothes that made her look like the perfect, compliant future wife. I pushed those aside, the hangers scraping loudly against the metal rack. I needed armor.

I found a sharp white tailored blazer and matching trousers, pairing them with a simple black silk shirt. I pulled my dark hair back into a tight, low ponytail and slipped on a pair of black stiletto heels. I looked at the diamond ring still sitting on my finger. I considered taking it off and throwing it out the window, but decided against it. I needed to keep up appearances just a little longer. Let Vincent think he still had me trapped.

I left the penthouse and took the private elevator down to the ground floor.

The doors slid open to reveal the sprawling, opulent lobby of the Bellhaven Grand Hotel. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. Wealthy elites mingled near the lounge area, sipping expensive espresso and discussing trivial gossip, completely oblivious to the fact that their money would be entirely worthless in ninety days.

I scanned the room. My eyes bypassed the socialites and business executives until they landed on a man standing near the valet station.

Gabriel Thomas Reyes.

He stood at six-foot-three, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fit perfectly across his broad shoulders. He had thick black hair, sharp features, and pitch-black eyes that observed the room with chilling efficiency. Even standing perfectly still, he commanded the space around him. People naturally gave him a wide berth, sensing the danger radiating off him.

In the novel, Gabriel became the most powerful financial and logistical leader of the surviving territories. He was ruthless, highly intelligent, and notoriously patient. He built a fortress out of resources while other men built them out of guns. Right now, he was simply the CEO of Reyes Strategic Holdings, a massive crisis management firm, and he held a significant amount of Vincent’s debt.

I walked straight toward him. The sharp click of my heels on the marble floor caught his attention. His two security guards shifted, stepping slightly forward to block my path, but Gabriel raised a single hand. They stopped instantly, stepping back into the shadows.

Gabriel watched me approach. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his eyes tracked my every movement, analyzing me from the sharp cut of my blazer to the confident, unyielding set of my shoulders.

"Mr. Reyes," I said, stopping a few feet away.

"Miss Mercado," Gabriel replied. His voice was smooth, deep, and guarded. "Congratulations on your upcoming engagement. Vincent is a fortunate man."

I didn't smile. I held his gaze evenly, refusing to be intimidated by his reputation. "I wouldn't celebrate just yet, Mr. Reyes. I'm calling the wedding off."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. For a man who built an empire on controlling information, surprises were rare. "Is that so? The society papers seem to think the invitations are already being printed."

"The papers only know what they are paid to print," I said calmly. "I'm telling you this because I am aware that Vincent owes Reyes Strategic Holdings a significant amount of money. Nine million, to be exact."

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't confirm or deny the number, keeping his cards close to his chest. "My firm's dealings with Alvarado Logistics are confidential, Miss Mercado."

"Of course they are," I agreed. "But if I were you, I would look very closely at Alvarado Logistics today. Specifically, the three shell companies he recently registered in the Cayman Islands. He is moving your borrowed capital into those accounts. He plans to declare bankruptcy next month and restructure his debt to avoid paying you back."

Silence stretched between us. The lobby music played softly in the background, but the air between Gabriel and me crackled with sudden, sharp tension.

Gabriel studied my face, searching for a lie, a tell, or a hidden motive. He found nothing.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his tone dropping an octave. "You are his fiancée. Exposing his fraud ruins his family. It brings a scandal to your own."

"Because I am cutting him off," I stated firmly. "By this afternoon, Vincent won't have access to a single dime of my money. He is going to panic, and he is going to try to accelerate his fraud against your firm to cover his losses. I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

Gabriel tilted his head, his dark eyes assessing me with renewed interest. "You are remarkably calm for a woman who just discovered her fiancé is a fraud."

"Crying doesn't recoup lost capital, Mr. Reyes. I prefer results."

A faint, genuine smirk touched the corner of Gabriel's mouth. It changed his entire face, making him look less like a machine and more like a predator who had just found an interesting hunt. It was a dangerous smile, and I felt a sudden, unexpected flutter in my chest.

"You have my attention, Adriana," Gabriel said, using my first name for the first time. The sound of it in his deep voice sent a strange shiver down my spine. "If your information is accurate, Vincent will have a very difficult week ahead of him."

"Make sure of it," I replied, holding my ground. "I want him ruined before the week is out."

I turned to walk away, ready to head to the waiting town car outside, but Gabriel stepped forward, closing the distance between us. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, matte black business card. He held it out to me.

I looked at the card, then back up at his dark eyes.

"If you ever decide to destroy another empire, Miss Mercado," Gabriel said softly, the smirk

lingering on his lips, "I’d appreciate being invited.”