Chapter 3

Mia’s POV

“The Old Master is in the dining room. He asks for everyone’s presence.” A man bowed low and spoke.

I clicked my tongue, glancing around the grand corridor. “My room?” I asked.

They all gave me a weird look.

Fuck.

I should know my way around, right? I mean... am I really transmigrated? And Old Master? That’s the ruthless grandfather, no...?

“My lady.” A teenage girl bowed before me. My eyes dropped to her bright orange hair, my brain snapping back to the novel. Eliana had a personal maid with orange hair.

“Lead me to my room,” I said, clearing my throat. She turned immediately, and I followed behind her.

“You’re in no way ignoring Father’s call, are you? What came over you?” Gianna’s sharp voice cut through the air.

I only faced the man who had delivered the message. “I should go looking like this?” I raised a brow. He only sighed, dropping his head.

Rolling my eyes, I followed the girl into a room that was stupidly massive, and surprisingly traditional. Yeah... Life Ain’t Roses wasn’t a modern story.

Just how fucked up is all this going to get? Eliana was fucking murdered, and now I’m stuck in her skin?

What the hell?

And that isn’t even the worst part. Xavier has to be the man who planned with people to kill me? Does any of this make sense? 

And Brandon? The Grandfather's adopted son Eliana hated with every fiber of her being? Crazy Eliana and I both hated that guy. It’s insane how we both shared the exact same stupid pride.

“My lady, is there a problem?” A low, soft voice broke through my thoughts. I blinked, realizing the orange-haired girl was still standing in the middle of the room.

“Your name?” I asked. She raised her head, confusion written all over her face.

“Never mind. I remember. Doris, right?” I muttered, clearing my throat as I walked toward a heavy door I assumed was the washroom.

“Yes my lady. I’ll prepare your garments on the bed,” she offered behind me. I didn't bother replying as I stepped inside.

The moment the heavy door shut, my knees buckled, and I slumped to the cold floor, resting my head against the wood. 

My hands trembled against my knees. This shit isn’t funny. It fucking isn’t.

Eliana Salvador died.

The bitch fucking died!

And now I’m in her shoes? Brandon is the Grandfather's adopted son, Four? Xavier is that fucker of a husband, Angelo? 

Just what kind of twisted game is the universe playing with me?

And Brandon...?

I really hope he’s okay.

He was covered in blood and... fuck, why do I even care if he’s okay? He shouldn’t have tried to save me. No logic proves his reason. 

I pushed myself up to strip off the heavy clothes and did a quick bath.

When I finished, I wrapped a towel tightly around my body and walked out, only to freeze. A shadow was standing by the bed. 

“The fuck?” I hissed out. The figure turned around. A female blonde. Oh, the bitch of a best friend.

“Here to play cat and mouse?” I sneered, walking past her to grab the clothes Doris had left spread on the mattress.

“What’s going on with you, Ana? You’re being so harsh and what cat and mouse?” she murmured, her voice dropping as her lips pulled into a delicate pout.

“Out of my room. I want to dress,” I deadpanned. I swear, if she didn't leave right now, I might actually use my taekwondo skills on her.

Her eyes widened slightly. A flick of genuine confusion crossed her face before settling into something flat and dead. A slow, subtle smirk curled on my lips.

Just play the bitch you are.

I dropped the dress, walked right up to her, and pulled her into a tight hug, forcing my body against hers even as my back throbbed with a dull, aching pain.

I let out a long sigh, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry for being rude. Everything just feels overwhelming,” I murmured, keeping my voice as small and broken as possible.

If I want to get back to my world, I have to survive this mess first. I ain't dying in a fucking novel! No way in hell!

“It’s fine, Ana. You know I’m here with you,” she cooed, patting my hair with gentle, practiced strokes. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my mind onto the absolute worst memories I had. I needed tears, and I needed them now.

The memory of finding Brandon in his room flashed through my mind, how pale he looked, how utterly broken he was. My chest tightened, and a silent sob broke through my throat.

That did the work.

“It’s fine,” Lily whispered, wiping the dampness from my cheek and offering a sweet, flawless smile. I recognized the fake warmth in her eyes immediately.

How the fuck didn't Eliana see through this woman? Or the author has a grudge against someone and used the person as Eliana?

“Get dressed and come out. You don’t want to make your grandfather mad again,” she remarked, giving me one last smile before walking out.

Sighing, I slipped into the heavy garment and faced the mirror. My face looked terrible in the glass, hollowed out, broken, and bittered.

I have things to change. I know every single detail of Life Ain’t Roses, and I’m not about to fall into the same traps.

They want the family property? They can kiss it all goodbye, because they aren’t getting a single penny.

And my death? I sure as hell won't be dying by their hands, not in this story.

I brushed through my hair, adjusted the neckline of my dress, and stepped into the hallway, a sharp pain lingering across my entire body. Just what had this body been through before I woke up in it?

Without even thinking, my feet led me straight toward the dining hall. Maybe I really had read this book in too much detail.

At the entrance, I stopped. A broad figure sat at the head of the long table, his heavy back facing me. The air in the room was suffocatingly tense, everyone chewing in dead silence.

My gaze slid to my so-called husband. Angelo was eating calmly, the chair beside him empty. I walked over, pulled the chair out, and sat down.

“A fine way to greet your grandfather,” a voice spoke. It was calm, yet it carried an undeniable weight that made the air feel heavier.

I didn't say a word. I just watched as a servant dished out my food. “Good day, Grandfather. I was getting myself cleaned up so I came late,” I said quietly, picking up my fork and digging in.

Seeing the food in front of me made my stomach gnaw with sudden hunger, so I kept eating, completely ignoring the sharp looks being passed around the table.

Suddenly, a warm hand slid onto my thigh beneath the tablecloth. I froze, my utensils dropping an inch before I snapped my head toward him.

Angelo gave me a soft, fake smile.

I swear, Xavier's face had never irritated me as much as it did right now. It was infuriating that he had to be Angelo in this world.

“Get your hands off my granddaughter, and take those intimate touches to your bedroom, not my dining table,” the old man’s calm voice cut through the air again.

I faced Grandfather to see his head raised, eyes locked on Angelo’s, his jaw locked. I scanned his features and he looked like he had never smiled. 

His face was little in no way harmless. He looked terrifying. No wonder he was feared. I also feel this somewhat fear for him even after knowing he can’t harm me. 

“We’re a married couple, Grandfather. But point taken,” Angelo replied and Grandfather didn’t say a word, he just dropped his head back to his food. 

I cleared my throat, keeping quiet as I picked up my fork again. But suddenly, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I glanced up, and my eyes locked onto a pair of intense, emerald-green eyes staring straight into my soul. The breath caught in my chest, making my throat go completely dry.

A hard cough tore out of my throat. I tore my gaze away, grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one gulp while Angelo rubbed circles into my back.

As my breathing eased, I swallowed hard and looked back across the table. He was still watching me, his eyes cold and unblinking. I noticed Angelo’s eyes flicker over toward him, then slide back to me, his brow raised.

Oh, right... I hated him.

Eliana hated Four. And I hated Brandon.

And somehow, since I’m Eliana now, I’m supposed to hate Four, who also happens to be Brandon, right? Right!

“Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine ways to kill. Which one are you using on me?” I asked, raising a brow as I set my cutlery down with a faint clink.

Around the table, everyone stopped eating, their eyes darting between us. Well, except the oldest man, who kept eating.

“Desperate for death? Then wait patiently. Death is nearby,” Four said, his eyes briefly flickering toward the middle aged man across him before dropping back to his plate, and resumed eating. 

Shade taken and understood. 

“Manners, young folks,” the black wolf himself, Arthur, finally spoke.

A faint smirk curled on my lips.

Four knew all along.

It made sense now. 

In the original novel, he was the one who eventually avenged Eliana’s death, dying himself in the process.

If he knows what’s coming...

Then we’re going to get along just fine.

I picked up my cutlery again, my eyes sliding back to Four. He’s going to make a great associate.

My smirk widened. 

Let’s change some plots, shall we?