Chapter One

Rowena’s POV

“Are you actually kidding me right now?” I yelled at my phone screen, my thumb aggressively swiping down the page. “Why would you go to his house? He clearly hates you!”

It was exactly 3:14 AM. My eyes burned, and my morning alarm for college was set to go off in barely three hours, but I physically couldn't put the phone down. I stared at the final updated chapter of "The Billionaire's Proxy," and my blood boiled with every word I read.

“You literally have a high-paying job, Rowena!” I shouted at the fictional girl who ironically shared my first name. “Why are you throwing it all away for a guy who treats you like trash? Have some self-respect!”

In the novel, Rowena was the second female lead. She was a gorgeous exotic dancer working at an elite underground club right alongside the main female lead, Cressida. But instead of collecting her massive tips and minding her own business, the book's Rowena was blinded by jealousy. She spent every waking moment trying to sabotage Cressida just to steal the male lead, Arlo Kensington.

I read the dialogue on the screen where Arlo finally caught her in her latest trap.

“You thought you could ruin her and I wouldn't find out?” Arlo asked, his voice dripping with venom.

“Yes, tell her, Arlo!” I cheered to my empty bedroom. “Put her in her place!”

“You are nothing but a cheap distraction, Rowena. I will make sure you never step foot in this city again.”

“See? This is exactly what you get!” I grumbled, reading the part where he exposed her schemes to the entire internet.

Arlo didn't just fire her. He publicly humiliated her, got her blacklisted from every club in the state, and orchestrated her arrest. The author detailed how the public shame broke her, leading to her tragic, premature death in a dirty jail cell.

I dropped my phone onto my pillow and groaned out loud, aggressively rubbing my tired eyes.

“How can one character be so stupid?” I complained to the dark room. “If I were in her shoes, I'd just stay in the shadows. I'd push the main couple together, collect my paycheck, and get rich. Why die over a man who doesn't even like you?”

Exhausted and thoroughly annoyed with the author's plot choices, I finally closed my eyes and pulled my blanket up to my chin. I expected to wake up to my loud phone alarm ringing for my morning class.

Instead, a blinding headache split my skull in two.

“Ouch,” I hissed, grabbing my temples.

I gasped for air, but my lungs didn't fill with the familiar scent of my cheap laundry detergent. I choked on the overwhelming stench of strong vanilla perfume, stale cigarettes, and sweat. A loud, thumping bass vibrated through the floorboards, traveling directly up my bare legs.

“What on earth is that noise?” I muttered, snapping my eyes open.

I froze.

I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't even in my apartment.

I sat frozen in a hard plastic chair in front of a sparkling silver vanity mirror. Bright, harsh bulbs rimmed the glass, blinding me for a second. I looked down at my body. I wore a scandalous, deep crimson silk two-piece outfit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

My hands flew to my face in pure panic.

“This isn't my face,” I whispered, my voice shaking so badly I barely recognized it.

“Am I dreaming?” I asked my reflection.

I reached down and pinched the skin on my bare arm as hard as I could. A sharp, hot sting of pain shot through my nerves. I flinched, pulling my hand back quickly.

I didn't wake up.

“Not a dream,” I breathed out, my chest heaving. “This isn't a dream.”

I leaned closer to the mirror, my heart hammering in my throat. I stared at the loose, dramatic dark waves falling over my shoulders. I stared at the sharp, vivid green eyes staring back at me. I knew this face. It perfectly matched the official character art on the reading app I was just glaring at three minutes ago.

“How is this possible?” I asked the mirror, my hands gripping the edge of the vanity until my knuckles turned white. “Did I pass out? Did I hit my head on my headboard?”

I frantically looked around the cramped, messy space. Silk outfits hung haphazardly over clothing racks. Used makeup littered the counters. The thumping bass from the floor kept getting louder, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart.

“Okay, calm down,” I told myself out loud, trying to control my breathing. “You just fell asleep reading. Your brain is playing a very realistic trick on you. You'll wake up soon. You just need to wake up.”

Before I could even process the sheer impossibility of what was happening, the dressing room door banged open with a loud crash.

I jumped, spinning around in my chair.

A girl rushed into the room. She had a painfully sweet, innocent face, huge doe eyes, and long, perfectly straight blonde hair. She wore a pure white silk dress that heavily contrasted with my scandalous crimson outfit.

She didn't even knock. She marched right up to me and grabbed my bare arm, her grip surprisingly tight and urgent.

“Rowena, stop staring at yourself!” she snapped, though her voice maintained a high, breathy pitch. “Are you going crazy? Hurry up!”

I stared at her, my mouth falling open. “Who... what did you just call me?”

“Rowena, stop playing around!” she scolded, yanking my arm to pull me out of the chair. “Mr. Kensington's VIP table just arrived, and the manager says we are both up right now.”

“Mr. Kensington?” I echoed, the name hitting me like a bucket of ice water.

“Yes, Arlo Kensington!” she huffed, rolling her doe eyes at me. “The biggest spender in the city. If we keep him waiting, the manager will fire us both. Now move!”

Rowena. Arlo Kensington.

I looked at the girl's sweet, innocent face. “Cressida?” I whispered.

“Yes, obviously!” Cressida sighed, dragging me toward the open door. “What is wrong with you tonight? Let's go!”

My jaw dropped as she pulled me out into a dark, neon-lit hallway. I wasn't just in a random, crazy dream. I was trapped inside the book.