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When Shay lost her father at 16 years old she became the sole provider for her mother and brother. This meant giving up on her dreams of becoming an architect and working day and night to help support her mother. After many unsuccessful job interviews, Shay lands a job as the executive assistant to the CEO of one of the world's most renowned architectural firms in the world. Just when she believes her life is on the right track she meets a mysterious stranger while she's out celebrating her new job with her two best friends. One night passion led Shay down a path she never expected. Waking up next to the handsome stranger, in Las Vegas with a hangover from hell, a diamond engagement ring on her finger and a marriage certificate with her name scrawled next to another...Tristan Hoult. (Accidentally Yours: 151 Chapters & The sequel Love Me Again: 131 Chapters)

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.

After my song was cut short at karaoke, I found myself back at the song selection machine. I just had to wait for 28 more songs until it would finally be my turn again. The next song was called "The Answer". My boyfriend, John Aldama, and my best friend, Selena Summers, gave each other a look of mild disdain but decided to sing the duet to prevent an awkward silence. Their voices, one cool and one sweet, complemented each other perfectly. Ever since high school, they'd been neck and neck on the honor roll, always vying for first and second place. Even after joining a top-tier company, they'd constantly bicker over projects. Even years after graduation, the people in our high school group chat were still "shipping" their "love-hate dynamic". No matter how hard I tried, I always remained the forgotten third person, an overlooked backdrop. Listening to them sing, I suddenly felt so tired. I no longer felt like singing the song that I had to wait endlessly for. I quietly deleted the song I'd selected and sent a confirmation to the email that asked me to be relocated abroad for work.

In the seventh year of singing on the streets for a living, I finally save enough money for my boyfriend, Charlie Bond, to pay for our wedding and marry me. Late at night, a young woman suddenly walks up to me and requests a song just as I'm about to pack up. She says, "I'm in a bad mood. Just sing a couple of songs for me." When she notices my disabled leg, she transfers 5,000 dollars to me right away. She adds, "I'm sorry for bothering you when it's already so late. I'm just really upset. Please take pity on me and keep me company for a while." Looking at the payment notification, I nod. With this money, Charlie won't have to struggle so much when it comes to paying rent. He won't need to deliver food in the middle of rainstorms just to make ends meet. The young woman begins pouring her heart out to me. "My husband and I have been married for five years. Today, I found out that I'm pregnant. I wanted to share the good news with him, but then I found a diamond ring in his pocket! "No matter how much I question him, he refuses to say anything. I got so angry at him that I ran out of my home. Do you think he's cheating on me?" I hesitate and am just about to comfort her when her phone suddenly rings. A man's voice comes through the speaker. It sounds helpless yet affectionate. He says, "You're so silly. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. The ring is a custom-made gift for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but you found it before I could give it to you. Where are you? I'll come pick you up." The moment I hear that familiar voice, a chill runs down my spine. The name displayed on her phone is the exact same name as my boyfriend's—Charlie Bond.

She gave him her youth, her loyalty, her love, and in return, he gave her betrayal. For eight years, Nora Song believed in her marriage to Chance Hart, until his first love, Jenny Young, returned from abroad. He brought Jenny home on their wedding anniversary, and handed Nora the divorce papers. He asked her to step aside, just so he could fulfill Jenny's dying wishes. He unreasonably wanted her to be understanding, so she calmly packed up to leave. However, walking away was not an option. Bound by the crushing debts of her parents, Nora was forced to remain in the Hart household as nothing more than a servant. She was a proud world-class pianist, but she had to endure the humiliation of being mocked and belittled in her own home. That was until she discovered something that could change everything, eighty percent of the Hart family's shares, was signed over to her by the man who once saved her life. She would not leave empty-handed. She thought to herself, 'If Chance thinks I'm still the same woman who loves him unconditionally, he's about to learn just how cold a broken heart can be.'

I was the side character, the one destined to be neglected, forgotten, and never chosen. In the novel’s story, I was merely a background existence—the woman fated to marry the male lead, yet never once receive his love. The wife who shared his name but never his attention. Salvatore Mancini. The perfect male lead. Cold, powerful, and admired by everyone. Except me. Because in this story, his heart already belonged to someone else. When I first realized I had transmigrated into this novel, I thought I could change my fate. I tried to avoid the original scenes, tried to step away from the plot. But every time I tried to change something…I returned to the same place. The same moment, the same outcome. As if the unseen author of this story was reminding me again and again: You are only a puppet, and puppets don’t decide their roles. So I stopped resisting. If the story wanted me to be the neglected wife, then I would simply live quietly and let the plot run its course. That was my plan. Until one night, when I finally looked at the man and said casually— “Tell me something, Mr. Mancini. Aren’t you supposed to be my husband?” His cold eyes narrowed slightly, but I simply leaned back and smiled. “Then fulfill your role properly. Let’s see… what kind of man the great Salvatore Mancini is.” For the first time since our marriage he actually looked at me, not through me. At me. I didn’t know what changed after that, but from that night onward. Even when he looked at me with clear irritation. Salvatore Mancini began appearing around me more and more. Which left me with a very unsettling thought. The plot…It didn’t change, right?