JULY 22ND. 3:23 PM - after book singing event
ISABELLA
Today I finished getting ready to publish my novel that I was working on for a few years. I needed to get coffee and work on some last edits. The last thing I remember is thinking, I should really look both ways. The next thing I remember is dying, losing consciousness in the middle of a crossroad when people around me were screaming nonstop. When I woke up, someone was screaming. That someone was me. I shot upright, tangled in expensive sheets, gasping like I had just been dragged out of a grave. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might actually finish the job the truck started.
"This isn't my bed." I said out loud. "I am not supposed to be alive, I clearly remember getting hit by a truck."
This wasn't my apartment. The room was massive, rich, painfully dramatic, like a CEO romance had thrown up everywhere. I stumbled out of bed, nearly tripped on a rug that probably cost more than my rent, and ran to the mirror. Wrong face, wrong body, and wrong everything.
Memories slammed into my head all at once: tea parties, etiquette lessons, a side character with exactly two scenes, and a future labelled tragic but convenient. Bella Hearthstone. A lady with wine red eyes and snow white hair. I stared at my reflection in horror. I was inside my own novel world.
"No. No, no, no. Absolutely not."I whispered.
Because Bella Hearthstone wasn't the heroine. She was the disposable side character in my own novel 'How to Escape My Obsessed CEO'. I nearly finished a week ago. And if I was right, which I always was, I had exactly three options ahead of me. First one was to get ignored, second was get dragged into the plot, and the third one, the worst one get killed for character development.
"I knew I should have written a safer story."I muttered.
Then someone knocked on the door, and the moment I heard his voice on the other side, my blood ran cold. I had no idea about her household since she wasn't as important, and this was chapter one. I was still trying to decide whether screaming or fainting would be more productive when the door opened. A maid walked in, calm as death and twice as punctual, pushing a breakfast cart.
"Good morning, Lady Bella." He said.
I froze. He had black hair, neatly tied back, and clear blue eyes that took in the room like she was mentally checking boxes, no glowing. No creepy smiles. Just… professional. Meanwhile, I caught my reflection in the mirror again, with white hair and red eyes. The maid parked the cart beside the bed and began setting plates down. Toast, eggs, some fruit. Steam rising like this was a perfectly normal morning and not my second life.
"James?" I asked carefully.
He glanced up.
"Yes, my lady?"He asked.
Okay. Good. At least the universe kept one thing consistent. I gestured vaguely at my face.
"Did I always look like this?"I asked.
James paused, then nodded once.
"Of course."He said.
"White hair?"I asked.
"Yes."He said.
"Red eyes?"I asked again.
"Yes."He said.
He tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
"Would you prefer the curtains closed? The light can be harsh on your eyes."James suggested.
I stared at him, I had been hit by a truck, reborn inside my own novel, given the most dramatic genetics possible and the maid was worried about my light sensitivity.
"Right." I muttered, sitting down. "Sure, breakfast first. Existential crisis later."
James pulled out a chair with practiced ease.
"You'll need your strength today."He said.
"Why?"I asked.
She placed a cup of tea in front of me.
"Because this is the day the story starts."He muttered.
I choked on absolutely nothing.
"I'm sorry, what?"I asked.
"The household schedule, my lady."James blinked.
I must have misheard something. I exhaled slowly and picked up my fork. After a meal, James, a male, tall, black haired, very much a future buttler in training waited patiently while I dressed like I wasn't internally screaming. The outfit laid out for me was ridiculous. High quality fabric, elegant cut, side character rich but not important enough to rebel. I sighed and pulled it on anyway. White hair braided neatly, red eyes staring back at me from the mirror like I was someone else's problem.
"Do I have a notebook?" I asked.
James immediately handed me one. Of course he did. I clutched it like a lifeline. If I was trapped in my own novel, I am keeping notes. Authors survive by outlining. Downstairs, reality slapped me again. Rosalie Hearthstone sat in the sunlit sitting room, posture perfect, expression warm in the way that never quite reached her eyes. My stepmother, elegant, calculating.
"Isabella, you are eighteen now."She looked me over and smiled.
Ah, that scene. I sat down slowly. I knew exactly what was going to happen moments later.
"I am."I said.
"It's time you became independent." Rosalie continued sweetly. "Our family can't support you forever. You should find a job."
I almost laughed. In the original plot, this was the moment Bella Hearthstone quietly exited high society and entered the background poverty arc.
"Of course." I said, already flipping open my notebook. "Any suggestions?"
"A small cafe downtown is hiring. I think the modest work suits you. Translation: out of the house, out of the way."Rosalie's smile sharpened.
"Thanks for the suggestion, mother. "I said.
At the same day I got hired and rented small apartment with my 'poor allowance', and began my first training shift. The cafe was small, warm, and smelled like coffee strong enough to resurrect the dead, which felt personally targeted. I tied on an apron, told myself this was fine, and repeated my new life mantra: stay invisible. Avoid the male lead. Five minutes later, I turned too fast with a tray. I slammed directly into a wall of expensive fabric and solid muscle. Coffee splashed, cups rattled and strong hands caught the tray before it hit the floor.
"m so-" I started apologizing, then looked up.
No, no, no, no. The CEO. Xavier Stoneheart. Tall, impossibly composed. Dark suit like he owned the building, and probably the city. His eyes met mine, sharp and assessing, then paused. He looked interested, which was not supposed to happen.
"I apologize." I said quickly, stepping back. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
He didn't move, did not even blink. Instead, his lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.
"Isabella Hearthstone." He said, like the name belonged to him. "Pleasure to meet you outside events."
My blood went cold. I had never told him my name, and just like that, I knew I hadn't bumped into the CEO by accident. I had walked straight into the beginning of the story I was trying to escape.