Chapter 1

Waking up in a hospital bed, my brain feels like a hard drive trying to download a corrupted file, a chaotic mess of memories that definitely didn't belong to me.

One minute I'm just me. Next, I'm Charlotte Quinn, sole heiress to Quinn Group, and somehow, I've been cast as the bitchy villain in a trashy romance novel plot.

Apparently, my entire purpose in life is to fight the housekeeper's daughter for some guy, only to end up with my reputation in flames, my family bankrupt, and me, probably dead in a ditch.

I lightly touch the gauze taped to my forehead and pull up my banking app, my eyes tracing the obscene string of zeros in my private account.

I think, 'Was I out of my mind? Give up all this money for a man? As if.'

That is the moment the plot goes completely off the rails.

The so-called innocent heroine cried her eyes out. I am so sorry, but I don't do crocodile tears. The only confirmation I care about is a transaction alert from my bank.

The leading man is madly in love? That sounds draining. Would two million dollars be enough to help him move on and, you know, find a hobby?

Anyone trying to guilt-trip me with the family line gets a meeting with my lawyers. It's a very quick lesson in the legal food chain.

They say I'm all about the money and I'm incapable of real love.

To which I say, "Perfect." Catching feelings gets you hurt. Stacking cash is my Kevlar.

This is the story of an heiress who learned a simple trick: why waste energy on drama when you can just write a check?

It's a hilarious look at how she uses her family's fortune to shut down every hater, gold-digger, and two-faced friend in her orbit.

Don't bother trying to reason with me. Frankly, it's a waste of my money.

*****

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a ceiling, stark and white.

The air stung my nostrils with the sharp scent of disinfectant.

A figure in a white coat wavered into focus, their mouth moving, but the words were just a blur of sound.

"Ms. Quinn? You're with us. Are you feeling any pain?"

I ignored him. My brain was stuck on a loop, replaying scenes from some ridiculously cheesy drama.

The show had some ridiculous name, like "The Billionaire's Reluctant Bride".

The heroine was a girl named Lily Evans, the daughter of our family's housekeeper.

She was exactly what her name suggested, a total wallflower, so fragile she looked like she would faint if you sneezed, and she would tear up if you so much as looked at her wrong.

The hero was Andrew Grant, the man I had been engaged to since we were practically in diapers. He was gorgeous, ridiculously wealthy, and completely clueless.

And I was Charlotte Quinn, the villain of their story who was destined to spend my life scheming against Lily for Andrew, who would ultimately be my ruin. In the end, the script had me dying penniless and alone beneath a grimy city bridge.

I processed this all with a completely straight face.

The doctor was still droning on beside me. "Ms. Quinn, you took a tumble down the stairs. You have a mild concussion, so we'll need to keep you for a few days for observation."

Just then, a middle-aged woman threw herself at my bedside, grabbing my hand as the waterworks started on cue.

"Charlotte, you scared me to death! Why do you always have to go after Lily? She's Mrs. Evans' daughter! How could you push her down the stairs and get yourself hurt so badly in the process?"

That was my mother, Alice Quinn, the classic high-society lady. Her entire universe could be boiled down to three things: her roses, her next spa treatment, and her obsession with "what other people will think."

I pulled my hand from her grip.

"I didn't push her," I said flatly.

Alice froze for a second, and then her brow furrowed. "It's all on the security footage! Are you still going to lie? If Andrew hadn't been there to shield Lily, she would be the one lying in this hospital bed!"

Right. That's exactly how the script goes.

In the original plot, my character had found Andrew and Lily in a heated argument on the landing. When she went to confront them, Lily "slipped," and Andrew, without a second thought, dove to cushion her fall.

In the chaos, they knocked me over, sending me tumbling down the stairs and turning me into a public laughingstock.

The doctor tried to play peacemaker, explaining, "Mrs. Quinn, the patient just woke up. It's best not to agitate her."

Alice backed off slightly but kept muttering, "Andrew has already made it clear. He's calling off the engagement with our family. Honestly, Charlotte, why can't you do anything right?"

Her words were just noise, grating and pointless.

A few feet away, my father, Levi Quinn, the chairman of Quinn Group, was pacing back and forth on his phone.

He kept his voice low, but I could still catch key phrases drifting over, "the Grant family," "the project," "the merger."

See? This was my family.

One worried about our image, the other about our income.

And me? Their actual daughter? They couldn't care less if I lived or died.

That was fine.

Honestly, it was better this way because it saved me from having to deal with all the messy feelings.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, my head still throbbing.

"My phone. Get it for me."

Alice handed it over with a mask of disapproval. "What are you planning now? I'm warning you, Charlotte, do not harass Andrew!" she yelled.

I ignored her, unlocked the screen, and dialed a number from memory.

It connected almost immediately.

"Hey, Charlotte? How are you feeling?"

It was Andrew. His voice sounded deep and magnetic, but it was also laced with impatience and a cold distance.

"I'm fine," I said hoarsely. "Andrew, where are you?"

He paused before replying, "I'm with Lily. She's shaken up. The doctor said she needs someone with her."

"Oh," I answered and nodded to myself. "Get over here. We need to do this in person."

"Do what? Charlotte, we have nothing to talk about. Our engagement is over," he shouted as his voice turned to ice.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean," I said, keeping my tone flat. "Come over and let's make it official."

There was a dead silence on the other end.

Levi had finished his call, glaring at me now with a grim expression. Alice looked at me as if I had just sprouted a second head.

"Charlotte, what on earth are you talking about?"