Chapter 1

I was screwed. That was the only thought in my mind when I woke up.

The man beside me was still asleep. His profile was striking, almost like a sculpture of a god, but his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were not resting peacefully.

My hands trembled as I took in the surroundings. The room was an opulent presidential suite, and the white shirt on him was rumpled, clearly tugged out of shape by me. My mind rang with a sharp buzz.

I had transmigrated into a novel.

And not just anyone. I had become the vicious supporting female character who drugged the top-tier tycoon male lead, Edward Foster, in a desperate attempt to climb her way up.

Her ending was brutal. Edward would take revenge, her family would go bankrupt, and she would die after jumping off a building.

I bolted upright from the bed and scrambled down in a panic.

Run. I had to run.

But before I could get away, a hand clamped around my ankle like iron.

He was awake. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with a cold, wolf-like intensity.

"Running?"

His voice was hoarse, still heavy with the aftereffects of alcohol and the drug, carrying a lazy edge that only made it more dangerous. It sent a chill straight through me.

"Sophia Nolan, you went to all that trouble to get into my bed, and now you want to walk away without taking responsibility?"

*****

Oh no. He was awake. Why was he awake so soon? The story said he would be unconscious until noon the next day.

The blood in my body seemed to freeze. I turned back stiffly, like a small animal caught in place.

Edward propped himself up slightly. The black silk sheet slipped from his firm waist, revealing sharply defined lines along his lower abdomen.

He looked at me with calm interest, as if he had all the time in the world.

His gaze did not see a despicable woman who had drugged him. It felt more like he was watching prey that had fallen into a trap, trembling and unable to escape.

"Mr. Foster." I forced out a smile that looked worse than crying, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "I didn't do anything. You had too much to drink, so I just helped you inside to rest."

Yes, exactly. As long as I denied everything, he had no proof.

Edward raised an eyebrow. His gaze slowly drifted downward, landing on the tear in my slip dress, then moving to the few lonely buttons from his shirt scattered across the bed.

He said nothing, but his expression made everything clear.

Embarrassment burned through me so intensely that I wanted to disappear on the spot.

The original Sophia had gone to extreme lengths just to break into high society and secure a chance at marrying into wealth. Edward, the sole heir of the Foster Group and a man standing at the very top, had been her ultimate target.

Unfortunately, she had no idea she was just a disposable supporting character in a novel. All her reckless actions would do was push the male and female leads closer together, and write the epitaph of her own tragic death.

"Is that so?" Edward finally spoke. He sat up at an unhurried pace, and the silk sheet slid completely off him, revealing his perfectly sculpted, inverted-triangle physique.

Don't look, don't look. This body is completely unfair. But this is not the time to notice that.

He stepped toward me, closing the distance bit by bit, his presence so overwhelming it made it hard to breathe.

I retreated instinctively until my lower back hit the cold wall, leaving me nowhere else to go.

"Then why don't we," he said, reaching out to lightly hook a strand of my hair with his fingers, his voice low and suggestive, "go over how you 'helped' me in here last night?"

His fingertips were burning hot, and the touch sent a jolt through me.

"I don't remember!" I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself as if facing death.

"That's fine." He let out a quiet laugh, his warm breath brushing against my ear and sending a shiver through me. "I can help you remember."

In the next second, the world spun.

He swept me up in his arms and threw me back onto the soft bed.

"Mr. Foster, please calm down. We're both adults, we can talk this through." I struggled frantically, trying to push him away.

He leaned over me, bracing his arms on either side of my body and pinning me in place. His eyes were like a bottomless abyss, as if they could swallow me whole.

"Sure," he said, the corner of his lips lifting into a smile that was both dangerous and captivating. "Then let's talk about it like adults.

"For example, we can start with the question of responsibility."