Paid to be the Villainess

Crash! The construction crew ripped my entire bedroom door off its hinges. I woke up in a novel as the ultimate villainess, right at the story's endgame.

Knowing I was doomed, I threw my hands up and decided to quietquit life, locking myself in my room for ten days straight to play video games.

But right now, my stepbrother, Roman, stepped over the ruined doorframe with his cold, piercing glare. He didn't scold me.

Instead, he tossed an American Express Centurion Black Card onto the desk. "I'm adding another five hundred thousand dollars to your trust fund every month.

As long as you stop acting like a crazy bitch and messing with them, you can blow this money however you want." Then, my biological father, Marshall, who spent all year drifting overseas, sent a text. [Chase Bank Alert: An offshore trust account has wired $1,000,000.00 to your account.] "Call me Daddy, and this pocket money is yours." A few days later, even Shelby—the female lead I used to ruthlessly target—showed up at my door.

Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled a check from her Hermès Birkin bag and slapped it on the table in front of me. "Here's eight hundred thousand dollars.

I need you to keep acting like a psycho and ruin my engagement party with Preston!" Me: "???" Have you all lost your fucking minds?! Chapter 1 The midday sun was blisteringly hot.

A pictureperfect couple stood arminarm, radiating sickening happiness. Guests swarmed around them, showering them with polite blessings.

Looking around, the entire venue was buzzing with warmth and celebration. Except for me.

Amidst the applause, the person to my right spoke in a voice devoid of warmth. "They are officially engaged.

You'd better bury whatever vicious schemes you have left in your head." The person to my left sneered, holding a flute of champagne. "If you dare ruin this, I will throw you into a private rehab center and let you rot.

Our PR team does not have the time to wipe your ass." I let out a scoff. Right. Because I'm just supposed to sit here and take it.

When other people wake up in a novel, they get to be the adored leading lady, basking in plot armor. Me? I got shoved into the body of the disposable villainess.

A notorious, irredeemable villainess whose rap sheet of evil deeds was already maxed out. The plot had already hit its season finale.

The golden couple had overcome every obstacle this body's original owner threw at them, finally getting their dream engagement. And me, the stepping stone?

I was scheduled to be systematically tortured and destroyed by the male lead the second he put a ring on his beloved. As for the plot, the shit this body pulled was unjustifiable.

Preston's revenge was only a matter of time.

Sure, my family had old money status, but my absentee father, Marshall, was obsessed with the stock market, constantly jetsetting around the globe.

The estate was entirely run by his perfect trophy wife—Eleanor, my stepmother, who despised my guts. I'd be thanking God if she didn't dig a grave for me herself.

And Roman, my stepbrother? He heavily admired Shelby's girlboss competence. By targeting Shelby, I had successfully painted a massive target on my own back. Fine.

Play me like that? Whoever wants this trashtier script can have it. I quit. Since I was already neckdeep in the mud, I might as well lay back and rot.

If everyone already thought I was a psycho bitch, then I was going to lose my mind and crash this whole party down with me!

I crossed my arms and shot them a deadpan look. "They already put a ring on it. What exactly do you expect me to do?

Kidnap the bride in broad daylight?" Roman didn't even bother to glance in my direction. "You know exactly what you did.

Just sit still and don't make a scene at this engagement." Eleanor's perfectly manicured brow twitched. "Wait, why the bride?" I flashed her an enigmatic, unhinged smile.

Was I going to admit I misspoke because I bingewatched too much reality TV? Absolutely not. The engagement party wrapped up flawlessly.

Ironically, that seemed to put the golden couple on edge. Preston guided Shelby over to our table, smoothly striking up a conversation with Roman and Eleanor.

I leaned back against my chair, expressionless as I downed my glass of Dom Pérignon in one single gulp.

Chapter 2 For however long this engagement party dragged on, I was mocked by the two plastic Barbie socialites sitting on either side of me. I was already suffocating in this dress.

Now, my stomach was tight with builtup rage, and I hadn't even been offered a decent drink. Fuck this. What a trashtier existence.

Yet, the quieter I stayed, the more panicked Preston and Shelby seemed to get.

They exchanged a look before Preston couldn't hold back anymore. "Roman… Odette, she's…" Roman sat there with absolute composure, his gaze condescending, exuding that infuriating alphamale aura of having everything under his control. "Relax.

I was out of the loop before.

But now that I'm back, she won't get another chance to make a mess of your lives." He raised his voice just enough, deliberately letting the words slice through the air to reach me.

That was the final straw. The last inch of the fuse had just burned out. I smashed the champagne flute in my hand, glass shards scattering across the floor. "Fuck this!

Since I'm already an irredeemable villainess in the eyes of you hypocritical bastards anyway… then save your breath and stop pretending to care about me!

I'll lock myself away so I never have to poison your precious little lives again!

I couldn't care less what the rest of them say, but Shelby!" I pointed a shaking finger straight at her, letting my eyes turn bloodshot. "Have you really forgotten whose fault it is that I turned out like this?!" Right on cue, the tears I had been forcing up finally spilled over.

Two perfect drops rolled down my cheeks, a masterpiece of tragic, heartbroken beauty. You know what the highest tier of trashtalking is?

Never giving the enemy a chance to counterattack. After dropping that bomb, I covered my face and sprinted away. The group behind me was left paralyzed.

Shelby, abruptly shoved into the spotlight, took a moment to process the hit.

She turned to Preston, her normally flawless composure cracking into genuine confusion. "What did she mean by that?" Preston, having grown up with me, knew my temper better than anyone.

He scoffed, his jaw tight. "She's just saying that to disgust us. Don't let it get to your head, Shelby." Roman let out a frigid scoff. "Locking herself away?

If she actually had that kind of selfawareness, my father would be thanking God." Eleanor's focus, however, was beautifully skewed. "Why did she point at Shelby at the end?

Did something happen between you two in the past?" Shelby furrowed her brows. "Impossible.

I didn't even know her before." My stepmother pressed the issue, refusing to let it go. "Earlier at the ceremony, she also made a slip about 'kidnapping the bride'." Kidnapping the bride.

Who kidnapped her bride? Or whose bride was she trying to kidnap? Eleanor looked at the golden couple in front of her, then stared in the direction I had fled.

After a long moment, she covered her mouth with her fingers, forcibly swallowing the words that were about to spill out. Oh my god.

Did Marshall's daughter turn out to be into women???

I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, drifting my Aston Martin all the way back to the family's ultraluxurious estate nestled halfway up the hills of Beverly Hills.

Eleanor and Roman usually preferred their penthouse in the city. But the household staff who watched me grow up were all stationed at the main estate.

I ran into the mansion with fake sobs tearing from my throat. I grabbed my phone, iPad, and laptop, and hurled them into the hallway. "Get rid of all this garbage!

I never want to see it again!" I screamed, making sure my voice cracked perfectly. I slammed the door and locked it tight.

I grabbed a golf club and shattered the priceless antique fulllength mirror into a million pieces, then dragged every piece of seasonal haute couture from my walkin closet and hurled them straight out the window into the heated pool below.

Grunting with effort, I shoved my desk and a heavy accent chair against the door to barricade it. I yanked the blackout curtains shut. The room descended into pitchblack darkness.

Chapter 3 The family estate was massive. My bedroom alone was a fullblown penthouse suite, complete with a private lounge, a study, a walkin closet, and toptier soundproofing.

After scrubbing off my makeup, I faceplanted onto the mattress and passed out instantly.

Before transmigrating, I had pulled three allnighters straight trying to clear a video game. I honestly suspected I had died of a sudden heart attack and respawned here.

I slept so hard I lost all concept of time. I cracked my eyes open—still pitch black. I went back to sleep. Woke up again—still dark. Back to sleep.

When I opened my eyes a third time, I let out a groan. Damn, this is one longass night. I was literally starving, yet the sun still hadn't come up.

I rolled over, the cool touch of pure silk sheets brushing against my skin. "…" Fuck. I forgot. I had transmigrated. I yanked the blackout curtains open.

Nope, still the dead of night outside. I flipped on the lights and scoured the room for food. I found a row of hidden cabinets in the lounge. I popped them open—jackpot.

Floortoceiling junk food. The study wasn't filled with boring classic literature, either. It was stacked with manga and graphic novels.

There were even two topspec gaming consoles fully loaded with every mainstream game on the market. Damn.

Odette might have been a hopelessly romantic idiot, but you had to admit, the girl had immaculate taste. Unlimited snacks, premium drinks, and endless entertainment.

I stayed locked in there, losing track of the days going by. Just outside my door. A crowd had gathered in the usually pristine, quiet hallway of the estate.

Eleanor crossed her arms, her tone completely unimpressed. "If I remember correctly, the snack stash in Odette's room was just fully restocked half a month ago." "She can't survive on just junk food!

There's zero nutrition in that!" Milton, the old butler, wiped his eyes. "I watched that girl grow up. She never liked junk food!

And with how upset she was, she definitely hasn't eaten a single thing in days!" The mere thought of Marshall finding out made Eleanor and Roman's expressions shift.

Marshall was out there making billions, and they had pushed his precious daughter to the point of starving herself in a locked room. Not a good look.

Roman's jaw tightened. "Call the construction crew.

Tear the door down and get her out." Milton wiped another tear, shooting Roman a pleading look. "She won't listen to the staff, Roman.

If you want her out of there, you have to be the one to do it." Chapter 4 Roman looked up, his jaw clenched tight. "I'll go get her myself." Milton finally looked satisfied. "Roland, hurry up and cook Miss Odette's favorite dishes!

Riley, bring out the antique goldplated dining set she loves. Reid, go cut the best roses from the garden and arrange them!

Miss Odette rarely dines at the main estate, everything must be absolutely perfect!" Eleanor sat on the living room sofa, her face icecold.

This was exactly why she loathed the main estate, and by extension, Odette. She had been married into this family for twenty years and had never received this kind of treatment.

Never! Inside the pitchblack room. The massive monitor emitted a dim, cold glow. I sat there, my face deathly pale.

I had been grinding this horror game for five and a half days, and I finally cleared it. Fuck, it was supposed to be a horror game, why was the ending so damn emotional?

Watching the male protagonist tightly embrace the female lead's cold, dead body, I sobbed uncontrollably. "Destroying yourself over a pieceoftrash man, Odette.

You're pathetic." A low, freezing voice dropped from above. I snapped my head up.

Roman stood in the violently dismantled doorframe, his bespoke Tom Ford suit entirely free of wrinkles.

He looked like a coldblooded tyrant, looking down on my pathetic state from his high horse.

I sniffled, wiping my nose. "How the hell did you get in?" The bedroom door opened inwards, and I had barricaded it with half the furniture in the room.

There was no way he could have opened it. Roman tilted his chin. I poked my head out of the gaming lounge. The bedroom door was wide open. Or rather, there was no door left.

The construction crew had unhinged it, and the remaining guys were currently tearing down the doorframe. My barricade had naturally been cleared away. Fucking rich people.

I wiped my face. "What do you want?" Roman's attitude grew even colder. "Go down and eat." "Not eating." Emotionally wrecked by my game, I had zero appetite.

Roman furrowed his brows. "Stop throwing a tantrum." I flipped him the middle finger. "This is my territory. If I want to rot in here, I'll rot in here.

Get the fuck out of my room!" Roman stared right through me. My eyes were bloodshot, but I glared right back, refusing to back down.

After a tense standoff, Roman's voice went dead flat. "If that's what you want, suit yourself.

Take all those useless gaming consoles, comics, and junk food in her room, and throw them all straight into the heated pool outside." !!!

My eyes widened in pure horror. "What the hell are you doing?!" "If you're going to isolate yourself and reflect on your sins, do it properly.

You never used this stuff anyway, so getting rid of it won't make a difference." The men behind Roman immediately moved to execute the order. "Wait, hold up!" I practically leaped forward to stop them. "I gave it some deep thought.

As long as the intention is there, anywhere can be a solitary confinement cell! Alright, you head down first, Roman. Let me just wash my face, and I'll be right there.

Wow, I haven't eaten in days, I'm starving!" A faint chuckle drifted from behind me. I snapped my head back. Roman was still standing there, his face an absolute block of ice.

Seeing me turn, he slightly lifted his eyelids, his cold, untouchable aura practically overflowing. "Anything else?" "…No." Why did I even think that ice block would laugh?

Did grinding that game fry my brain to the point where I couldn't tell reality from hallucinations?

Seeing me walk downstairs, Milton looked ready to set off fireworks. "Miss Odette, you've finally come down!

I had the kitchen prepare all your favorites." Chapter 5 Milton was probably the only person in this entire estate who actually gave a damn about me.

My expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry for making you worry these past few days." A massive feast was already laid out across the long dining table.

Ignoring the ridiculously extravagant candelabras and floral arrangements, I pulled out a chair and sat down.

Eleanor sliced the Beef Wellington on her plate, not even bothering to lift her eyelids. "A hunger strike? That's a cheap stunt pulled by slum girls in thirdrate tabloids.

Don't embarrass yourself at the family dining table." "Got it," I mumbled.

The heavy meat and seafood dishes were all crowded on my side of the table, while Eleanor and Roman's side was strictly greens.

Noticing Eleanor carefully cutting a small piece of fried quail on her plate, I simply picked up the entire dish, slid it over to her, and shamelessly swapped it for a plate of sautéed lotus root that I actually wanted.

Eleanor's knife paused midair. Her meticulously arched brows knitted together as she stared at the dish.

She stared at the quail, her perfectly painted lips pressing into a tight, complicated line.

After a long beat, her tone actually softened. "Your monthly trust fund payout will be bumped up by another million dollars," Eleanor said. "Go buy a yacht or keep a few Clist Hollywood models as boy toys.

Just don't let us catch you crying over that idiot ever again." I gripped my fork tightly. A whole million dollars!!!

I couldn't even fathom how bright and sunny my disposition would be with that kind of cash padding my account every month! What evil stepmother? This woman was my fairy godmother!

I could literally cry right now. All my previous phones and iPads had been tossed out. But Roman's efficiency was terrifying.

Right after dinner, a brandnew set of the latest tech gadgets was delivered to my room, along with a sleek new bank card.

Roman tossed the card on the table. "As long as you stay out of trouble and stop messing with Preston and Shelby, you can blow through whatever's on this card." He was still the same coldblooded ice block, but in my eyes, he was suddenly glowing with a holy halo.

I promised him, "Don't worry, Roman. I've turned over a new leaf. I'm a reborn woman!" I strongly agreed with one thing Eleanor said.

Go out and see the world, and you won't be so fixated on one man. I had a million dollars in my pocket! A million freaking dollars!

Golden retriever boys, bad boys, gym bros with broad shoulders, aloof pretty boys… With this kind of money, what kind of man couldn't I get? So, I hit the biggest club in the city.

Yet, barely a few drinks in, the VIP room door was kicked open. I was forcibly dragged all the way back to Roman's penthouse.

To make his commute to Wall Street easier, Roman had bought a luxury penthouse right in the city center and practically lived there fulltime.

When his goons dragged me in, he was still in his study, signing off on documents.

He was dressed in casual loungewear, wearing rimless glasses, his hair falling softly across his forehead, making him look years younger. Damn.

Looking at him like this, he actually gave off major primehusband material vibes. I'd seen my fair share of hot guys, but compared to Roman, they were all miles behind.

But the second I remembered the eye candy at the club that I didn't even get to properly enjoy, anger flared right back up in my chest.

Chapter 6 "What the hell is your problem, Roman? Didn't you say I could do whatever I wanted as long as I stayed out of trouble? Did I go bother Preston? Did I go harass Shelby?

I was just having a few drinks!

What gives you the right to have your goons drag me back here?" I slammed my hands heavily on his solid oak desk. "If you don't give me a good explanation right now, I swear I'll—" "You'll what?" Roman looked up, his gaze razorsharp. "Stopped obsessing over Preston, so you switched to ogling other men at clubs?

You're really full of surprises, Odette." "What's wrong with spending my own money stuffing dollar bills into strippers' waistbands at a strip club?!" I shot back. "What would a coldblooded puritan like you know?

Those boys are sweating on that pole to pay their college tuition! They need my financial support!

They literally told me I appreciate their abs better than anyone else!" Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are banned from going there again.

Disobey, and your allowance drops to a hundred grand a month." My passionate manifesto came to a screeching halt.

Saving fallen male angels was important, but my money was way more important.

I asked, my voice suddenly much smaller, "Can I still go to regular lounges if I don't hire any male companions?" Roman emphasized, his tone dropping, "Only quiet lounges.

And this better not happen a second time." I nodded vigorously. "Don't worry, boss. I'm the queen of knowing my limits." The very next night.

Same study, same people, reunited once again. Roman took off his rimless glasses, looking utterly exhausted. "Queen of knowing her limits. Let's hear it.

What's the excuse this time?" I bit my lip, insisting it was a huge misunderstanding.

The man standing next to me spoke up. "Miss Odette ordered ten bottle girls at the lounge and bought premium liquor under each of their names.

To win Miss Odette's favor, the girls got into a massive fistfight and nearly caught Miss Odette in the crossfire." He was the bodyguard Roman had assigned to tail me in secret.

Seeing things spiral out of control, he hauled me straight back to Roman. "The name of the bar." "Sunset Gala. It's a highend lounge." "Understood.

Get out." Roman's expression remained perfectly flat. The bodyguard turned to leave, and I quickly moved to follow him out.

A voice sliced through the air from behind me, cold as crushed ice. "You stay." Only Roman and I were left in the study.

After a long beat of suffocating silence, I broke the tension first. "If you don't have anything to say, I'm just going to leave—" "Odette." His tone was dangerously calm.

My chest tightened. "I genuinely can't read you right now. What exactly are you trying to do?" Ha, what was I trying to do?

I was trying to use my rocksolid mental state to run over everyone in my path!

Seeing Roman's own composure teetering on the edge, I decided to just go fully unhinged. "I lock myself in my room, and you force me out. You gave me the money.

How I spend it is my own damn business, right? Did I sleep around? Did I do drugs? Did I gamble away the family fortune?" "I didn't do anything! I just went out for a few drinks.

I didn't even get to touch anyone's hand before I was dragged back here and slapped with a million restrictions!

You Wall Street bastards throw yacht parties on the beach all the time! Are you telling me you're all pure little angels?

With my net worth, what's wrong with keeping a few models with eightpack abs as my personal toys?!" Roman's gaze turned frigid. "Even if you want to play around, you shouldn't be touching those dirty, diseaseridden street trash." I let out a harsh scoff. "Shouldn't the only requirement be that they're good in bed and don't get clingy?" Roman's voice dropped to a dangerous octave. "Watch your mouth!" Chapter 7 I looked at Roman, who sat unmoving in his chair, and let out a sudden, cold laugh.

I swung my leg over and straddled his lap, grabbing his tie and yanking him toward me.

My breathing brushed aggressively against his lips. "Since you think the men outside are so dirty, Stepbrother," I mocked softly against the shell of his ear, "and we're not related by blood anyway, why don't you step up and satisfy me yourself?" Roman's breathing instantly grew heavy, the veins on his forehead bulging.

He gripped my waist so hard it felt like he was going to crush my bones