Chapter 1: Truth Hurts on Wedding Night

I transmigrated into a gothic tragic romance novel as the female lead—and somehow, I ended up cursed to only tell the truth. Lucky me, right?

It’s wild, right? One minute I’m scrolling through my Kindle at 2 a.m., and the next, I’m smack-dab in the middle of a candlelit manor, corset digging into my ribs—and a mouth that refuses to sugarcoat anything.

The vicious stepsister: "Remember? Savannah was begging me in tears, so I let her marry you instead."

Me: "Yeah, right! You ditched him because he was in a wheelchair, then ran off with some other guy and disappeared in the middle of the night. I’m the one who got shoved into the wedding limo."

I swear, the look on her face was priceless—like she’d just sucked on a lemon. In a room full of high-society vultures, her fake tears dried up real fast, let me tell you.

The villainous male side character: "Savannah saved me. I’d do anything for her. If she wants you gone, then you’re gone!"

He said it like he was auditioning for some mafia drama. I just rolled my eyes. Seriously, this guy was two bad decisions away from a restraining order.

The brain-damaged male lead: "Annie, I know I was wrong. That rumor about you and the Governor’s son—it’s not true, right? It was all a misunderstanding, right?"

Me: "The kid’s his."

Seriously, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Guess subtlety was never my strong suit. Thanks, truth curse!

Honestly? Having a mouth that only tells the truth is kind of a blast!

I mean, there’s something almost liberating about it. No more sugar-coating, no more walking on eggshells. The looks I get? Worth it every single time. Totally worth it.

I’m the female lead in a tragic gothic romance. The kind who can’t speak up for herself… gets misunderstood. Loses her baby. Gets strung up in the town square for three days. Thrown off a cliff. Endures every torment you can imagine—but never explains herself, leaving it to the male lead to figure everything out on his own before they’re forced into a happy ending.

And let me tell you, the script for my life is pure misery porn. If there’s a worst-case scenario, I’m living it. But hey—at least I’m not boring.

The moment I transmigrated, my stepsister eloped. So guess what? As the actual daughter, I got stuck marrying the brooding, wheelchair-bound Lord of Maple Heights.

Talk about drawing the short straw. My first day in this new world, and I’m already in a wedding dress that smells like mothballs. Great.

Meet Sebastian Whitfield, the so-called Lord of Maple Heights. The male lead.

The wheelchair? Definitely fake. But the illness? That’s real.

Rumor had it he was a tragic, misunderstood soul—rich, powerful, and mean as a snake. The kind of guy who could freeze a room with just a look.

On our wedding night, he lifted my veil, saw my unfamiliar face, and his face fell, just like that. No hesitation. He yanked me off the bed and threw me to the floor.

"Who are you? Where’s Savannah?"

He was all sharp cheekbones and stormy eyes, the kind of guy who could make a threat sound romantic. For a second, I almost forgot my lines.

I knew transmigrating was dangerous—breaking character could get me killed. One wrong move, and I’m toast.

Trying to maintain my weak, innocent, delicate wallflower persona, I bit my lip, eyes brimming with tears, and wanted to say, "I don’t know."

But what came out was, "Still thinking about Savannah? She ran off with some broke musician ages ago!"

"She found out you were paralyzed and didn’t waste a second—took a cab and left in the middle of the night!"

"I’m Annie Carter, her actual younger sister!"

I froze. Then I clapped my hand over my mouth.

Crap! Did I seriously just say that out loud? Is that even allowed?

Sebastian Whitfield’s face turned thunderous. He glared at me, eyes practically boring holes through my skull.

He bent down. Grabbed my collar. Hauled me up.

His voice was low. Dangerous. "What did you say?"

I was terrified. On the verge of tears. I frantically waved my hands. I wanted to say, "Sir, you’ve misunderstood, that’s not what I meant."

But what came out was, "What, you can’t hear either? First your legs, now your ears?"

He glared at me so hard I thought his eyes might pop out.

"Annie Carter! Seriously, are you trying to drive me to an early grave?"

I tried to clamp my mouth shut. Tried to keep my thoughts inside. But I couldn’t hold back.

"Yep, that’s right. Hurry up and die—I’m waiting for the free food at your funeral!"

Honestly, even I was shocked at how fast my mouth was moving. In my head, I was screaming for a do-over, but nope—no filter, no brakes.

He took a deep breath. Then suddenly, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye.

"Annie Carter, are you acting out just to get my attention?"

What kind of question is that?

"Very well. Congratulations—you’ve succeeded!"

"I’ll never forget this humiliation for as long as I live."

Tears slid down my cheeks. But what came out of my mouth was—

"Seriously, Lord Whitfield… Oh, come on, you sure can hold a grudge!"

"Damn it, I wasn’t the one who dumped you, it was Savannah! I was forced to marry you as a stand-in, okay?"

His grip tightened. Like he was about to snap my jaw.

"Wasn’t it because you wanted to be Lady Whitfield so badly?"

Me: "Yeah, right! My scumbag dad was just scared of your power. So he forced me to take my sister’s place."

"I’m the real daughter, and I had to stand in for a stepsister—what rotten luck!"

This truth-telling curse is brutal. Even the brooding male lead can’t handle it.

He gave me a complicated look, words stuck in his throat.

"Wait, you’re really Judge Carter’s real daughter?"

Me: "Of course I am! You wanted a stepsister, but got the real daughter instead—aren’t you lucky! Congrats, right?"

"My scummy dad’s the county’s deputy chief judge, you know! He’s just a bit of a coward. But he’s got power and status, okay?"

His jaw flexed. He didn’t say a word for a few beats. The silence was thick enough to choke on.

Sebastian gripped my waist. After a long moment, instead of getting angry, he laughed.

He turned to the guard, Marcus. “Go investigate!”

“Find out if she’s really Judge Carter’s daughter.”

Marcus shot me a sympathetic look. Nodded. Left.

“Yes, sir!”

It’s over. I’m done for.

I shut my eyes. Tried to fake a faint.

Please, just let me get out of this nightmare already.

His arm around mine tightened. “Why are you fainting?”

My mouth twitched. My eyes snapped open. “I’m not. I was faking! Heh!”

Sebastian: “Argh!”

I covered my face, tears slipping through my fingers. “Hehehe…”