Chapter 2: Gala Games and Secret Thoughts

Nora’s face actually changed. She turned away, cheeks burning.

She tugged her robe tighter, lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, she looked just like any other embarrassed girl. Almost painfully human.

“Delaney really cares about me.”

Me: Huh?

“She’s worried I’ll catch cold, so she tells me my robe’s open. She’s worried about my reputation, so she mentions the snoring. So thoughtful.”

Me: ???

I blurted, “I don’t care about you at all!”

Oops. Only I could hear her thoughts—shouting that out just made me look like I was covering up how much I cared.

Sure enough, Nora glanced up, eyes bright with delight.

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. There was something mischievous in her gaze. Like she’d caught me doing something sweet and was savoring the secret.

“Still so stubborn. Adorable.”

?

Deep breath. I’m a professional. Stick to the plan.

I crossed to the old oak dresser, eyed the leftover coffee cake on her nightstand, and said with a sneer, “Yesterday Carter picked up a box of coffee cake from that fancy bakery on Main. I thought it was too sweet, so I gave it to the staff. Didn’t expect it’d end up with you.”

The coffee cake still had a bite missing, cinnamon sugar crusted on the edge. I wrinkled my nose, making a show of disdain.

Afraid she’d twist my words, I added, “What I mean is, in Carter’s eyes, you’re no different than the help—just another mouth to feed.”

I’d made it as harsh as possible—surely she’d get I was mocking her.

But Nora’s cheeks turned pink, her eyes shy. “You ate the coffee cake?”

I hesitated, “Uh—not yet.”

She looked disappointed. “Oh. Haven’t tried it.”

Why are you disappointed?!

By the time I left Nora’s room, I was sweating through my blouse. Great. So much for poise.

My hands were clammy, and I had to resist the urge to check my reflection in the hallway mirror. This was supposed to be easy, but my heart was racing like I’d just run a mile.

Turns out, even a villainess can have a bad workday.

It was like bombing a pitch in front of the whole boardroom—except the only audience was a girl in a robe with bedhead, and I still felt like a fraud.

The original only described how Nora was bullied by Delaney, how she suffered in the Ashford mansion, but never wrote Nora’s inner thoughts.

Other heroines are delicate roses. Nora? She’s a wildflower, through and through.

Almost lost both my fiancé and my dignity.

But the system didn’t warn me for deviating from the script. As long as I kept humiliating Nora, just like in the book, the plot would stay on track.

For now, anyway.

But besides Nora, there was another problem: the male lead of this melodramatic novel, Carter Ashford.

Carter was the heir to the Ashford estate, decorated war hero, famous all over Georgia, and, of course, heartbreakingly handsome.

He was the type who could make a crowd hush just by walking into a room, his uniform crisp, medals gleaming. The town gossips never tired of spinning tales about him at the salon.

Carter and Delaney had grown up together; he’d never cared that I was just the daughter of a small-town lawyer. Supposedly, he was crazy about me.

At least, until I died in the original. But that’s a story for later.

I checked the time—Carter should be up by now.

I hurried to his bedroom.