The moment I realized I was the villainess in a "Billionaire CEO" novel, I had already been married to the tycoon for two years. According to the plot, I had exactly six months left before I was forced to step down and make room for the real lead. Those six months were supposed to be my descent into madness—a half-year of me sabotaging myself just to push the hero and heroine closer together before I met my miserable end. 1 I woke up early. Following my routine, I prepared my dear husband’s favorite club sandwich and a cup of hand-ground pour-over coffee. I tied his silk tie, fastened his cufflinks, and saw him out the door. Standing at the threshold, watching the tail lights of his car disappear, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck my brain. Everything I had "forgotten"—the memories of my past life and the plot of this world—came rushing back. It was an epiphany. A total awakening. Here’s the deal: 25 years ago, I was reborn into this world with memories of my previous life. At first, I didn't realize I was in a book. Not until a man smiled so wide his eyes disappeared and said, "Sweetie, you have a name now. We’re calling you Araminta. Ar-a-minta. A mix of Arthur and Minnie. What do you think?" Arthur Montgomery was the man in front of me—my father. Minnie was, obviously, my mother. Araminta. Arthur + Minnie. A bit cringe, if I’m honest. The name sounded familiar, but I didn't overthink it. Boring, "sentimental" names like that are common. Then he added, "My daughter is so beautiful. Yesterday, old man Sterling wanted to set her up with his son, Preston. Hmph. In his dreams." Then a gentle female voice drifted in. "Actually, I think little 'Pressy' is quite sweet. Our families have known each other for generations. At least we wouldn't have to worry about her being mistreated." "He wouldn't dare! If anyone touches my daughter, I’ll take them down with me!" ... I stopped listening after that. My mind was stuck on two names. Sterling. Preston. Preston Sterling. Preston Sterling?! Preston Sterling!!! In that moment, I finally knew where the familiarity came from. He was the male lead of the book I had read right before I died. It was a classic "Billionaire’s Sweet Secret" novel. In that book, Preston Sterling was the CEO—cold, ruthless, and never smiled. The "Sweet Secret" was Sunny Vance, a bubbly, warm-hearted secretary. As a corporate newbie, she faced endless setbacks, yet remained relentlessly optimistic. Her pure-hearted resilience caught the CEO’s eye. He went from being annoyed to intrigued, and eventually, deeply in love. But for a grand romance to be "epic," it needs obstacles. Araminta Montgomery was that obstacle. Araminta and Preston were childhood sweethearts. They were engaged as toddlers and married the moment they hit the legal age. Araminta loved Preston, but Preston’s feelings for her were based on duty, not desire. Before Sunny Vance, Preston didn't know what love was. His career and his marriage were just boxes to be checked. Then Sunny appeared like a ray of sunlight, breaking the still waters of his life. Of course, they remained "pure." Despite the romantic tension, they never crossed moral lines. That was where Araminta came in. As the wife, she quickly noticed her husband’s change. She played detective, found Sunny, and began a campaign of bullying and harassment. Her actions didn't hurt Sunny. Instead, they forced Preston to realize his true feelings. To that, I just wanted to say: "Good job, past me. Real smart." After I made a scene for the thousandth time, Preston grew to loathe me and demanded a divorce. The book-version of me refused. I went off the deep end and hired thugs to kidnap Sunny, intending to ruin her. That was the final straw. Preston used his corporate power to crush the Montgomery family, then gave me a taste of my own medicine by tossing me to the same street thugs I'd hired. I died silently in the gutter. Preston and Sunny lived happily ever after. They even had twins. Happy ending! Happy ending my ass! When I realized I was in this book, I had one goal: Protect my life, stay away from Preston Sterling! And I did exactly that... Until I was three. Before the age of three, I made my hatred for Preston clear. If I saw him, I cried. If he got close, I bit him. If I had milk in my mouth, I spit it on him. If I had a full bladder, I waited until he held me. Preston learned to dodge me on sight. I was relieved. I figured if I kept this up, we’d be strangers for life. But the "Plot" had other plans. On my 3rd birthday, pop. Something hit my brain. I completely forgot I was in a book. All that was left in my head was Preston Sterling’s gorgeous face. For the next 22 years, I became his #1 fangirl. I chased him everywhere. He seemed to tolerate it, never pushing me away. That fueled my delusion. We walked down the aisle. We entered the sanctuary of marriage. No, the tomb! Standing outside the villa now, I pinched my thigh so hard I nearly cried. Dammit. Beauty really is a trap. I walked back inside. The club sandwich and steaming coffee were still on the table. Untouched. Come to think of it, for the last four days, Preston had stopped eating the breakfast I made. His excuse: "It’s too early. I’m not hungry." I hadn't thought much of it. I kept making it anyway, thinking, Maybe he’ll be hungry today? What if he’s starving and there’s nothing to eat? But now, with my memory back, I knew the real reason. He wasn't "not hungry." He was saving room for the breakfast Sunny Vance brought him to the office. Sunny told him coffee on an empty stomach was bad. Sunny said sandwiches were too cold and "corporate." Sunny said, "I love bagels and lox, and I made some homemade oatmeal. Try it, Mr. Sterling!" Ache. I rubbed my chest. It actually hurt. What now? 2 Sitting at the table, eating the sandwich I’d made for him, I felt like I was chewing on cardboard. The universe really is a jerk. If I had remembered the book, I would never have chased him. Knowing he was destined to love someone else and still pinning for him? That’s just pathetic. If I had just "arrived" in this body this second, I’d file for divorce immediately and cut ties with him and his drama. But it’s been 22 years. I’ve "simped" for this man for 22 years. I really did love him. Preston was special to me. I always thought he loved me back. Maybe not as deeply as I loved him, but I thought I was the only one. The "unique" one. That’s why I was able to chase him for so long. And now the "Script" tells me he doesn't love me and has a soulmate? What’s the endgame? To kill me? The housekeeper opened the door and walked in. Seeing me, she asked, "Ma'am, what would you like for lunch? I’m going to the store." Something clicked. I stood up. "Maria, make some of Preston’s favorite dishes. I’m dropping lunch off at his office." "You got it." "Get it ready. I have to run an errand first." I drove my red sports car out of the driveway and headed straight to the hospital. My period was a week late. Usually, I wouldn't worry—I’ve never been regular. But with my memory back, I remembered a specific plot point. In the original story, Araminta had a baby, but she didn't know it. She went to the office to find Preston and saw Sunny tying his tie. Actually, it was innocent. Sunny had accidentally spilled coffee on him, and Preston—who had spent his life having Araminta tie his ties—didn't know how to do it himself. Sunny was just helping. But book-Araminta didn't know that. She went nuclear. She grabbed Sunny by the hair and raised her hand to strike. Preston didn't let her. He grabbed Araminta and shoved her away. That shove caused a miscarriage. The loss of the baby turned Araminta’s hatred for Sunny into an obsession. Preston felt a flicker of guilt, so he transferred Sunny out of the secretarial pool to another department. But that "separation" wasn't for Araminta’s sake. It was to make their "forbidden love" grow stronger. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. I drove steadily toward the clinic. Preston and I had been married for two years. We always used protection. We had a silent agreement not to rush into parenthood. I didn't know what he was thinking. For me, I just wanted a few more years of "us." I arrived at the hospital. Numbly, I registered at the OBGYN department. Then came the waiting, the doctor, the tests, the results. Two hours. My mind was a blank void for two hours. The doctor looked at the chart. "The results are in. You’re definitely pregnant." My heart gave a small tremor. I instinctively touched my stomach. A tiny life was actually in there. A child. Mine and Preston’s. It was an unexpected joy, but right now, all I felt was lost. "Do you plan on keeping the baby?" the doctor asked. I snapped my head up. Keeping it? What kind of question was that? But... it was a question. Because I hesitated. It wasn't until I reached the hospital exit that I snapped out of my daze. Looking at the crowds passing by, I took a deep breath and got into my car. 22 years of history. Two years of marriage. And now a baby. I wasn't going to let a "plot" sentence my life to death. Preston, please. Don't let me down. When I got home, Maria had the lunch packed. "It’s so rare to see a couple as in love as you two," she said, smiling. "It’s enough to make me jealous." In the past, I would have beamed with pride. Now, I couldn't even force the corners of my mouth to move. The drive to Sterling Corp took thirty minutes. I arrived exactly at noon. The receptionist knew me. No appointment needed. I took the private elevator straight to the 32nd floor. The first person I saw was Ethan, Preston’s executive assistant. The moment he saw me, his face stiffened. A flash of panic crossed his eyes before he smoothed it over. "Mrs. Sterling! What brings you here?" I gave a tight smile. "Where’s Preston?" "The CEO is in his office. Let me go tell him—" I grabbed his arm. "No need. I’ll surprise him." I didn't come here often, but I knew the way. I walked to the heavy double doors of the executive suite and pushed them open quietly. The office had beautiful lighting. At high noon, the sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass, bathing the room in warmth. In the glow of the light, I saw them. A man and a woman sitting at the desk. Between them were two cute, matching bento boxes. They were sitting incredibly close, eating and chatting. The girl said something, a bright smile on her face. The man looked up, listening intently. Maybe it was the sunlight, but the man looked exceptionally gentle. A kind of gentleness I had never seen from him before. Terrified that I was misreading the scene, I pulled out my phone and hit the camera app. Click! I "tsked" softly. Dammit, I forgot to silence the shutter. I ruined the moment. The two of them looked up, completely startled. For a few seconds, they just stared at me, frozen. Seeing that look on Preston’s face actually gave me a bit of pleasure. I couldn't help it. I let out a short laugh. Preston’s brows furrowed. He looked at me with a face that screamed "annoyed." Ah, Preston. You really know how to hurt a girl. Sunny Vance turned pale and jumped to her feet. She moved too fast, knocking over the container of soup. "Ah!" The hot liquid splashed onto her legs. She cried out in pain. Preston reacted instantly. He stood up and pulled her back away from the spill, his hands steady on her shoulders. I turned and walked away. I didn't want to see the rest. I’m a woman of dignity. I wasn't going to do something "untidy" like the version of me in the book. Ethan was standing behind me, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole. I shoved the lunch bag into his arms. "You eat it." Ethan looked terrified. I didn't leave the building. Instead, I walked over to the secretarial pool. As soon as I walked in, several secretaries stood up. They all knew who I was. "Which one of you is Sloane?" I asked. A woman with a sharp, glamorous look stood up, looking nervous. "That’s me, Mrs. Sterling. Is there something you need?" I pulled a business card from my bag and handed it to her. "I’m very interested in the 'files' you have. Call me." Sloane looked stunned. By the time I walked out of the secretarial bay, Preston was already standing there. I smoothed my expression and walked past him as if he were a ghost. He wasn't going to let me go that easily. He grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Let go," I said. Maybe my tone was too cold—I’d never spoken to him like that before. Preston’s grip tightened. "Ara, don't start." I took a long, slow breath. "Preston, let go. I don't want to talk to you right now. Don't be a jerk." Preston’s face darkened. His eyes were smoldering with frustration. I didn't back down. I looked him dead in the eye. Araminta Montgomery was never a "sweet" girl. I only acted that way because I loved him. Now, I realized there was no point. I wrenched my hand free and walked out of the building without looking back. 3 I didn't go home. I checked into a high-end hotel. Sloane didn't disappoint me. She contacted me within ninety minutes. In the original book, Sloane was a minor character—a bit of a "mean girl" who was very confident in her looks. That confidence made her arrogant. When Sunny Vance caught Preston’s eye, Sloane was consumed by jealousy. A woman’s intuition is a terrifying thing. Sloane was the first to realize there was something going on between Preston and the new girl. Driven by spite, she had documented every intimate, ambiguous moment between them. In the book, those photos eventually landed in Araminta’s hands and acted as the catalyst for her "villainous" breakdown. I wasn't interested in the breakdown. But I loved the evidence. I paid Sloane a generous "consulting fee" for everything she had. She was thorough. She didn't just have photos; she had videos. I spent nearly two hours staring at those files until my eyes burned and my stomach growled. I rubbed my temples. I didn't have an appetite, but thinking about the "little seed" in my belly, I ordered room service. Starving a baby felt like a form of domestic abuse. Just as I hung up with the kitchen, my phone rang. Preston. 7:27 PM. The exact time he usually walked through the front door. I didn't answer. I declined the call. He didn't call back. That was so Preston. After hanging up on him, I called my lawyer, Mr. Harrison. "Ms. Montgomery? How can I help you?" "I need you to draft a divorce settlement. I want it on my desk tomorrow morning." The line went silent. It felt like an eternity before he found his voice. "I... I’m sorry? Who is getting divorced?" I almost laughed. Did he think I was filing for someone else? "Me. Preston and me." This time, Harrison reacted quickly. "Understood. How are we handling the assets?" "I keep what’s mine. He keeps what’s his. I don’t want anything from our joint holdings." Preston and I both had our own family wealth, but our joint investments were massive. Dividing them properly would take months. "So... you’re walking away with nothing from the marriage?" ... I didn't like the phrase "walking away with nothing." "Fine. He keeps nothing from the joint assets. I take them all." Preston could afford it. He had that much pride, at least. "Got it. I’ll have the draft to you in an hour." Harrison was efficient. He sent the draft in thirty minutes. I was impressed. I hadn't even finished my dinner yet. I decided I’d give him a massive bonus at the end of the year. After dinner, I went down to the business center to print the settlement and the photos. As I opened the door to head back to the elevators, a shadow fell over me. I jumped, looking up. Preston. His brows were knit tight, his face grim. I let out a breath and glared at him. "You trying to give me a heart attack?" I wasn't surprised he found me. Preston was a man of immense responsibility. As long as I was "his responsibility," he wouldn't just leave me unaccounted for. "Why didn't you come home?" he asked, his voice low. "Since you're here, fine," I said. "Go inside. We need to talk." I made a move to leave. "Where are you going?" "To print some things." "I'll go with you." I pushed him back. "No. Wait here." Preston frowned, but he let me go. In the elevator, I let out a shaky breath. I looked at my trembling hands and hissed, "Get it together." When I got back to the room, Preston was sitting stiffly on the sofa. He was always like this—perfectly poised, like a machine without emotions. But after looking at those photos this afternoon, I knew better. I looked at him and looked away. The divorce papers were in duplicate. I signed my name and slid them across the coffee table toward him. Preston looked at the documents, and his entire body flinched. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Divorce? You want to divorce me?" I nodded. "Yes." Preston’s gaze was heavy. I met it calmly. He slammed the papers back onto the table. "Why?" I pulled out the printed photos and tossed them in front of him. The top photo showed him and Sunny standing on the rooftop, looking out at the city. The angle was perfect—it caught them looking into each other’s eyes, sharing a private smile. Preston flipped through the photos, one by one. His expression remained calm, his hand steady. I let out a dry laugh. Compared to my internal turmoil, his composure was insulting. "You’re stalking me?" He looked up, his eyes showing a flash of cold irritation. I laughed in his face. "So, your first reaction is to blame me? Classic Preston. You really have a talent for avoiding the point." "But let me clarify: I didn't stalk you. Someone else took these and I bought them. Does that work for you? Do you want to sue me for privacy violations? If so, go ahead. I’m ready." Preston’s brow deepened. "That’s not what I meant. Sunny and I have a strictly professional relationship. Nothing has happened. If you’re throwing a tantrum because of her, it’s unnecessary." "Ha!" I let out a sharp, cold bark of a laugh. "I know, I know. Nothing 'happened.' No hand-holding, no hugging, no kissing, no sleeping together." "But so what? Do you think I’m so pathetic that I have to wait until I’m caught in a public humiliation before I fight back?" "I’m sorry, but my standards are a little higher than that." Preston’s eyes turned icy. He stood up and stepped into my space. "Araminta, what are you doing? I told you there is nothing between us. What more do you want?" I stepped back, my jaw set. "Are you deaf? I want a divorce. I can’t live with a man who is a 'work in progress' toward cheating." Preston looked frustrated. He growled, "Araminta, stop this. Pack your things and come home. I’ll pretend this never happened." My temper flared. "Pretend it never happened? Why should I be the one pretending? You’re the one being shameless, and you’re trying to gaslight me? Divorce. Divorce. I want a divorce. Right now." "Shut up!" Preston raised his voice. It startled me. His eyes were burning with rage. "Araminta, don't say those words again. You’re not a child. You need to be responsible for what you say." That word triggered something in me. Responsible? How dare he use that word with me? Without thinking, I grabbed my purse and swung it at him. I lunged forward, grabbed one of the photos, and slapped it against his chest. It was the photo of him eating the bagel Sunny bought for him, holding a cup of juice. The date on the photo was the day before yesterday. "I wake up an hour early every morning to grind your coffee and make your sandwiches. I haven't slept in for years because I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I feed you the best food, and then some girl tosses you a scrap and you act like it’s a five-course meal. You ungrateful jerk." My chest heaved. I was shaking with fury. "You want to talk about responsibility, Preston? You aren't even worthy of the word." 4 That was probably the first time Preston had ever been spoken to like that. He looked like he wanted to throttle me. I didn't care. I felt a wave of relief. Preston stared at me for a long time. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "You’re sure about the divorce?" I shoved the papers and a pen at his face. My resolve was the only answer he needed. Preston’s expression shifted through a dozen emotions before he finally signed. He pressed so hard the pen nearly tore through the paper. He didn't even look at the terms. I raised an eyebrow. I suddenly felt like I’d lost out—if I’d known he wouldn't read it, I should have demanded more cash. Preston stood up, radiating fury, and stormed out of the room. "Bring your ID and the marriage license!" I yelled at his back. "I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow morning!" He paused for a split second, then kept walking. "So rude," I muttered. The next morning, I woke up as soon as the sun hit the window. 6:00 AM. The time made me angry. Years of routine had wired my biological clock. No alarm, no wake-up call—I just woke up. It was another reminder that I’d wasted my best years on a dog. Preston Sterling, you dog! I pulled the covers over my head, trying to go back to sleep, but it was useless. I spent an hour tossing and turning before finally dragging myself out of bed. After a quick breakfast and packing my bags, I headed to the courthouse. I waited for Preston. I waited for two hours. My patience evaporated. He never showed. I was fuming. Preston Sterling, you absolute dog!! I drove straight to his office. Ethan looked like a nervous wreck when he saw me. "Mrs. Sterling, the CEO is in a meeting. Would you like to wait in his office?" I didn't argue. I marched straight in. I hadn't been sitting for five minutes before there was a knock, and Sunny Vance tiptoed in. She was exactly the "sweetheart" type. Her features weren't breathtaking, but everything about her was soft and pleasing to the eye. The ultimate "damsel" aesthetic. I could see why a man would want to protect her. "Ma'am, here is your coffee." Ma'am? I tilted my head. "You don't know who I am?" Sunny opened her big, watery eyes. "You’re Mr. Sterling’s wife." I smiled. "Oh, so you do know. That’s interesting. Everyone in this building calls me Mrs. Sterling, but you call me 'ma'am.' Why is that? Do you have a problem acknowledging my status as his wife?" Sunny panicked and started waving her hands, forgetting she was holding a cup of hot coffee. Splash. The scalding liquid poured over her hand. She shrieked in pain, her face turning white. I stood up slowly and grabbed Preston’s blazer, which was draped over his chair, and wiped my hands with it. "Soup yesterday, coffee today. Is your life themed around liquids?" "With how clumsy you are, you would have been fired ten times over at my company. Preston must really love you to keep you around. How romantic." Sunny looked like I’d slapped her. She glared at me with "brave" eyes. "Ms. Montgomery, Mr. Sterling and I have a strictly professional relationship. I admit I was clumsy today, but there is nothing inappropriate between us. Please don't slander me." I tossed Preston’s blazer onto the floor like a piece of trash. "Professional? Let me tell you what professional looks like. Every other secretary in this building keeps at least an arm's length from Preston. They don't bring him breakfast. They don't make him lunch. They don't sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him to eat." "And look at you. Every woman in this department wears a professional suit, heels, and a full face of makeup. You’re in a hoodie and sneakers with a bare face. What, is there a special dress code just for you? Or are you just special?" Sunny’s face went through several shades of red and white. She opened her mouth to argue, but I looked past her. "Did you catch all that, Preston?" Sunny spun around. The moment she saw Preston, she immediately put on a look of "strong but wounded." "Mr. Sterling..." Preston looked furious as he walked toward her. Sunny looked at him with pleading eyes. But he didn't even look at her. He walked straight to me. He grabbed my hand. "What happened?" Only then did I feel the stinging pain. I looked down and saw a red splotch on the back of my hand where the coffee had splashed. Seeing him act so concerned made me feel exhausted. I pulled my hand away. "None of your business." Preston’s face darkened. "What the hell happened here?" Sunny bit her lip, tears brimming in her eyes. "Mr. Sterling, it was my fault. I accidentally spilled the coffee." Preston finally looked at Sunny’s trembling, red hand. He frowned. "Fine. Go get that taken care of." "Ethan, go buy some burn cream." "Yes, sir. Right away." Sunny gave Preston one last look before turning and hurrying out of the room. I let out a soft snort. "Bravo. A regular Romeo and Juliet scene. Am I the evil villain keeping you apart?" Preston glared at me. "Araminta, making a scene at the hotel wasn't enough? You have to bring it to the office too?" Despite my preparation, his words still felt like a knife. I looked at him blankly. "What, are you heartbroken because I bullied your little girlfriend? Too bad. I’m still Mrs. Sterling, which means I have every right to put a 'pick-me' girl in her place." "If you're so worried about her, you shouldn't have stood me up. I waited at the courthouse for two hours. Where were you? No show, no call. Do you think only your time is valuable? Everyone's time is money, Preston. Be a man for once." Preston’s face grew darker. "The courthouse? Why were you at the courthouse?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Why? To go sightseeing? No! For the divorce!" "Did you think we signed those papers yesterday for fun?" That finally seemed to get through to him. I felt dizzy, my vision blurring as my knees began to buckle. "Ara." Preston caught me. I slumped into his arms, shaking my head. The vertigo passed as quickly as it came. But the scent of his cologne—the scent I used to love—made me want to vomit. I pushed him away and gagged. "Ara." He tried to step forward, but I barked, "Stay back! Don't touch me. You make me sick." Preston froze. After a long silence, he growled, "Are you done? What is this really about?" I felt a surge of overwhelming emotion—probably the pregnancy. I looked at him with burning eyes. "Divorce. I want a divorce. Now. Immediately." Preston had been looking at me with fire in his eyes, but when I turned to face him, he froze. He stared at me, then slowly stepped closer and reached out. He touched my face. I jerked away. He looked lost. "You’re crying." I froze. I hadn't realized I was crying. How embarrassing. He said, "Araminta, we need to talk."
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