I woke up as the stepmother to the heroine of a trashy forced-love webnovel. Staring at the male lead—a walking felony—and the drugged-and-baited plotline unfolding before me, my mind went blank. Was the author allergic to the law? It’s the 21st century. Who still writes this kind of coercive garbage? Right now, the story was just beginning. My new stepdaughter, Vivian, was a beautiful, tragic mess, while the male lead, Liam—fresh off an attempted assault—wore a smug smirk that screamed, You can’t escape me. I was about to call the cops, but I stopped myself. No. Following this trashy novel’s logic, the police would just show up and tell us to play nice. Seeing Vivian’s trembling shoulders, a much more permanent solution sparked in my mind. I smiled and pressed a pair of sharp shears into her hand. “Don’t be scared, honey. Mom’s about to teach you the oldest form of revenge in the book.” “Go on. Castrate the bastard. Let’s see what he uses to commit crimes then.” 1. The dean’s office fell into a dead silence. Everyone was stunned, frozen in place by my words. Vivian’s eyes widened in disbelief, her lips parting as if to object. “…Isn’t that a bit much…?” “What’s wrong with it? It’s not like we can’t afford the legal fees.” I shot a dismissive glance at Liam, my tone casual. The words seemed to sting the teenage boy’s pride, but I wasn’t done. I decided to pour a little gasoline on the fire. “Don’t worry about the money. Your father just acquired Liam’s family company. Our net worth just doubled, sweetie.” That was the last straw for Liam. He turned, his eyes red with humiliation, and bolted from the room. Hah. We’re just getting started and he’s already crying? In the novel, Vivian’s father was a titan of industry. After he acquired the floundering Thorne Corporation, Liam’s family was ruined overnight, and Liam blamed Vivian for it all. He and his little gang of delinquents had planned to corner her in the girls’ bathroom and strip her naked, a plot that was only foiled by a passing classmate. “What was it you were saying earlier? ‘No smoke without fire’?” I cornered the dean, my voice dripping with ice. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Teenagers… they horse around. It’s normal…” “How about we lock your daughter in a room with this little punk and let them ‘horse around’ for a while?” I raised an eyebrow. The dean, who had been so eager to smooth things over, immediately fell silent. Because he did, in fact, have a daughter. 2. The farce ended with the expulsion of Liam and his cronies. This was the one advantage of being the heroine of a dark romance—she had the backing of the immensely powerful and wealthy Sterling family. Sure, in the original story, all that wealth just ended up being a stepping stone for the male lead, but for now, the Sterlings were untouchable in this city. Dealing with a few spoiled brats was laughably simple. A single, quiet word from me was all it took for the dean’s office to issue the expulsion notices at lightning speed. “Mom… thank you for helping me.” Vivian gently tugged on my hand. The sweet, fragile girl tilted her pale face up at me, teardrops still clinging to her lashes. Her eyes were filled with a hesitant, hopeful curiosity. That look sent a tremor through my heart, and my voice softened instinctively. “Silly girl. It’s a mother’s duty to protect her daughter, isn’t it?” Truthfully, when I first woke up in this world, I felt no connection to this ready-made daughter. I only intervened because of the original plot. After Vivian was brutalized by the various male leads, her father blamed me, his stepwife, for being negligent. Ignoring the law entirely, he had me dismembered and fed to the dogs. So, until I could find a way back to my own world, my first priority was staying alive. Which meant taking care of Vivian. But after spending these past few days with her, seeing this girl who was so heartbreakingly gentle and good, I couldn't remain a detached observer any longer. And so, a new item was added to my daily agenda: Keep an eye on the hormone-addled little monsters whose every waking thought revolved around forcing themselves on my daughter. And if necessary, confiscate their ‘tools of the trade.’ 3. After a scene like that, school was out of the question for a while. I decided to take Vivian straight home. As we settled into the car, I noticed her school uniform was so old it had faded. I frowned. This was a private academy; uniforms weren’t mandatory. The campus was full of girls dressed in the latest fashions. But Vivian wore this same old uniform, day in and day out. I understood why. Her whole life, she had attracted unwanted male attention, and so she deliberately avoided anything that might make her stand out. But I refused to accept that retreat. “Come here.” I gently pulled Vivian closer. Her body was frail, almost bird-like. She looked malnourished. The damned novel, in its quest to make the heroine "delicate and easily overpowered," had made the poor girl far too thin. “Change of plans,” I told the driver. “Take us to the Grandview Plaza.” Vivian looked at me, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. “Mom, what are we doing there?” “Buying you some new clothes.” I saw her avoid my gaze and took her hand in mine. “You can’t wear that old uniform forever.” Half an hour later, we were in a high-end boutique. Vivian stared at the racks of colorful dresses, a clear longing in her eyes, but she didn’t dare touch a thing. “Try this one.” I took a daffodil-yellow dress from the rack. The collar was adorned with tiny, delicate pearls. She hesitated before taking it and followed the sales associate to the fitting room. When she emerged, shy and uncertain, I couldn't help but smile. The warm color beautifully complemented her fair skin, and the cut was elegant and classic. But Vivian kept tugging at the hem, her eyes darting around nervously. “It’s too bright… Won’t it attract too much attention?” she whispered. I walked to her side, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “It’s beautiful, Vivian. You deserve all the beautiful things in the world.” “But…” She looked down. “The boys… they always say such awful things…” “Then let them talk.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, making her look at our reflection. “Look. There is nothing wrong with this dress. It is beautiful. The problem is with the people who look at you with filth in their eyes.” Vivian stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes turning red. Suddenly, she spun around and threw her arms around me, her voice choked with sobs. “Mom, I’m scared… I never know what to do…” Feeling her thin frame tremble in my arms, I stroked her hair, a new resolve hardening within me. “Don’t be afraid,” I said softly. “Mom will teach you how to protect yourself.” The next day, I took her to the best combat training gym in the city. If this world was determined to be cruel, then I would teach my daughter how to fight back, beautifully. 4. Things, however, didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. Three times a week, I personally accompanied Vivian to the gym. What started as a way to protect her soon became our special time together. “Mom, am I just stupid?” After her first class, Vivian looked down at the bruises on her knees, her voice heavy with disappointment. The instructor pulled me aside. “Mrs. Sterling, this is really tough for a girl like her. Have you considered something else for Vivian? Dance, or piano, wouldn't that be more suitable?” Dance? Piano? What good were those? They were just different settings for the male leads to assault her in. I gently applied ointment to her bruises. “Who ever said you have to learn things quickly? We’ll take our time.” I sat on the sidelines during her sessions, watching her fall and get back up, again and again. The instructor, a man named Coach Zhang, kept trying to change my mind. “I’ve been teaching for ten years, and this is the least talented kid I’ve ever seen. She trips over her own feet, her skin bruises if you look at it wrong, and her body is so soft it’s like she doesn’t have bones. At this rate, she’ll never build any muscle tone.” But, mindful of the Sterling family’s wealth, he phrased his suggestion delicately. “Perhaps another hobby would be more… fitting?” I just smiled and handed Vivian a towel and a bottle of water. “As long as she enjoys it.” By the third week, Vivian finally mastered a complete defensive maneuver. She was so happy that night she even linked her arm through mine on the way home. The real change happened in the fourth week. Coach Zhang ran up to me, his face alight with excitement. “Incredible! She’s a natural! No matter how hard I train her, she’s completely recovered by the next day! Her flexibility is off the charts, and her pain tolerance is unreal! This girl is a prodigy!” I had a pretty good idea why. The damned webnovel’s ridiculous heroine-centric logic was finally doing something useful. But for me, the most important thing wasn’t how many moves she learned, but the fact that the light in her eyes shone brighter every day. On the morning of the thirty-third day, I opened her bedroom door and found her standing in front of the mirror, wearing the daffodil-yellow dress we had bought together. “Mom,” she said, turning around with a smile I hadn’t seen in years. “I want to wear this to school today.” In that moment, I knew something had fundamentally changed. But I felt a mix of pride and worry, so I decided to discreetly follow her in my car. And sure enough, getting rid of Liam just meant a new problem would pop up. Just outside the school gates, Male Lead Number Two appeared: John Tank. The Tank family was second only to the Sterlings. John and Vivian had known each other since childhood; they were the classic “childhood friends” trope. When I first read the book, I had even rooted for this “guiding” romance. But seeing it in person, I realized that his “guidance” was just carefully packaged manipulation. All his talk of, “You’re only getting stared at because you dress so flamboyantly,” and “Good girls are more modest…” That kind of rhetoric was probably the real root of Vivian’s chronic lack of confidence. Just as I was thinking this, John walked up to Vivian. 5. John’s brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed on her bright dress. His tone was laced with an undeniable reprimand. “Vivian, why are you wearing something like this again? It’s too flashy. It’s not for you.” The old Vivian would have immediately bowed her head in shame and mumbled an apology. But today, she just looked at him, her spine straight. “John, what I wear is my business.” John was clearly taken aback by her defiance. He paused, then his voice grew harsher. “I’m just looking out for you. Have you forgotten how all your previous troubles started? Dressing like this will only attract more of the wrong kind of attention.” A small crowd of students began to gather, whispering among themselves. “How dare she talk back to John like that…” “Well, he’s not wrong. That dress is a little revealing…” “She only wears those clothes to seduce guys, anyway…” Hearing the murmurs, a flicker of certainty crossed John’s face, as if public opinion was naturally on his side. But Vivian took a deep breath and turned to face the whispering crowd. “Is it my fault that I attract attention? Who is the real source of the trouble? The people with malicious thoughts, or me, for simply wearing a dress?” “If wearing something beautiful is a sin, then that’s a belief I refuse to accept.” John’s face darkened. “Vivian, you’re being childish. Everyone is just saying this because they don’t want you to get hurt. Now, apologize to everyone.” “The real hurt,” Vivian’s voice was quiet but unshakably firm, “comes from people close to me, who criticize and police me under the guise of ‘looking out for me.’ You make me feel like my very existence is a mistake.” She paused, then said, word by word, “John, please stop trying to manipulate me. I don’t need it.” I stood in the shade of a nearby tree, watching my daughter stand her ground against a tide of judgment, and a wave of pride and warmth washed over me. My little girl was all grown up. But John’s expression had turned thunderous. Vivian’s public refusal had humiliated him. He took a step forward, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “Vivian, do you have to be like this? Look at yourself, what have you become?” The whispers from the crowd only fueled his anger. “What’s wrong with her? John’s just trying to help.” “Seriously, so ungrateful.” Believing he still had the crowd on his side, John grew bolder. He lunged forward and grabbed Vivian’s slender wrist, his other hand reaching for the shoulder strap of her dress in a shockingly aggressive move. “Let go of me!” Vivian warned, struggling to break free. “I’m going to make you see sense today! These slutty clothes don’t suit you at all!” Humiliated and enraged, John didn't let go. He pulled harder, clearly intending to rip her dress off in front of everyone. And not a single person in the crowd moved to stop him. In fact, some were praising him for his “sincere concern.” This goddamn novel and its twisted logic. I pushed my car door open, ready to intervene. John was still spewing venom. “It must be that new stepmother of yours. I knew a social-climbing slut like her would be a bad influence—” “Shut your mouth!” In a flash, Vivian’s eyes sharpened. Her body sank slightly. Using his grip as leverage, she twisted, her hips and core engaged— And executed a clean, sharp shoulder throw.
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