I died because I forgot to eat. One minute I was reading my favorite book for the hundredth time, the next I'm waking up as Danielle McKinney — the pathetic side character who's supposed to die in chapter three. And standing in front of me? Glenn Lightwood. The cold, dangerous man I've been crushing on across a thousand pages. He doesn't know I've read our story. He doesn't know I know how this ends. He just knows I walked up to him and offered to help destroy his brother. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. So I made a deal with the villain's brother. I help him win. He keeps me alive. Simple, right? Except he watches me like he's undressing me with his eyes. Except his hands linger when no one's looking. Except I'm starting to forget this is supposed to be fake. And reader? If you think I'm going to sit back and let the plot kill me twice — you clearly haven't been paying attention. 😏 I'm rewriting this story. And I'm taking the hot, brooding heir with me. He thinks he's using me. He has no idea he's about to fall in love. 🔥

You're expecting a redemption story? don't. Everyone thinks getting married to a billionaire means heaven on earth, but nobody knew how my golden cage felt. I watched our golden matrimonial thread begin to fray—My husband changed completely after our third year. Cold sheets, empty nights, and a mistress he didn't bother to hide. My desire is a starving bitch! She led me to find warmth where I shouldn't— hands that wrecked me with addicting climaxes that burned away my loneliness, and things I'd never admit aloud—just to feel like a woman again. Secrets began piling, then came the coma and the begging. And I realized hate would've meant he still mattered. I felt nothing. He handed me a gold necklace, but I handed him papers, and left him a golden retriever. This isn't a love story. It's goodbye.