I Became the Villainess in My Own Novel

The airtight room was shrouded in darkness. It was so black that not even a hand held before one's face could be seen. Lucas Rothwell sat silently, his expression unreadable as he watched the girl crawling toward him. Step by step, she dragged herself across the cold floor until she reached his feet. Ashley Hawthorne had once possessed a face of pure, flawless beauty. Now tears clung to her lashes. The moment she saw the man before her, fresh despair filled her eyes. Her clothes, unchanged for days, had become filthy and wrinkled. Kneeling on the ground, her eyes red and swollen, she looked nothing like the proud young woman she had once been. Fear and panic had completely replaced the confidence she used to carry. A faint smile curved Lucas's lips. He was clearly satisfied with the sight before him. He nudged her lightly with the tip of his shoe, as though teasing a dog. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." His voice was low and magnetic, carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. Humiliation burned through Ashley. But she had been locked in this basement for so many days and nights that she had lost count. Her mind had long since begun to unravel. She trembled violently, tangled hair spilling over her shoulders. After being trapped in darkness for so long, anyone who appeared before her now seemed like a lifeline. Without hesitation, she grabbed the leg of Lucas's trousers. Yet even as she clung to him, her stubborn pride refused to die. "Lucas Rothwell!" She burst into desperate sobs. "Let me out! This is illegal! Do you know that?" "I—I..." "I'm the second daughter of the Hawthorne family!" Her voice cracked. "If you let me go right now, I can forgive everything you've done to me!" She never should have provoked this madman. At last, Lucas crouched down in front of her. Ashley watched the movement hopefully. For a brief moment, she thought her words had worked. Her eyes filled with anticipation. Then she noticed the knife in his right hand. A sharp, gleaming blade. Her blood froze. The knife slid slowly downward beside her ear. Its icy edge brushed close enough to raise goosebumps across her skin. Lower. Lower. Until it stopped beneath her chin. Ashley's confidence shattered instantly. "Lu-Lucas..." "I was wrong." "I shouldn't have treated you like that before." "Please." "Please let me go." Tears streamed down her face. "From the beginning, I should never have hired people to kill you." "Lucas... I'm sorry. I really am." He leaned closer. His voice brushed against her ear. Soft. Almost gentle. Yet every word felt like a demon whispering directly into her soul. "Let you go?" Ashley nodded frantically. She tried to pull away from the knife while looking up at him. But the room was too dark. She couldn't see his face. She could only feel his gaze fixed on her. "Alright." Lucas laughed quietly. Relief flooded through her body. Her shoulders relaxed. The corner of her mouth had barely begun to lift— The knife plunged directly into her heart. The blade twisted inside her chest. Again. And again. Blood erupted instantly. Ashley Hawthorne's eyes widened. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her gaze filled with resentment, regret, and an unwillingness to accept her fate. — A small nightlight glowed softly in the room. Ashley Hart sat in front of her computer. After carefully reviewing the chapter she had just finished, she finally nodded in satisfaction and clicked Publish. She had spent the entire night writing. But at last, the vicious villainess in her novel was dead. Ashley Hawthorne had committed countless crimes throughout the story. When Lucas Rothwell had been poor, powerless, and abandoned by everyone around him, she had repeatedly hired people to humiliate and torment him. More than once, Lucas had nearly lost his life because of her. Naturally, her ending had been death at the hands of the novel's male lead. Ashley Hart stared at the villainess's name on the screen. Ashley Hawthorne. For some reason, a chill crept down her spine. When she had first started writing the novel, she had accidentally used her own first name. By the time she realized it and wanted to change it, the story had already exploded in popularity. Millions of readers knew the character by that name. Changing it would only cause confusion. In the end, she had left it alone. She stretched her sore shoulders and leaned back in her chair. The clock in the corner of her screen read 4:57 a.m. Outside the window, the city was still asleep. Her comment section, however, was already exploding. Readers had been waiting months for Ashley Hawthorne's downfall. Now they finally had it. Ashley finally collapsed onto her bed. Exhaustion washed over her. Almost instantly, she fell asleep. — "Ashley!" "Ashley!" "Aren't we supposed to go teach Lucas Rothwell a lesson today?" "How are you the one passing out first?!"