The rain hammered mercilessly against the taxi windows as Ishani Rao, a 21-year-old literature student, hugged her bag to her chest. Her earbuds buzzed with the storm outside, but her mind wasn’t on the thunder—it was on the story she had just finished reading.

Chains of Desire.

She had devoured that web novel countless times. The gentle heroine who never gave up, the cold Duke who ruled with iron, and the doomed villainess bride who dared to mock fate. Every time, the villainess—Lady Seraphina Valente—met a gruesome end. Dragged in chains through the execution square, her pride stripped, her laughter silenced forever.

And every time, Ishani’s heart ached.

“If I were her,” she muttered under her breath, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, “I’d fight harder. I’d never let him kill me so easily.”

The cab jerked. Tires screeched. A blinding light flooded the windshield.

Crash.

Her breath caught in her throat. Then—nothing.

The sharp scent of roses and wax invaded her senses. Ishani’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred by dancing candle flames. She sat upright with a gasp—only to freeze.

She wasn’t in a taxi.

A vast chamber stretched before her, draped in crimson and gold. A canopy bed surrounded her, its curtains embroidered with roses. A gilded mirror reflected her image.

Except…it wasn’t her.

Her brown hoodie and worn jeans were gone. Instead, she wore a wedding gown fit for royalty—white satin layered with lace, jewels glittering under the candlelight. Her face in the mirror was sharper, her lips crimson, her eyes darker and more piercing than she’d ever seen in her own reflection.

Her trembling hand touched the glass. “This… this isn’t me.”

The door slammed open.

A gust of cold air swept inside, making the candles flicker violently. A tall figure entered—broad-shouldered, dressed in black military attire with silver embroidery. His boots echoed against the marble floor.

Duke Lucian Ravencourt.

The tyrant himself. The man Ishani had read about a hundred times. The cruel husband of Seraphina Valente. The man who would one day send her to her death.

Her blood ran cold.

“You dare keep me waiting on our wedding night?” His voice was low, sharp as a blade, dripping with venom.

Wedding night?

A searing pain stabbed through her skull. Images not her own flashed before her eyes—mocking laughter, arrogant glares, noblemen whispering behind fans, and the name whispered with hatred in every memory.

Lady Seraphina Valente.

Her knees buckled. No… no, this couldn’t be real. She wasn’t Seraphina. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was Ishani Rao. A normal girl. A nobody.

“I—this isn’t possible,” she gasped. Her heart pounded like a drum as she staggered back.

Lucian’s gaze narrowed. His silver eyes, colder than a snowstorm, locked on her like shackles. His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, deliberate and threatening, as if testing her courage.

“What’s wrong, wife?” His tone was icy calm, each word dipped in mockery. “Lost your nerve already?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

The villainess’s memories bled into her mind—Seraphina sneering at maids, humiliating servants, slapping the heroine at the banquet. No wonder everyone despised her. No wonder she had been destined for the execution square.

Ishani clutched her chest. If I act like her… I’m dead. He’ll kill me without hesitation.

Lucian took a step closer, the floor trembling beneath his boots. The glow of the candles carved sharp shadows across his jawline, his expression unreadable yet suffocating.

She blurted the only truth in her heart.

“I… I don’t want to die.”

The words hung in the air, trembling, vulnerable.

For the first time, something shifted in Lucian’s expression. His silver eyes flickered—not with warmth, but with curiosity. The mask of cold indifference cracked, ever so slightly.

“You sound different tonight,” he murmured. His voice wasn’t mocking this time. It was calculating. Dangerous.

Ishani’s breath hitched. Had she just made a mistake? Or had she accidentally intrigued the man known for his merciless cruelty?

Her legs wobbled, but she straightened her back, forcing herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t cower—not now, not if she wanted to live.

The air between them grew heavy, as if the world itself waited for her next move.

Should she play the part of the villainess, cruel and arrogant, the way Seraphina had always been? Or should she gamble, act differently, and hope Lucian’s curiosity would buy her time?

Her mind screamed, Survive. Whatever it takes. Survive.

Lucian’s boots clicked against the marble as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just an arm’s length away, his towering frame casting her in shadow. His hand rose—slowly, deliberately—and brushed against her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze.

“Tell me, wife,” he said, his tone soft but menacing, “what game are you playing tonight?”

Her pulse thundered. She could feel the weight of his power, his control. Every breath, every second stretched like eternity.

This wasn’t a novel anymore. This was her life. And if she wasn’t careful, her story would end exactly like Seraphina’s—blood on the cobblestones, laughter silenced forever.

But Ishani Rao was not Seraphina Valente.

And she refused to die so easily.

Her lips quivered, but her voice—shaky as it was—found its way out.

“I’m not your enemy,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

The flicker in his eyes deepened. For the first time, the Duke looked at her not as prey, not as a nuisance—but as a puzzle. A puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve.

The silence was deafening.

Then, Lucian’s lips curved ever so slightly, though not in kindness. “Interesting,” he said. “Very interesting.”

The air thickened. The storm outside raged louder, lightning flashing against the windows. Ishani’s heart raced as the terrifying truth sank in.

She was trapped in the villainess’s body. The death sentence had already begun ticking. And the cruel Duke standing before her had just realized something about his bride was different.

Would that curiosity save her… or destroy her?

Only time would tell.

The storm outside roared, lightning flashing against the high windows of the Duke’s manor. The room seemed darker now, the weight of Lucian Ravencourt’s silver gaze pinning Ishani in place.

Her words still lingered in the air. I’m not your enemy. Not anymore.

The real Seraphina Valente would have scoffed, thrown her head back with mocking laughter, and spat venom at him just to prove her arrogance. But Ishani Rao, trapped in the villainess’s body, had no such luxury.

She needed to survive. And survival meant change.

Lucian’s hand still tilted her chin upward. His touch wasn’t gentle—it was a test, a reminder that at any moment he could end her.

“You speak strangely, wife,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I wonder if you think I’m fool enough to believe you.”

His thumb brushed against her jawline, not tender but calculating.

Ishani’s throat dried. Every instinct screamed at her to pull back. But she forced herself to hold still, to meet his gaze with trembling determination.

“If you wish to kill me, you can,” she said softly, her voice shaking but steady enough to be heard. “But what would that earn you, my lord? Nothing but blood on your floor. A wife who is obedient… could serve you better.”

Silence.

The words tasted bitter. Obedient? She wanted to gag at the word. But if playing meek kept her alive one more day, so be it.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. Then, he released her chin and stepped back.

“Obedient?” His laugh was low, humorless. “Seraphina Valente, the serpent of high society, speaking of obedience? Now I am certain—tonight, you are different.”

His boots echoed as he turned, striding toward the window. The storm’s light carved his silhouette sharp against the glass.

Ishani let out a shaky breath, her chest heaving. He hadn’t killed her. Not yet.

Her mind raced. I need to act carefully. If I push too far, he’ll see through me. If I act too much like Seraphina, I’ll die like her. I need a balance. I need him to hesitate.

When Lucian turned back, his gaze sharpened. “If you truly wish to prove you are not my enemy, wife, you’ll have to do better than trembling words.”

His words pierced through her. He wasn’t wrong. In this world, words alone wouldn’t save her. Actions would.

Swallowing her fear, Ishani lowered her eyes—a gesture the real Seraphina would never have given. “Then tell me, my lord. What is it you expect of me?”

The silence stretched. She could feel his surprise, though he masked it quickly.

Finally, Lucian’s lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. “Very well. Tomorrow, you will accompany me to the council meeting. You will sit beside me, silent, composed, and you will not disgrace me. If you fail…”

His voice trailed off, the implication clear.

Ishani’s pulse quickened. The council? Nobles? Politics? She didn’t know the rules of this world beyond what she had read. If she slipped up, one wrong word, she’d be devoured.

But she nodded anyway. “As you command.”

Lucian tilted his head, his eyes glinting. “Obedient indeed. I almost want to see how long this act lasts.”

He brushed past her, the faintest scent of steel and leather lingering in the air. At the doorway, he paused.

“One more thing, wife.”

Ishani stiffened.

“If this is a game you’re playing, if you think to manipulate me… remember this.” His voice turned razor-sharp. “Snakes can be skinned alive before they ever bare their fangs.”

The door shut behind him.

Ishani collapsed onto the bed, her legs finally giving way. Her hands shook violently, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Her heart screamed: I survived. I survived tonight.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow, she would face the Duke’s world. Nobles who despised Seraphina. A council of men ready to sneer at her downfall. And at her side, a husband who watched her like a predator studying prey.

She pressed her palms to her face, tears stinging her eyes. “Ishani Rao, what have you done? You wanted to change her fate… now you might die even sooner.”

But even as fear gnawed at her chest, a spark flickered deep inside.

She remembered the countless times she had cried reading Chains of Desire, wishing the villainess had fought harder, been smarter.

This is my chance. My only chance. If I can play this role better… maybe I can rewrite the ending.

Her lips curved into a shaky, determined smile.

“Fine, Duke Lucian Ravencourt,” she whispered into the silence. “If it’s a game you want, I’ll play. But I’ll play my way.”

The storm outside began to fade, the patter of rain softening against the windows. Ishani lay back on the bed, clutching the silk sheets as if they were a lifeline.

Sleep didn’t come easily. Memories of Seraphina’s cruelty whispered at the edges of her mind—how she had humiliated servants, sabotaged the heroine, and scorned the Duke himself. Every memory was a trap waiting to pull Ishani into the same fate.

But Ishani Rao wasn’t Seraphina Valente. She wouldn’t repeat those mistakes. She couldn’t.

As dawn crept into the sky, her eyes fluttered open. Today would be her first true test.

Morning arrived with a knock at her chamber door. A maid entered, her expression stiff and wary.

“Good morning, my lady,” the maid said, bowing shallowly. Her tone carried no warmth, only fear mixed with resentment.

Ishani’s chest tightened. The real Seraphina would have slapped the girl for not bowing low enough. But Ishani forced a gentle tone.

“You may rise.”

The maid’s eyes widened, confusion flickering across her face.

Ishani offered a small smile. “Prepare me for the council meeting. I… want to look my best.”

The maid bowed again, clearly unsettled, before hurrying to fetch gowns and jewels.

Ishani touched her reflection in the mirror once more. The villainess’s face stared back—beautiful, sharp, terrifying.

She whispered to herself, “From today… Seraphina Valente will no longer be the villainess everyone despises. If I’m to survive, I’ll change her story.”

But as the heavy doors of the council chamber loomed closer in her imagination, her heart pounded with dread.

Because change was dangerous.

And in the world of the cruel Duke, one mistake could still mean death.

The storm had passed, but Ishani’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since last night.

When the maid finished tightening the laces of her crimson gown, Ishani caught her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was stunning, commanding—hair pinned high, ruby lips gleaming, emerald eyes lined sharp.

Lady Seraphina Valente.

The villainess.

Ishani’s pulse raced. No, not the villainess anymore. I’m rewriting her fate.

But would the Duke believe her act long enough to let her live?

A sharp knock rattled the chamber door.

Before she could respond, the door swung open and in walked Lucian Ravencourt himself.

He was dressed for the day, his black uniform fitted perfectly against his tall, broad frame, silver trim glinting in the light. His silver eyes swept over her slowly, deliberately, as if weighing every inch of her.

Ishani stiffened, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

“You look different,” Lucian said at last, his voice calm, almost… curious. “Less venom. More restraint.”

Her hands clenched in her lap. The real Seraphina would have snapped back with arrogance, maybe tossed an insult to hide her vulnerability. But Ishani forced a small, measured smile.

“Perhaps I’ve grown tired of being everyone’s enemy,” she said quietly.

Lucian arched an eyebrow, stepping closer. The click of his boots against the marble made her chest tighten.

“And yet,” he murmured, stopping just before her chair, “you’re still dangerous. A serpent that pretends to shed its fangs is often the deadliest of all.”

His hand suddenly pressed against the armrest of her chair, caging her in. His scent—steel, leather, faint cologne—wrapped around her, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

Her breath hitched. Too close.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, studying her face, searching for cracks in her act.

“Tell me, wife,” he said softly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “Are you truly trying to change… or is this just another one of your games?”

Ishani’s heart thundered. His proximity set every nerve on fire, but the threat in his voice was just as sharp.

If she hesitated now, he would see through her.

She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. “Does it matter if it’s a game, my lord… if you enjoy playing it?”

For a moment, silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Then—his lips curved. Not warmly, but with faint amusement.

“Clever,” he murmured. His hand lingered near hers, almost brushing her fingers. She froze, afraid to move, afraid to break the fragile thread of curiosity she had spun.

But then he pulled back suddenly, straightening to his full height.

“Be ready. The council awaits.” His tone was sharp again, though not as venomous as before.

As he turned toward the door, Ishani exhaled shakily, her hands trembling in her lap. What was that? Was he testing me—or… something else?

She couldn’t deny the truth. The closeness of his body, the way his silver eyes had lingered on her lips—it had stirred something inside her she hadn’t expected.

But she quickly shoved the thought away. No. Romance with the man who killed Seraphina? Impossible. Dangerous. Fatal.

And yet… why had her heart skipped a beat?

As they left her chambers, Lucian walked beside her, his long strides purposeful. Ishani struggled to keep her composure. Every passing servant bowed, their eyes wide with curiosity—and fear.

They must have expected Seraphina’s usual arrogance, her cruel remarks. Instead, Ishani gave them a polite nod. The whispers followed immediately.

“Did you see that? She didn’t scold us…”

“She even smiled.”

“Something’s wrong. That’s not like Lady Seraphina at all.”

Lucian’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp and calculating. Ishani forced her lips into a small, calm smile, as though their whispers didn’t matter.

Inside, however, her thoughts raced. Good. Let them whisper. If they see change, maybe they’ll hesitate to hate me so openly.

Still, Lucian’s scrutiny burned against her skin. He noticed everything. He missed nothing.

When they reached the grand staircase, Lucian stopped abruptly. Ishani nearly stumbled into him, her hand instinctively brushing against his arm for balance.

His muscles tensed beneath her touch.

Her eyes shot up to his, startled. For the briefest second, their gazes locked—hers wide and nervous, his steady, intense.

The world seemed to freeze. The space between them shrank, her hand still lingering against his sleeve.

“Careful,” he said at last, his voice low. “A single misstep in this house could mean your fall.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse skipping. Was that a warning… or something more?

Before she could answer, he moved forward again, leaving her standing breathless on the staircase.

By the time they reached the towering doors of the council chamber, Ishani’s nerves were stretched taut. Her heart pounded, not just from the looming danger of nobles who despised her, but from the strange, undeniable pull that had sparked in Lucian’s presence.

She had promised herself not to fall for him. He was dangerous. Cold. The executioner of her fate.

And yet, every glance, every accidental touch, every whispered word from him seemed to tangle her heart in knots.

No, she told herself firmly. Survival comes first. Nothing else.

But as Lucian pushed open the massive doors and the nobles inside turned to stare, Ishani knew her battle was only just beginning.

She had to survive their judgment.

And survive the Duke’s dangerous closeness… before it consumed her completely.