Chapter 1

When I woke up, I found myself in a small room with a single bed, the sheets thin and rough. I blinked groggily, confused by my surroundings. This wasn’t my bedroom. My heart pounded as I sat up, taking in the unfamiliar walls around me. The room was dimly lit, barely furnished with an old wooden dresser and a tiny mirror on the wall. Everything looked plain, almost like something out of another time. Maybe I was dreaming?

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping when I opened them again, I’d be back home in my cozy apartment. But no luck. When I opened my eyes again, I was still here, in this strange room.

What is happening? I racked my brain, trying to piece together how I’d ended up here. The night before, I’d been on my couch, curled up with snacks, reading my best friend’s Wattpad novel. It was one of those cheesy stories about a rich Indian family with lots of drama. I had rolled my eyes at the ridiculous plotlines, but I kept reading for her sake. I must have dozed off, right?

Just then, the door creaked open, and an old lady bustled in. "Hey, you! Are you still sleeping?" she barked, her hands on her hips. Her sharp eyes bore into me. "You've been working here for a year, and you're still like this! Today’s a big day—there’s going to be a party, and we have so much to do!"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Wait, what?”

"You need to wash the dirty dishes in the kitchen and clean the floor," she continued, not even waiting for a response. "The Rajputs are expecting everything to be perfect today."

The name Rajput made my stomach drop. That couldn’t be right. Rajput was the surname of the wealthy family in my best friend’s novel. But this couldn’t be…

“Excuse me?” I blurted out. “What are you talking about? I don’t—”

The old lady gave me a look like I had lost my mind. “What do you mean, what am I talking about? You’re a servant here! Have you gone mad?” She waved her hand impatiently, clearly done with my confusion. “Now hurry up! We don’t have all day.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left, the door slamming behind her.

I stood there, frozen. A servant? What the hell was going on?

Still feeling like I was trapped in some bizarre dream, I stumbled into what looked like a tiny bathroom attached to the room. I needed to splash some water on my face and shake off this weird sense of disorientation. Maybe then I’d wake up. But when I looked into the mirror, the person staring back at me wasn’t quite me.

My face was the same, but my hair—it was black. Long and sleek, nothing like the red streaks I had dyed it a few months ago. And my body—I was skinny. My hands automatically went to my waist, where the extra softness I was used to feeling was…gone. I loved food, and my curves had always been part of me, but now, I looked different. Too different.

What is going on?

I stepped back from the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed answers. I looked around the bathroom, hoping for some kind of clue, but all I found were old toiletries and a worn towel hanging on a hook. The old lady’s words replayed in my mind: You’re a servant here.

“No,” I whispered to myself, trying to breathe through the panic rising in my throat. “This can’t be happening.”

I stumbled back into the room, my legs feeling weak beneath me. That name—Rajput. I knew it wasn’t just a coincidence. My best friend’s novel had a family named the Rajputs, a rich and powerful family, but there had also been a servant in the story…named Jasmine. My name.

A chill ran down my spine as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m in the novel.

That had to be it. Somehow, I wasn’t just dreaming about the story; I was in it. Living it. And worse than that—I wasn’t even one of the main characters. I was Jasmine. The servant. The same one who was supposed to die early on in the story.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

In the book, Jasmine was nothing more than a background character, a servant who overheard a dangerous secret and paid the price for it with her life. She barely lasted a few chapters before she was killed off by one of the villains. Was that my fate now? Was I going to die here too?

I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen.

I ran a hand through my hair—my new black hair—and tried to calm myself down. I needed to think, to figure out a way to survive this. Okay, so I was a servant. Fine. That didn’t mean I had to follow the plot exactly, right? I could change things. I could stay out of trouble, avoid the main characters, and maybe—just maybe—I could escape my death sentence.

The old lady’s voice echoed in my mind again. The Rajputs were expecting guests, and there was a party today. That meant the story was just getting started. If I remembered correctly, the evil wife—Pari—was the one responsible for causing chaos in the family. She was the one who would eventually betray everyone and destroy their lives. But that was still a little way off. I had time to figure out who she was, stop her, and save myself in the process.

The only problem? I couldn’t remember which of the brothers she married. Was it Abhiraj, the cold and arrogant eldest brother? Or Siddharth, the charming middle one? Maybe it was Ranbir, the youngest, who was quiet and brooding.

I couldn’t take any chances. For now, I’d lay low, do my job as a servant, and try to gather information without drawing too much attention to myself. And, most importantly, I’d avoid getting involved in the family drama as much as possible. I just had to survive.

As I headed toward the door, the old lady’s words lingered in my mind. Do you want to be fired?

Honestly? Yes, yes, I did. But getting fired from this job might be the least of my worries. If I was going to stay alive, I had a feeling that the real danger was only just beginning.

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