Page 3 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

She quickly skimmed through the pages, her eyes glazing over the dense text without really absorbing any of it, found the signature line, and scrawled her name with the celestial quill that appeared in her hand.

"Excellent choice!" Mercy purred, and the scroll vanished in a puff of golden sparkles. "Welcome to your new life, Carol Reed. Or should I say—Caroline Holloway Vanthorn, Duchess of the Frostmarch!"

"Wait, what—"

The cloud beneath Carol started to dissolve, and her body began to shimmer with the same golden light.

"Oh, one more thing!" Mercy called out, her smile turning mischievous. "Good luck! You'll need it!"

"Wait—" Carol felt herself falling, dissolving, being pulled into somewhere else. "What do you mean? WHAT DO YOU MEAN—"

Mercy's laughter followed her into the darkness.

"You should have read the contract!"

Chapter 2

Maybe I Should Have Read the Contract

Carol woke up to softness.

Not the kind of softness you got from a department store mattress or even expensive hotel sheets. This was the kind of softness that made you question if you were still dreaming—like sleeping on a cloud made of silk and down feathers and pure comfort.

She stretched, her body sinking deeper into what had to be the most luxurious bed she'd ever experienced, and slowly opened her eyes.

The ceiling above her was painted with delicate frescoes of flowers and vines in soft pastels. A chandelier dripping with crystals hung in the center, catching the morning light and scattering it across the room like tiny stars.

Carol sat up, and her breath caught.

The bedroom was enormous. Her entire apartment back home could have fit in here twice over. The walls were covered in cream silk wallpaper with subtle gold detailing. Heavy velvet curtains in deep emerald green framed floor-to-ceiling windows. The furniture—a vanity, wardrobe, writing desk, sitting area—all looked like it belonged in a palace.

Oh my god. Carol's heart raced with excitement. I actually did it. I'm really here. This is real.

She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet sinking into plush carpet, and immediately went to the wardrobe. When she threw open the doors, she actually gasped.

Dresses. Dozens of them. Silks and satins and velvets in every color imaginable, all clearly custom-made and incredibly expensive. She ran her fingers over the fabrics, feeling the quality, the weight, the sheer luxury of it all.

The vanity was next. Carol practically skipped over to it and found drawers full of jewelry—real jewelry. Pearls, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, all set in intricate gold and silver designs. There were hairpins studded with diamonds, necklaces that probably cost more than her yearly salary had been, bracelets that sparkled in the morning light.

"This is amazing," Carol breathed, holding up a particularly stunning necklace. "This is everything I wanted. Comfort, luxury, no more spreadsheets—"

She caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror and froze.

The face staring back at her was beautiful. Delicate features, flawless porcelain skin, large eyes the color of warm amber, and cascading honey-blonde hair that fell in perfect waves down to her waist. She looked like she'd stepped out of a painting.

Carol touched her face, watched the reflection do the same, and felt a surreal disconnect. This was her now. This was her body.

Well, she thought, at least I'm pretty.

She stood up and walked to the windows, pulling back the curtains to reveal the view outside.

The breath left her lungs.

The gardens stretched out as far as she could see, a masterpiece of landscaping in spring glory. Flower beds in full bloom created rivers of color—roses, dahlias, lavender, and flowers she didn't even recognize. Stone pathways wound through perfectly manicured hedges. A fountain sparkled in the distance. Beyond the gardens, rolling hills covered in green stretched to meet a forest on the horizon.

It was breathtaking. It was perfect. It was—

Carol looked down at herself and paused.