I woke up with a splitting headache and a pinstriped lawyer shoving a contract in my face, demanding I sign away my rights to the Sterling estate. My husband, the billionaire Arthur Sterling, had been missing for three months after a plane crash, and everyone assumed he was dead. The lawyer sneered, threatening to leak compromising photos of my "shopping trips" if I didn't accept a measly fifty-thousand-dollar settlement. That was when the horrifying reality hit me: I had transmigrated into the body of Gloria Peck, the gold-digging villainess of the novel *The Sterling Legacy*. In the original story, I signed the papers, abandoned Arthur's children, and ended up frozen to death on a park bench after the family's eldest son, Jones, grew up to destroy me. But my current reality was even more desperate-I discovered I had five million dollars in gambling debts and debt collectors who didn't take "no" for an answer. Signing that paper wasn't a fresh start; it was a death sentence. Jones, Arthur's fourteen-year-old son, sat in the corner of the office, watching me with a hatred so cold it felt like a physical weight on my skin. I realized that if I followed the script, I would die. If I played the victim, I would die. I was trapped between a predatory legal team, a vengeful stepson, and a mountain of debt that fifty thousand dollars couldn't even begin to touch. How could I survive in a world where I was the most hated woman in the city, with a bank account that held exactly five hundred dollars and a target on my back? I didn't pick up the pen to sign. Instead, I slammed it into the mahogany table, piercing the heart of the agreement. "This contract is garbage," I told the stunned lawyer. Just as I prepared to fight for my life, the office door swung open, and Arthur Sterling-the man the world thought was dead-walked back into his empire, his eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. The script was officially broken, and I was just getting started.
Pain radiated from the base of Gloria's skull, a sharp, rhythmic thumping that synced perfectly with the frantic beating of her heart.
Her eyes snapped open.
The first thing that hit her was the smell. It was a suffocating blend of expensive leather polish, stale coffee, and the metallic tang of fear.
A blurry figure loomed in front of her, thrusting a black object toward her face.
"Sign it, Mrs. Sterling. It is the best offer you are going to get," a voice said. It was oily, condescending, and laced with false sympathy. "And frankly, considering the... compromising photographs we have of your little shopping trips on the company dime, it's more than fair."
Gloria blinked, her vision sharpening.
She was sitting in a high-back leather chair in a room that screamed corporate sterility.
Across the mahogany table sat a man in a pinstripe suit that cost more than most cars. His name was Vance. He was a lawyer. And he was a shark.
Gloria looked down at the document beneath her hand.
Asset Renunciation Agreement.
The words seemed to float on the page, detaching themselves from the paper and rearranging into a terrifying reality.
Memories that did not belong to her flooded her brain in a violent torrent.
She wasn't just Gloria. She was that Gloria. Gloria Peck. The gold digger. The villainess of The Sterling Legacy. The woman who married Arthur Sterling for his trust fund, abused his children, and was destined to die alone, bankrupt, and frozen on a park bench in the story's final pages.
She gasped, the air catching in her throat like a fishhook.
She looked at the date on her watch. This was the first act. The beginning of the end.
Arthur Sterling had been missing for three months after a plane crash in the Andes. everyone assumed he was dead. Vance was here to bully the "grieving" widow into signing away her rights to the estate before the body was even found.
"Gloria?" Vance tapped the paper with his index finger. A small dot of ink bled into the white fiber. "The board is waiting. The settlement is generous."
Generous.
She scanned the numbers. A lump sum of fifty thousand dollars.
In her past life, fifty thousand was a down payment on a house. In this life, Gloria Peck had gambling debts totaling five million dollars. Signing this paper wasn't a settlement. It was a death sentence.
She shifted her gaze to the corner of the room.
A boy sat there. He looked about fourteen, though his eyes were ancient. He wore a prep school blazer that was slightly too big for his thin frame.
Jones Sterling. Arthur's eldest son.
He was staring at her with a hatred so pure it felt like a physical weight on her skin.
In the book, Gloria signed the papers, took the cash, and left Jones to the wolves. Jones would grow up to be a cold, ruthless antagonist who eventually destroyed everything Gloria touched.
Survival instinct kicked in, primal and hot.
If she signed this, she died. If she followed the script, she died.
Gloria's fingers curled around the heavy Montblanc fountain pen lying on the table. The cold resin felt grounding against her sweating palm.
Vance smirked. He thought she was reaching for the pen to sign. He thought he had won.
"Smart girl," Vance murmured. "Arthur would want you to move on."
The mention of his name was the spark.
Gloria didn't uncap the pen. She didn't align it with the signature line.
She stood up.
The movement was abrupt, knocking her chair back against the wall with a loud clatter.
Vance flinched, his smirk faltering. "Mrs. Sterling?"
Gloria raised her hand high above her head.
She drove the pen down.
It wasn't a delicate motion. It was a strike.
The metal nib of the pen slammed into the mahogany table, piercing right through the center of the Asset Renunciation Agreement.
Thud.
The sound was sickeningly solid. The pen embedded itself into the wood, vibrating like a tuning fork. It missed Vance's hand by less than an inch.
Vance yelped, a high-pitched sound that was entirely undignified. He scrambled back, knocking over his glass of water. Ice cubes skittered across the polished surface.
Silence descended on the room. It was absolute. Heavy.
Gloria's chest heaved. She stared at the pen standing upright in the table, a monument to her refusal.
In the corner, Jones's jaw dropped. The cynical mask he wore cracked, revealing the confused boy underneath.
Gloria smoothed the front of her Versace skirt. Her hands were trembling, but she forced them to be still.
She looked Vance dead in the eye.
"This contract," she said, her voice raspy but steady, "is garbage."
Vance sputtered, wiping water off his lapel. "Have you lost your mind? I will call the Board. I will have you removed-"
Gloria laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound that surprised even her.
She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. Her reflection stared back. She was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful. High cheekbones, dark hair, eyes that looked like they could cut glass.
She turned her back on the city skyline and looked at Jones. She ignored the lawyer completely.
"Did you read the fine print, Jones?" she asked.
Jones froze. He didn't know how to react. The stepmother he knew would be asking about the check, not the clauses.
"I..." Jones started, his voice cracking.
"They are trying to steal your inheritance, you idiot," Gloria snapped, but there was no venom in it. Only urgency. "And they are using me to do it."
Chapter 1 No.1
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Chapter 2 No.2
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Chapter 3 No.3
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Chapter 4 No.4
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Chapter 5 No.5
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Chapter 6 No.6
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Chapter 7 No.7
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Chapter 8 No.8
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Chapter 9 No.9
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Chapter 10 No.10
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Chapter 11 No.11
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Chapter 12 No.12
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Chapter 13 No.13
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Chapter 14 No.14
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Chapter 15 No.15
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Chapter 16 No.16
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Chapter 17 No.17
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Chapter 18 No.18
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Chapter 19 No.19
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Chapter 20 No.20
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Chapter 21 No.21
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Chapter 22 No.22
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Chapter 23 No.23
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Chapter 24 No.24
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Chapter 25 No.25
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Chapter 26 No.26
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Chapter 27 No.27
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Chapter 28 No.28
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Chapter 29 No.29
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Chapter 30 No.30
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Chapter 31 No.31
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Chapter 32 No.32
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Chapter 33 No.33
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Chapter 34 No.34
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Chapter 35 No.35
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Chapter 36 No.36
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Chapter 37 No.37
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Chapter 38 No.38
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Chapter 39 No.39
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Chapter 40 No.40
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