Chapter 1
At 2 a.m., Vancouver was shrouded in silence, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. Emily Parker's apartment remained brightly lit. The faint blue glow of her computer screen reflected on her tired face as she leaned back in her chair. Emily was a game designer, and late nights like this were part of her routine.
Finally, she completed the latest build of her Regency-inspired game, Beneath the Veil of Roses. "Done at last!" she muttered, stretching her aching neck. After hitting the upload button, she brushed her teeth quickly and collapsed onto her bed without even changing out of her hoodie.
When she opened her eyes again, her breath caught in her throat. Surrounding her was a pristine English countryside, the soft golden light of morning spilling through tall windows. A polished wooden vanity and ornate four-poster bed framed the space around her. She looked down and saw herself wearing a lavender gown with lace trimmings. The realization hit her like a thunderbolt—this wasn't her apartment.
"What in the world?" Emily whispered, touching the delicate fabric of her dress. It felt real. Too real. Her pulse quickened.
"Miss Evelyn, are you awake?" came a soft, melodic voice from beyond the door.
Emily froze. Miss Evelyn? That wasn't her name. Before she could process what was happening, the door creaked open, and a young maid stepped in, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of porridge. She had a kind but nervous expression.
"Miss Evelyn, you weren't feeling well last night after the rain. Here, you must eat something warm."
Emily's stomach churned as the pieces fell into place. Evelyn Darrow. That was the name of the antagonist in Beneath the Veil of Roses. Evelyn was the cold, calculating noblewoman who envied the heroine's charm and wit. Ultimately, Evelyn's schemes led to her disgrace and downfall.
"This can't be real," Emily muttered, her heart sinking. She clutched the bedsheets. "Wait—what did you call me again?"
The maid hesitated, confused. "Miss Evelyn Darrow… Is something wrong, miss?"
Emily's head spun. I've somehow woken up as the villain of my own game? Are you kidding me? Others get to be the heroine with a happy ending, and I'm stuck playing a character destined for ruin.
"Miss Evelyn? Should I fetch the doctor?" the maid asked, worry etched on her face.
Emily shook her head and forced a smile. "No, no, I'm fine. Just… a bit disoriented."
She racked her brain. In the game's timeline, Evelyn was preparing for her engagement party to the cunning yet charming Lord Frederick Ashbourne. According to the plot, Frederick would betray Evelyn, further fueling her downward spiral.
Not this time. I'm rewriting this story.
Emily straightened her back and said, "Mary, fetch me a dress suitable for visiting the gardens. I have matters to attend to."
The Gardens of Darrow Manor
Lord Frederick Ashbourne's fencing practice was a spectacle. His movements were calculated, his strikes precise. His manservant stood nearby, offering sycophantic praise. "A masterful display, my lord. Miss Darrow will surely admire your skill."
Frederick smirked, sheathing his sword. "Admire me? Evelyn Darrow should consider herself lucky to marry me. A woman like her ought to be grateful."
"Is that so?" A sharp voice sliced through the morning air.
Frederick turned, startled, to see Evelyn descending the stone steps of the manor. Her elegant green gown flowed as she walked, and her composed demeanor exuded confidence. This wasn't the desperate, scheming Evelyn he was accustomed to. She seemed… different.
"Miss Darrow," he said, recovering quickly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Emily—now Evelyn—smiled faintly, though her eyes were cold. "I simply came to remind you of something, Lord Ashbourne," she said, her voice smooth. "Our engagement may be arranged, but that does not give you the liberty to insult my character, even behind my back."
Frederick's smirk faltered. "I beg your pardon?"
Emily stepped closer, her tone turning sharp. "A man's reputation can be his greatest asset—or his undoing. Perhaps you'd do well to keep that in mind."
Frederick's hand tightened on his sword. "Are you threatening me?"
"Not at all," she replied, tilting her head. "Consider it… friendly advice. After all, I'd hate for any rumors to tarnish your good name."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Frederick stunned.
As Emily returned to the manor, a small smile played on her lips. First encounter handled.
This wasn't just a game anymore. If she was going to survive as Evelyn Darrow, she would have to rewrite her story—and this time, she was determined to win.
"The game has just begun," she whispered to herself, her resolve hardening.
Back in the privacy of her room, Emily paced across the polished wooden floor, her mind racing. She needed a strategy to survive this story and, if possible, turn the tide in her favor. To do that, she had to avoid two key pitfalls: alienating everyone around her and falling into the traps that led to Evelyn's downfall.
Step 1: Understand the players.
Emily sat at the ornate vanity, staring at her reflection. "I know the major characters," she muttered. The heroine, Lady Isabelle Fairfax, was beloved for her charm, wit, and kind heart. Lord Frederick Ashbourne, while dashing, was manipulative and power-hungry. The supporting characters—Isabelle's friends, Emily's rivals, and the royal court—were pieces on the chessboard she needed to navigate.
But knowledge wasn't enough. In the game, Evelyn's downfall came from her inability to play the political and social games wisely. Emily decided she'd use Evelyn's position and wealth as tools, not weapons.
Step 2: Build alliances.
Evelyn Darrow was universally disliked—by Isabelle's friends, by Frederick, even by her own household staff. Emily knew she had to change that perception immediately.
She called Mary back into the room. "Mary, I'll need your help."
The maid blinked in surprise. "Miss Evelyn? What can I do?"
"First," Emily said with a smile, "stop calling me 'Miss Evelyn.' Just Evelyn will do when we're alone."
Mary hesitated, her wide eyes reflecting her shock. "But… miss, it wouldn't be proper."
"It's a small request," Emily said gently. "You've served me loyally, haven't you?"
Mary nodded. "Yes, miss."
"Then trust me on this." Emily placed a reassuring hand on Mary's arm. "You're important to me, Mary. And I'd like to show you the same respect you've shown me."
The maid flushed and gave a small, grateful curtsy. "As you wish, Evelyn."
Step 3: Change the narrative.
The following day, Emily attended a gathering at the Darrow estate. The crème de la crème of society mingled, sipping tea and exchanging pleasantries. In the game, Evelyn's usual strategy was to dominate conversations and subtly insult Isabelle to elevate herself. Emily knew that approach wouldn't work. Instead, she took a different path.
"Lady Fairfax," Emily said warmly as she approached Isabelle, who was chatting with a group of admirers. "I must commend you on your gown. The embroidery is exquisite."
Isabelle blinked, clearly taken aback. "Oh… thank you, Miss Darrow."
"It's Evelyn," Emily corrected with a kind smile. "We're soon to be neighbors at court, are we not? I thought it only proper that we get to know each other better."
The onlookers exchanged curious glances. This wasn't the cold, sharp-tongued Evelyn Darrow they were used to. Isabelle hesitated but eventually nodded. "Of course, Evelyn. I'd be delighted."
As they spoke, Emily subtly shifted the focus onto Isabelle, asking thoughtful questions and letting her shine. By the end of the conversation, Isabelle's previous wariness had softened into tentative trust.
Step 4: Neutralize threats.
Later that evening, Emily sought out Lord Ashbourne. He was holding court with a group of sycophants, laughing at his own biting humor.
"Lord Ashbourne," Emily interrupted smoothly, her tone neutral. "May I have a word?"
The group fell silent as Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Of course, Miss Darrow."
She led him to a quieter corner of the room. "I know what you think of me," she began. "You believe I'm nothing more than a spoiled woman clinging to a title."
Frederick chuckled. "How refreshingly honest."
"But you're wrong," Emily continued, her voice firm. "I'm not your enemy, Frederick. If we're to be married, we could be allies—partners, even. Your ambitions are clear, and I have resources that could complement them."
Frederick's interest was piqued. "And why should I trust you?"
"You don't have to," Emily replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. "But consider this: if I'm standing beside you, I won't be standing against you. Together, we could achieve far more than apart."
Frederick studied her, his expression unreadable. "You're full of surprises, Evelyn."
Emily's thoughts that night:
As she lay in bed, Emily replayed the day's events in her mind. She'd planted seeds of trust with Isabelle, positioned herself as a potential ally to Frederick, and begun building a rapport with Mary. Small steps, but crucial ones.
"This isn't just survival," she whispered to herself. "This is strategy. And if I play my cards right, I'll not only rewrite Evelyn's story—I'll write myself a future where I thrive."
The game was changing, and Emily was ready to win.