Charlotte Davies had always considered herself a moderately successful woman. She worked a desk job, had an apartment she could afford, and a routine that kept her comfortably within the confines of mediocrity. If you asked her friends, they would probably describe her as "quirky" or "funny," although Charlotte was sure that the real word was "awkward." She wasn't the life of the party or the one people sought out when they needed advice, but she had her niche. She kept to herself, buried in her emails, coffee, and the occasional binge-watch session on her laptop.
That was, until she wasn't.
One rainy Tuesday evening, as Charlotte walked home from work, everything changed. The last thing she remembered was an unnatural flash of lightning, so bright, it seemed to cut through the storm, and a violent jolt, like the very air itself had gone static. Then, nothing.
When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer on the familiar streets of her city. Instead, the first thing that registered in her mind was the sound of horses' hooves clattering on cobblestone streets. The second thing was the opulence surrounding her. Velvet curtains lined the windows, chandeliers glimmered above, and fine tapestries adorned the walls. It was like stepping into a scene from an old period drama⊠except it wasn't a movie.
The third thing that struck her? She was wearing the tightest pair of pants she'd ever been forced to squeeze herself into.
Panicking, Charlotte glanced down at herself. Gone was her usual office attire. In place of her button-up blouse and slacks was an elaborate coat, dark and rich, with gold embroidery. The entire ensemble screamed noble, as in, "I'm wealthy, my family has history, and I have the kind of title you'd either envy or despise."
She was no longer Charlotte Davies.
She was Duke Caelum Brightmore.
"Great," Charlotte muttered under her breath, taking in the lavish room around her. "Just what I needed."
She groaned as she sat up in what appeared to be a bed large enough to house a small village. The room was furnished with more grandeur than her entire apartment. Dark wood furniture, satin sheets, and an ornate mirror that reflected the newly minted Duke staring back at her. At least, that's who she assumed it was. But no, it wasn't a stranger. It was her face, but... not. The face she saw in the mirror belonged to a tall, lean man, with sharp cheekbones, dark hair that fell in waves, and a stubble that looked like it came straight out of a romance novel.
"Who the heck is Duke Caelum Brightmore?" she whispered, looking at her reflection.
The name clicked somewhere in her mind, and as memories flooded in, Charlotte discovered that Caelum Brightmore was a notorious playboy. The kind of man who made headlines for being at every ball, involved in every scandal, and somehow always managing to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
Not only had she just found herself in the body of a man, but this man was the very definition of a heartbreak waiting to happen.
"Oh, no," Charlotte groaned, her hand finding her face. "I did not sign up for this. Not in a million years."
There was no escaping it. She was stuck. Somehow, through what she could only assume was a freak accident, Charlotte had been reincarnated into the body of this very high-ranking noble. According to her new memories, she was the Duke of Brightmore, heir to a vast fortune, and surrounded by nothing but the endless luxury of high society. No matter how she looked at it, her life as Charlotte Davies was over. She was now Caelum Brightmore.
"Well, Caelum, if that's even your real name, I hope you have a good reason for all the mess you've left me in."
As Charlotte pondered how to begin this new life, a loud knock interrupted her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door swung open, and a tall figure entered.
A servant, Charlotte presumed, judging by the man's simple attire of a tunic and trousers. His head was bowed slightly, but his eyes were trained on her, and there was a knowing smirk on his lips.
"Good morning, Your Grace," he said smoothly. "The council awaits you, my lord."
Charlotte blinked. "The... council?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Your meeting at the estate. Should I prepare the carriage?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as though Charlotte should know exactly what he was talking about.
She opened her mouth to protest, she had no idea what was going on or who these people were, but caught herself just in time. If she admitted to her confusion, she'd look completely out of place. The servant's expression didn't help either. There was a mix of expectation and impatience as if he knew the duke was notorious for making his meetings more of a show than a work-related affair.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte adjusted the gold chain around her neck, another sign of the Duke's wealth. "Yes. Yes, prepare the carriage," she said, putting on what she hoped looked like an authoritative air. She wasn't sure whether she was succeeding, but she figured that if anyone could pull off being the Duke of Brightmore, it was going to be her, or at least she would try.
The servant gave her a small bow. "Right away, Your Grace."
Once the door clicked shut behind him, Charlotte looked around the room, trying to make sense of this new world. The soft light filtering through the curtains gave it a cozy atmosphere, but there was no time to dwell. She had to get her bearings.
Step one: Find out what a Duke does.
The problem was, she didn't know where to begin. Charlotte had read some historical romance novels in the past, so she had a passing familiarity with the concept of the nobility, but being a playboy Duke was a different matter altogether. According to her new memories, Caelum Brightmore was not known for his political expertise or his contributions to the kingdom's welfare, no, his name was usually mentioned alongside words like "scandal," "affair," and "wild."
Somehow, she couldn't imagine this life was all parties and pretty gowns. Or was it?
Trying to suppress the rising panic in her chest, Charlotte stood up and crossed the room. She found a heavy, ornate mirror leaning against the wall, taking in the outfit that had already become a second skin. She ran a hand through Caelum's dark, untamed hair and stared at the reflection of the man who was supposed to be her new identity.
"Okay, Caelum," she whispered to herself. "Let's see what mess you've gotten yourself into."
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End of Chapter 1
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