Chapter 1: Waking Up as the Mocked Wife

I transmigrated into a legal-themed, over-the-top alpha CEO romance novel—the exact one I’d roasted on TikTok right before bed.

Of course, right? Figures. I’d laughed so hard at those TikTok tropes, and now here I was, stuck smack in the middle of the mess. I swear, the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

On my first day, I managed to tick off the frosty CEO and got shipped off to Silver Heights Country Club to “learn some manners.”

Seriously? He thought a country club would scare me? Please. I was more likely to run up his tab than cower.

Come on. Did he really think that would scare me?

What a joke. I mean, honestly. I just made myself right at home!

I kicked my feet up, flipped through the room service menu. If I was getting exiled, might as well do it in style. No way was I letting some overpaid suit get under my skin.

“Mr. Langley, your canary’s been at Silver Heights for three days now.”

“Has she admitted her mistake?”

“No, she used your card to order ten male escorts to play games with her.”

If I was going down, I was going down swinging—hey, might as well throw in a poker game or two.

“Miss Raine, you should get up now.”

So noisy.

“Miss Raine, sir says he wants eggs benedict, steak, and Belgian waffles for breakfast…”

Wait, is that the TV? Whose TV is so loud?

It’s the weekend—can’t people just sleep in?

I opened my eyes, ready to yell at my inconsiderate neighbor, only to be startled by a stranger in a perfectly pressed maid uniform standing right by my bed.

A burglar in my house?

No—this wasn’t even my home!

My heart skipped a beat. The room was too neat, too polished, too... way too fancy for me. The faint scent of lemon polish and fresh laundry made it obvious: I was somewhere upscale, somewhere I definitely didn’t belong.

“Miss Raine, since you’re awake, please hurry and prepare sir’s breakfast. If you’re not up to the task, you can’t stay by sir’s side.”

Her mouth kept moving, just talking nonsense. Then she left, nose in the air, as if certain I’d just fall in line.

Wait, who are you?

It’s not even dawn and you want me to make breakfast for your ‘sir’?

Did someone sell me into servitude here?

Seriously?

Wait a second!

Miss Raine… why does that name sound so familiar?

A certain possibility popped into my mind. I leapt out of bed and rushed to the mirror.

I stared. The face staring back was heartbreakingly pretty—definitely not my usual morning look.

I blinked, leaning in close. The girl in the glass looked straight out of a Hallmark movie: big eyes, pouty lips, the kind of beauty that makes people sigh. Definitely not my usual morning look.

“Wife!”

I blurted out, only to see the beauty in the mirror looking just as excited.

Oh my god. Turns out I’m the wife.

Right away, I made a judgment:

This name, Raine, plus the whole getting-up-before-dawn-to-cook-for-the-CEO thing—yeah, case closed. I’ve definitely transmigrated into a romance novel.

My head spun as everything clicked into place. I’d read enough of these stories to know the signs: ridiculous chores, a cold rich guy, a name like ‘Raine.’