Chapter 1 New World, New Body, Open Mic

Jean Ginger was dead. She’d made it big all on her own and reached financial freedom before hitting thirty. But just like that, a car accident wiped it all away. When she came to, she was lying in a ridiculously frilly princess bed. The headboard was covered with stuffed animals that looked like they belonged in a doll museum. Her head was pounding as memories that weren’t hers came crashing in. No freaking way. She had fallen into a book. Why was this kind of cheesy plot twist happening to her? Jean lived for money. Hustling was her life. If it hadn’t been for one random night when she couldn’t sleep and ended up on some sketchy novel site... She never would’ve clicked on that trashy title, The Real Heiress Awakens. This story was as cheesy and over-the-top as it gets. The real heiress, Sarah, had everything going for her and the whole world wrapped around her finger. In her past life, Sarah had it rough. Raised dirt poor out in the sticks, she eventually made her way to Blairford, only to be crushed under the heel of the upper crust. She married the wrong guy, suffered in silence, and died heartbroken. Only at the very end did she find out the truth. She was the real daughter of one of Blairford’s elite families. Given a second shot at life, Sarah made a vow—she was taking it all back. She sprinted to Blairford to reclaim her place, humiliated the fake heiress who had walked all over her in the past, and effortlessly won the hearts of her rich birth parents and five powerhouse big brothers. And then, because why not, she snagged the fake heiress’s fiancé too. Of course, he was the official male lead of the story. Sarah went straight to the top. Meanwhile, the fake heiress lost everything and became so hated by everyone that she ended up institutionalized. And wouldn’t you know it—Jean had landed in the body of that same fake heiress with the tragic ending. They even had the exact same name. She groaned and rubbed her temples. Should I just start packing and call ahead for a VIP room at the psych ward? Jean climbed off the bed and froze—she was shorter. Way shorter. She must’ve lost at least half a foot in height. Her long, elegant limbs had turned into chubby little arms and stubby legs. The fake heiress she’d become was only thirteen years old. The upside? The real heiress hadn’t shown up yet to ruin her life. The downside? She would—just not for a few more years. Ding-dong. Her phone lit up on the nightstand with a text. Jean tapped it open. It was a bank notification. Her account had just been credited with 70 thousand dollars. Hold up. Seventy thousand dollars? She counted the zeroes like her life depended on it. Yep. Seventy thousand dollars. Her head stopped throbbing. Her back didn’t hurt. Suddenly she felt like a brand-new woman. Fake heiress? That’s fine. I’ll take it. That 70 grand was just one month’s allowance. She didn’t even have to lift a finger. All she had to do was lie there and watch the money roll in. Jean had worked herself to the bone in her last life just to earn enough to finally coast. Now? She got to skip the struggle and coast from the start. She wasn’t about to get into some all-out war with the real heiress. Come on. This was Sarah—the literal star of the story. She was just a throwaway side character. What was she even supposed to fight back with? Better to kick back, cash in, and let it ride. "I called Ms. Ginger to come down for dinner, but she’s still in her room. She didn’t answer me..." The maid’s voice floated in from the hallway, full of hesitation. "I’ll check on her." That voice came low and smooth, with a cool edge that carried weight. It didn’t ask. It commanded. Barely a second passed. The bedroom door opened. Jean’s reflexes kicked in. She grabbed the plush toy next to her and pulled it into her arms like a shield. Her hair was tied in twin pigtails. Her eyes went big, round, and glossy like black grapes, making her tiny snow-pale face look even smaller. She clutched a long-eared bunny to her chest, looking wide-eyed and lost, every bit the picture of sweet, clueless innocence. That was exactly what Dominic saw when he stepped inside. Jean was checking him out too—the guy who just walked in, Dominic Ginger. The Ginger family was basically royalty in Blairford. Powerful, loaded, and admired. And their kids? Total overachievers. The five Ginger brothers were all stars in their own right. Each one had serious clout. Then there was the youngest sibling. The original Jean. Awkward. Average. Weird in all the wrong ways. She barely talked, never opened up, and had the personality of wet toast. Her relationship with the rest of the family was a train wreck. The Gingers gave her everything she needed, but love? Warmth? Not a chance. So when the real heiress showed up—charming, clever, and all-around lovable—it didn’t take long for the whole family to switch teams. Mom, Dad, and all five brothers started doting on Sarah like she’d been theirs all along, while the original Jean got pushed to the sidelines and forgotten. That switch-up was a big part of why things had spiraled so badly for her. Jean barely suppressed a smirk. The Ginger family can be as rich and powerful as they want. And these oh-so-amazing brothers? Whatever. She had read the book. She knew exactly where this was going. Aside from the heroine, every single Ginger turned out to be a villain. The novel was massive—nearly a million words. The first half? Total power fantasy. It was all about Sarah rising up, taking back everything that was hers. But then things got messy. Real messy. Twists, betrayals, drama galore. The powerful families in Blairford went to war, and the Gingers got pulled right into the chaos. One by one, her parents and brothers snapped. They got framed, twisted, turned into full-blown psychopaths. Sarah, being the noble, justice-loving lead, ended up having to go head-to-head with her own family. So yeah. The Ginger empire was destined to crumble. Not that it would matter to Jean by then. She’d already be written out of the story, chilling in her deluxe suite at the psych ward, stacking her cash like the early-exit side character she was. Jean craned her neck just to meet his eyes. Dominic towered over her like a skyscraper. His gaze was intense—dark, sharp, unreadable. It was the kind of look that felt like it could cut through skin and bone. And yeah, the guy was gorgeous. Sharp cheekbones, flawless features, like he’d been carved out of marble by someone with obsessive attention to detail. “Dinner. Now.” Dominic Ginger, the eldest son of the Ginger family. Spoken like he ran the place—which, honestly, he probably did. His voice was low and flat, not a trace of warmth or emotion. Jean’s eyes flicked to his suit. Crisp. Tailored. Impossibly formal for someone just standing in a hallway at home. Does he ever take a break? Who dresses like that off the clock? Her childish voice rang out clear as day—in her mind. Dominic’s gaze paused. If he wasn’t imagining things, he had just heard— Jean. Except the girl in front of him hadn’t opened her mouth. Dominic’s eyes dipped ever so slightly. His face stayed cool and unreadable, but before he could stop himself, words slipped out—like he was answering something only he could hear. "I just got back from work." So yeah. That’s why he was dressed like a walking business card. Jean froze. She hadn’t expected this ice-cold big brother himself to say... that much. It was the most she’d ever heard from him. "Oh, okay..." she said out loud, clutching her floppy-eared bunny and nodding like a good little sister. On the inside, though, she was freaking out. Holy crap! What is going on? Did the sun rise in the west today? This guy never talks. Did he hit his head or something? Dominic’s jaw tightened. Right then, everything clicked into place. He could hear Jean’s inner voice.