I Refuse to Be the Doomed Vicious Fiancée

It had been exactly three years since our breakup when my phone suddenly buzzed with a message from that jerk, Asher Sterling.

"I've just landed. Prep your Hamptons villa; it's time we start planning the wedding," it read. "By the way, Chloe will be living with us. She's my core VP now, so you need to be gracious to her."

Before I even had time to draft a reply, a jarring, mechanical voice barged into my mind.

[Beep! Villainess System activated. Main Quest: Tearfully welcome the male lead back to the country and display profound jealousy toward the female lead, Chloe. Quest Reward: A sliver of the male lead's pity.]

My fingertips hovered mid-air over the screen. The system treated me like a villainess who had no choice but to bow her head, and Asher treated me like a backup plan he could summon back at any moment.

I turned to look at my peacefully sleeping daughter in her crib, and the image of my wildly handsome, billionaire husband flashed through my mind. A sliver of pity? I let out a cold sneer and hit the block button.

I told him to go to hell.

At 3:00 a.m., I had just drifted off to sleep when a violent pounding on the front door echoed from downstairs.

"Sienna! Open up!" Asher’s voice was raspy, heavy with a hangover. "I can't believe you blocked me! Stop throwing a tantrum and open this door! Or I'll turn around and walk away, and you'll be the one crying about it later!"

I ground my back teeth. My daughter was still fast asleep in the nursery. If he woke her up, I was going to make sure he paid the price.

Yanking the belt of my silk robe tight, I practically ripped the front door open. Asher stood draped in a custom-tailored suit, leaning against the doorframe with one hand. His gaze swept over me, just as it had always been—like he was appraising a possession that belonged exclusively to him.

Then, his eyes shifted past my face, dropping straight to the center of the living room. Sitting right there in the open was a baby playpen. A few teething toys were scattered across the rug beside it, and a bottle sterilizer—stamped with a custom baby name sticker—rested on the coffee table.

"Looks like three years away from me has left you so broke you can't even afford to feed yourself?" Asher scoffed, pushing past me into the foyer without a shred of hesitation. "Without my resources, did you go play nanny for someone else? Or did you get so desperate to pay the mortgage that you had to split rent with a single mom?"

I barely parted my lips to speak before Asher held up a hand, cutting me off.

"Whatever," he sighed, turning back to face me. "Seeing as you've waited for me all these years and still don't even have a decent job, I'm back. I’ll overlook your old temper tantrums."

He paused, smoothly straightening his tie. "But what you did three years ago—ostracizing Chloe and using your family’s background to force her out of the company—was incredibly malicious."

"In a few days, go buy a Patek Philippe women’s watch. The next time you see her, hand it to her yourself as an apology."

When I remained silent, he closed the distance between us by a step. "Chloe is gracious and level-headed. I relied completely on her during my three years in London. But because of the promise I made to you back then, I can't give her the title of my wife. From now on, you get to be the society wife, and she gets to be my business partner. She isn't holding a grudge, so don't you push your luck either. The three of us can live like civilized adults."

My fingers crumpled the fabric of my robe. Right on cue, that robotic voice detonated in my skull once again:

[Warning! Host has deviated from the script! Please question him immediately to display the despair and jealousy expected of a villainess! Accept the watch-buying apology quest at once! Failure to follow the plot will result in strict punishment!]

Standing directly in front of me, Asher continued to stare with his usual, breathtakingly arrogant glaze.

I took a deep, steadying breath and looked him dead in the eye. "Asher, not everyone in this world wants to revolve around your fragile ego."

Asher's brows knitted together in a sharp frown.

I pointed a rigid finger at the open door. "Take your pathetic charity and get the hell out. Over these three years, I've already gotten married. And those baby items? They belong to my biological daughter."

A suffocating, two-second dead silence blanketed the entryway. Asher’s gaze slid down from my face, inch by agonizing inch, until it finally stopped on the bare ring finger of my left hand.