The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 19 -

Sleep was a concept Beatrice used to enjoy.

Back in her past life, she could sleep through a storm, an exam deadline, or even a full-blown existential crisis. But now?

Now, she lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, her entire body aching from her very graceful, catastrophic, fall off a horse.

She groaned and turned onto her side, regretting it instantly as pain shot through her back. "Ugh. This is homophobic."

Lily, who was setting up her morning tea, froze. "My lady?"

Beatrice waved a weak hand. "Ignore me, Lily. I'm just in pain and being dramatic."

Lily sighed, already used to her nonsense. "Perhaps some rest would help?"

Beatrice scoffed. "I rested all night. Did my spine forgive me? No. Betrayal."

Lily set a cup of tea beside her. "Then perhaps something to take your mind off it?"

Beatrice blinked.

Actually... yeah.

Something to take her mind off everything would be great right now.

She sat up slowly, hissing in pain, then grabbed the leather-bound journal sitting on her bedside table.

It was empty. For now.

But not for long.

Beatrice exhaled sharply and dipped her quill into the ink.

It was time to write.

The words flowed easier than she expected.

She knew this story by heart. After all, it was her favorite novel before it became her personal nightmare.

She started with the basics.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

Chapter 1.

"The palace selection was an event of grand tradition, where noble ladies from across the kingdom gathered in hopes of securing the favor of the crown prince. Among them stood Johanna Lockhart, a vision of pure grace, her golden curls shining beneath the crystal chandeliers—"

Beatrice froze.

Then, with zero hesitation, she scratched out the entire sentence.

"God, that's embarrassing."

She shook her head. Why was she writing it like that?

She wasn't some historical romance author. She wasn't trying to make Johanna sound like a goddess descending from the heavens. She was writing this to remember key events.

No fluff. No dramatics. Just facts.

She tapped the quill against the paper before rewriting the sentence.

"Johanna Lockhart was chosen to remain at court after the selection, her kindness and beauty setting her apart from the rest."

Much better.

She continued, jotting down everything she remembered.

The way Johanna met Francois. The noblewomen whispering about the selection. The tense rivalry between Johanna and Beatrice.

Her hand slowed.

A new sentence wrote itself before she could think.

"Lady Beatrice Da Ville sat at the grand banquet, perfectly poised, though her hands were curled tightly over the edges of her gown. She smiled, but she was drowning."

Beatrice's heart skipped a beat.

Wait.

That wasn't in the novel.

She hadn't read that line before. She hadn't planned to write that.

And yet, her hand kept moving.

"She had spent her entire life preparing for this moment. Her family had told her that she would be queen. That she would stand beside the prince, a jewel on the throne, the pride of House Da Ville."

"But Francois did not look at her. He never looked at her."

Beatrice's chest tightened. Her breathing felt uneven, like she had just unlocked something buried.

She swallowed hard, forcing her hand to stop.

This wasn't her writing. This was past Beatrice's. Her real thoughts.

A sharp knock at the door made her jump.

Beatrice immediately slammed the notebook shut as Lila strolled in, arms crossed.

"You've been locked up in here all morning," Lila said, arching an eyebrow. "You plotting something?"

Beatrice forced a very casual, definitely not guilty laugh. "What? No. I was just.... writing."

Lila's eyes narrowed. "Writing?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Just... notes. About stuff."

Lila smirked. "Secret love letters?"

Beatrice snorted. "Oh, totally. To Francois. Dear Crown Prince, your personality is terrible, and I hope you step on a turd.'"

Lila laughed. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Beatrice exhaled, relieved. Crisis avoided.

For now.

But as Lila continued talking about some noble drama, Beatrice's gaze drifted back to her notebook.

She hadn't been rewriting the novel. She had been remembering.

Beatrice forced herself to smile as Lila rambled about some noblewoman's meltdown at a tea party. Something about a dress, an argument over seating arrangements, and a near duel between two elderly lords who had way too much time on their hands.

Normally, Beatrice would be fully invested in the chaos. But her mind was stuck on the words she had just written.

"Francois did not look at her. He never looked at her."

Why did that feel so painfully real?

She had read about Beatrice Da Ville. Hated her character at times. Thought she was nothing more than a spoiled, entitled villain who threw tantrums because the prince didn't love her.

But this?

This wasn't some shallow obsession. This was a girl trying desperately to be loved.

Beatrice exhaled slowly, pressing her palm over the notebook, as if she could shove the memories back down.

She needed to be careful. Because if this was only the beginning of her past self's memories bleeding through. And she had no idea what was coming next.

"Are you even listening to me?" Lila's voice pulled her back.

Beatrice blinked, refocusing. "Huh?"

Lila narrowed her eyes. "I was saying that Lord Vertain nearly passed out from rage after Lady Regina insulted his mustache. And you're over there looking like a ghost just whispered tax fraud in your ear."

Beatrice shook her head, waving a hand dismissively. "Sorry. Just tired. My spine is still boycotting my existence."

Lila snorted. "You're so dramatic about it."

Beatrice smirked. "Lila, my entire brand is being dramatic."

Lila rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Anyway, I hope whatever you're writing in that little book of yours is more entertaining than this palace. Because, frankly, I am bored."

Beatrice tapped her fingers over the cover of her notebook. "Oh, don't worry. It's a riveting story. Betrayal. Lies. Family drama. You'd love it."

Lila perked up. "Really?"

Beatrice grinned. "No."

Lila groaned and threw a pillow at her.

As they bickered, Beatrice carefully tucked her notebook under a stack of papers.

She would keep writing. But she would also make damn sure no one else saw it.

Not yet.