The first thing Emma Lin noticed wasn't the sterile smell of disinfectant or the rhythmic beeping of machines. It was the fact that her pillow felt suspiciously expensive—like the kind of thread count she'd only dreamed about while working her third job at the fancy hotel's laundry service.
Huh. That's weird.
The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't dead.
Which was... disappointing? No, that wasn't right. Emma shook her head, immediately regretting it as a dull ache pulsed through her skull. She'd been crossing the street after her night shift at the convenience store, earbuds in, probably humming some random tune—because that's what broke orphans did for entertainment—when a truck had come barreling toward her.
She remembered thinking, quite clearly, Well, at least I won't have to worry about rent anymore.
Not exactly the most optimistic last thought, but Emma had always been practical about these things. Twenty-two years of scraping by as an orphan had taught her that life was basically a series of inconveniences punctuated by the occasional expired coupon. Death? Just another Tuesday, really.
But apparently, the universe had other plans.
Emma blinked at the pristine white ceiling above her, noting the subtle crown molding that probably cost more than her entire yearly salary from all three jobs combined. The room was definitely not the overcrowded public hospital she'd expected to wake up in—if she'd expected to wake up at all.
"Oh good, you're awake."
A woman in designer scrubs—because of course even the medical staff looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine—appeared beside her bed. The nurse's smile was professionally warm, the kind that probably came with excellent health insurance and a retirement plan.
"How are you feeling, Miss...?" Emma started to ask, then paused. Her voice sounded different. Not drastically, but there was a subtle richness to it that hadn't been there before. Must be the pain medication. "Sorry, I know this sounds weird, but could you remind me of my name? The accident kind of scrambled my brain."
The nurse's expression shifted to gentle concern. "Of course, dear. You're Sophia Chen. You've been unconscious for two days after your car accident."
Emma blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
Sophia Chen.
The name hit her like a freight train—which, considering her recent experience with moving vehicles, was saying something. Emma had read enough romance novels during her brief breaks between jobs to recognize that name. In fact, she'd stayed up until 3 AM just last week, reading about a certain spoiled heiress named Sophia Chen in a web novel called "The Forgotten Daughter's Return."
Sophia Chen. The fake daughter. The villainess who made everyone's life miserable until the real daughter showed up and exposed her, sending her into a spiral of destruction that ended with her being cut off from the family fortune and probably dying alone and dramatically.
Emma stared at the ceiling, processing this information with the same calm she'd approached most of life's curveballs.
"Well," she said finally, "this is awkward."
The nurse looked confused. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh, nothing. Just... processing." Emma sat up slowly, catching sight of herself in the mirror across the room.
The face staring back at her was undeniably beautiful—the kind of effortless beauty that came with good genes and expensive skincare routines. High cheekbones, perfectly arched brows, lips that looked like they'd never been chapped from cheap chapstick. Even with the hospital gown and slightly mussed hair, she looked like she belonged on a magazine cover.
But there was something different about the eyes. Where the original Sophia had always looked calculating and cold in the novel descriptions, these eyes held warmth. They crinkled slightly at the corners, as if they were used to smiling. Even in her confusion, there was a spark of humor dancing in them.
So I'm the villainess now, Emma thought, examining her new reflection with scientific curiosity. The question is: do I lean into it or completely rewrite the script?
"Your family has been very worried," the nurse continued, checking the monitors. "They've been calling every few hours. Should I let them know you're awake?"
Family. Right. The Chen family. Four older brothers and parents who'd spent eighteen years loving someone who wasn't actually their daughter. According to the novel, they were cold and distant toward Sophia, but Emma had always suspected that was because original Sophia had been, well, terrible to them.
"Actually," Emma said, giving the nurse her brightest smile—the one that had gotten her extra shifts and the occasional free coffee, "could I have a few minutes to myself first? I just need to... process everything."
The nurse nodded understandingly. "Of course. I'll check on you in a bit. Press the call button if you need anything."
Once alone, Emma flopped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. She'd gone from working three jobs to pay for a studio apartment the size of a closet, to apparently being the daughter of a media empire. From Emma Lin, professional survivor, to Sophia Chen, fictional villainess.
"Okay, universe," she said to the empty room, "I see what you're doing here. Very funny. Emma reads trashy romance novels to escape her depressing life, so let's stick her IN a trashy romance novel. As the bad guy, no less."
She sat up and looked at her reflection again. The girl in the mirror looked back with the same expression of amused disbelief.
"The real question is," Emma continued her one-sided conversation, "do I follow the script and become the world's most dramatic villain, or do I use my extensive knowledge of customer service to completely rewrite this story?"
She'd spent years dealing with difficult customers, managing impossible schedules, and somehow maintaining her sunny disposition despite life's constant attempts to crush her spirit. Surely handling a bunch of rich, emotionally constipated family members couldn't be that much harder than dealing with Karen from accounting who insisted her expired coupon should still be valid.
Plus, she'd read the novel. She knew exactly how this story was supposed to go. The real daughter, Aria, would show up around chapter 80-something, sweet and talented and everything Sophia wasn't. The family would realize their mistake, Sophia would go ballistic, and everything would end in tears and dramatic exile.
But Emma wasn't the original Sophia. She was Emma Lin, professional problem-solver and part-time optimist. She'd survived twenty-two years of life trying to beat her down—she could certainly survive one fictional family.
"Besides," she said to her reflection, grinning now, "I've read ahead. I know how this ends. Time to write a better ending."
The heart monitor beeped steadily beside her, a reminder that she was alive, breathing, and apparently about to become the world's most unexpected plot twist.
Emma settled back into her ridiculously comfortable hospital bed and began planning. She had a family to charm, a reputation to rebuild, and a real daughter to prepare for. But first, she needed to figure out how to navigate being rich.
Step one: don't accidentally blow their cover by asking what a trust fund was.
Step two: figure out how to be a daughter to people who'd been hurt by the person whose body she'd inherited.
Step three: completely rewrite the story everyone expected her to follow.
"Alright, Sophia Chen," Emma said, testing out the name. It felt strange on her tongue, but she'd worn worse identities. At least this one came with good health insurance. "Let's see what you're really made of."
Outside her room, she could hear the distant sounds of the hospital—nurses chatting, monitors beeping, the general hum of life continuing. Somewhere in the city, the Chen family was probably debating whether to visit, wondering if their difficult daughter had finally learned her lesson.
Emma smiled, the expression transforming her face completely. Where Sophia's smiles had been sharp and calculating, Emma's was warm and genuine, reaching her eyes and softening her features.
She was about to become the plot twist no one saw coming.
And honestly? After twenty-two years of life being completely unpredictable, this felt like just another Tuesday.
A very expensive, very complicated Tuesday, but still.
Emma closed her eyes and started mentally preparing for the performance of a lifetime. She'd been playing roles her entire adult life—the cheerful employee, the responsible tenant, the girl who definitely had her life together and wasn't surviving on instant ramen and determination.
How hard could playing a reformed heiress be?
Famous last words, she thought, and started laughing. The sound was light and musical, filling the sterile hospital room with warmth.
For the first time in her life, Emma Lin was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Even if she had to be someone else to get there.