Prologue
In her original world, Anvi Rajvansh didn’t walk into boardrooms. She conquered them.
At twenty-five, she made CEOs tremble, chefs whisper, investors chase, hackers salute, and film directors beg. She switched languages like Spotify playlists, coded like she was born in binary, and cooked cuisine capable of making Michelin judges cry tears of joy.
Her life was a fast-moving elevator straight up.
Until one night, that elevator crashed.
A truck. A screaming child. Anvi running faster than thought.
A push. A blinding light.
Silence.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t in a hospital.
She was in a throne room of stars.
“You died saving a child,” the godly voice echoed. “You left honorably. So I grant you another life… though not in your world.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked, deadpan. She didn’t do free trials.
“You will enter a novel. A romance novel — one your assistant gave you.”
Her eyebrow twitched. That book? That cringe book? The one where the heroine was a manipulative fake heiress and the villainess was written like a badly edited meme?
“Unfortunately,” the deity continued, “you are the villainess.”
Shock? No. Anger? Not even.
She laughed.
A low, dangerous, amused laugh.
“Fine,” she said. “Give me the world. I’ll handle the rest.”
And so, Anvi Rajvansh was reborn in a world where she was supposed to be humiliated, ignored, and replaced. A world where the fake daughter stole her family’s love, and her fiancé chose another woman over her.
But the moment she opened her eyes in this new body, the game changed.
Because she wasn’t their weak villainess anymore.
She was Anvi Rajvansh — the business goddess, the hacker queen, the real heiress.
And somewhere far from her bedroom, in a palace glowing under the Rajasthan moon, a man felt the shift.
Abhimaan Singh Rathore looked up from his desk, his dark eyes sharp.
He didn’t know her.
He hadn’t seen her.
But he felt her… like fate whispering his name.
And fate never whispered without reason.
