Reborn as the Villainess

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As Felix's eyes darted toward the door, he couldn't believe who he saw strolling by casually. It was Eleanor.

No way... he thought, biting his lip. She finished already? But it's only been an hour. That's impossible. How did she do it so

fast?

A sense of panic crept up his spine. Felix, usually composed and methodical, found himself speeding through the rest of the exam. His mind raced. I can't let her beat me, he told himself inwardly, pushing through the last few questions at a breakneck pace. By 1 the time Felix scribbled down his final answer, an hour and a half had passed. Without a second thought, he shot up from his desk and handed in his exam, a strange rush of adrenaline propelling him forward. This was the first time he handed in his test without double- checking. But right now, he didn't care about the details. All that mattered to him was that he couldn't let Eleanor get the upper hand.

But he was in for an even bigger shock. Eleanor hadn't just finished the physics exam early-she breezed through her math and Spanish exams as well, spending no more than forty minutes on each before she strolled out of the exam hall. Felix clenched his jaw, trying to speed up, but the best he could do was reduce his time to an hour. Unbeknownst to him, Eleanor was blissfully unaware of Felix's silent rivalry. The moment she handed in her sauntered out of the school grounds with only one thing on her mind-sherbet. test, she

The sherbet shop near the school was famous for its delicious and affordable sherbet, drawing crowds daily. But today, with her early exit, Eleanor had the whole stand to herself. In her previous life as a famous actress, she had to maintain a strict diet-no sweets, no indulgences, barely even allowed to enjoy fresh fruit. But now she was free and there was no need for her to watch what she ate so carefully. And she was going to devour as much sherbet as she wanted.

"Hi, one strawberry sherbet with extra strawberry jam, please, Eleanor said, practically bouncing with excitement.

The shop owner, a sweet woman in her fifties, smiled warmly. "Coming right up."

A hefty bowl of sherbet was placed in her hands moments later. The bright red sauce glistened under the sun, and Eleanor wasted no time, scooping up a huge spoonful. The first bite was pure bliss, the sweet, icy treat melting in her mouth, making her feel like she was in heaven. She sighed, savoring every bite.C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

Just as she was about to dig in again, a low, hushed voice came from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. "Uh, ma'am, one sherbet, no jam, no toppings, no sugar. Thanks"

Eleanor paused mid-scoop, furrowing her brows in confusion. No jam, no toppings, and no sugar? Isn't that just... ice?' she thought, amused. 'What kind of weirdo comes all the way here just to eat plain ice? What is he, made of money?" "That would be five dollars, the shop owner's voice chimed. "Cash or card, young man?"

There was a soft rustling noise as the man fumbled through his pockets, metal clinking together. Eleanor's brow arched. 'Is he wearing handcuffs or something she mused, picturing a ridiculous scenario.

Just as she was about to turn around for a better look, a shadow loomed over her, cutting off her light. A voice, deep and with a lazy swagger, drifted down from above her. "Hey, miss, how about I sign something for you, and you give me five bucks?" Eleanor glanced up, and her eyes widened at the sight before her Standing there was none other than Gregory Harper, though she had no idea who he was. It was his whole look that startled her.

His hair was dyed a glaring shade of cherry blossom pink, and he was draped in a neon green leather jacket, complete with

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absurd number of dangling metal chains. To her, his outfit was a chaotic disaster of colors and textures, like he'd gotten. dressed in the dark with a punk rock fever dream.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, finally understanding where all the danking was coming from. She eyed the chains hanging from his jacket and the gaudy accessories jingling with his every move.

And yet, against all odds, his chiseled features-deep-set eyes, sharp jawline-somehow made the fashion monstrosity work. He looked ridiculous to her, but in that bizarre, rebellious way that almost seemed cool.

Gregory seemed to be in a rush, his brow furrowing as he impatiently glanced at his watch. "Miss, I'm in a hurry. Have you decided where you want the autograph?" he asked, tapping his foot.

Eleanor took a small step back, clutching her sherbet protectively. She looked up at him, her large glasses obscuring any emotion in her eyes. "Sorry, but I'm not some fangirl. I don't need your autograph, she replied in a calm but firm tone.

Gregory's hand, mid-motion as he pulled out a pen, froze in the air. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Pointing to his own face, he practically gasped, "Wait. What do you mean you're not a fangirl? You don't know who I am?" His voice shot up a few octaves in sheer disbelief, the sound practically rattling Eleanor's eardrums. She nodded honestly. "That's right."

The moment she nodded, she could practically see the world crumbling in Gregory's eyes, like he couldn't fathom someone not recognizing him.

His chest heaved, and the polite, professional smile he had plastered on moments ago drooped into a pout. T'm the hottest thing right now. My face is on every billboard out there. Everywhere I go, people swoon. Look at me again, really look. There's no way you don't recognize this face."

He leaned i in closer, practically shoving his face toward hers as a proximity might jog her memory. Eleanor barely spared him a glance. "Still no idea," she said, unfazed. Somehow she oddly felt that she could hear the sound of Gregory's heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

He clutched his chest dramatically as if he'd been dealt a mortal blow. He pointed a shaky finger at her, baring his teeth like a wounded animal. "I get it now. This is on purpose, isn't it? You're messing with me.

"You're one You're of those diehard Samuel Vanderbilt fans, right? You're out here trying to tear me down just to give your idol a boost, huh? Keep dreaming, Well, let me tell you something. As long as I'm around, Samuel's got no shot at topping me."

Eleanor paused mid-bite of her sherbet, blinking in confusion. The name Samuel Vanderbilt rang a bell. After racking her brain for a few seconds, she remembered that he was her fifth brother. Sure, at the moment, Samuel wasn't an A-list actor yet, but he was definitely on the rise, with a few awards under his belt, It wasn't unusual for him to have rivals already. Gregory, misinterpreting her silence as guilt, folded his arms and sneered triumphantly, "Well, cat got your tongue? I knew it. You're one of those Samuel groupies, aren't you? I mean, come on, aside from Samuel's fans, how could anyone possibly have a problem with my stunningly handsome face?' He gesture dramatically to to himself.

He strode over to her, his towering height giving him an almost theatrical grace. Leaning down, he reached out and gently tapped her oversized glasses, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"You know, sweetie, you should get a new pair of glasses. Only someone with bad eyesight would go for someone as cold, distant, and boring as Samuel over a sweet guy like me. Seriously, you've got to work on your taste," he sneered

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at the man standing far too close for comfort, the intensity behind her glasses sharp enough to cut through steel. She didn't even think before smacking his hard away with a sharp slap, her gaze turning frigid like a cold wind blowing throughs the room. "That's none of your business, he said, her voice low and icy.

Samuel was her brother, even if they hadn't officially met yet. Ther, blood ties were blood ties, and no one got away with

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badmouthing him, not even this overconfident celebrity standing right in front of her. That slap could've easily been aimed. at his head, and honestly, she thought she was being generous for not doing so.

She couldn't help but smirk at the thought that if someone like Gregory could be a superstar in the entertainment industry, then it really wasn't that hard to see why her brother would end up dominating the scene as an award-winning actor.

Just when Eleanor expected Gregory, a complete lunatic in her eyes, to go ballistic after she swatted his hand away, she looked up and found him staring blankly at her wrist, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. His usually animated face was suddenly blank, and for once, he wasn't spouting something that seemed ridiculous to her. He just stood there, dumbstruck.

Puzzled, Eleanor followed his gaze and realized he was staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the very one Albert had slipped on her, a delicate piece she hadn't been able to take off since. She'd forgotten it was even there, yet now it seemed to shine with a significance she hadn't anticipated.