The Devil's Favorite Villainess

The pain hit her first.

A sharp, twisting ache in her skull, followed by the sensation of silk sheets that were far too smooth to be her own. Cassandra blinked rapidly, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim, golden-lit room around her. Where the hell was she?

Her fingers curled instinctively, brushing against embroidered fabric. Velvet cushions. Polished marble floors. A chandelier the size of her old apartment hung above her like a glass monster.

This wasn’t her world.

She sat up fast, heart thundering. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but the panic was stronger. She stared down at her body. Slimmer. Paler. Nails manicured into dagger-like tips. A silk robe clung to curves she didn’t remember having.

Then, her eyes caught the reflection in the full-length mirror across the room.

The woman staring back was beautiful—in that expensive, cold way villains always looked in TV dramas. Blood-red lips. Glacial brown eyes. Dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. She looked dangerous. Elegant. Lethal.

It wasn’t her body… but she knew whose it was.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I’m the villainess.”

The memories came next—crashing like a tsunami. Her name was Cassandra Ellis. She was the unloved daughter of a middle-class man who married her off to one of the most feared mafia bosses in the country. A man who was supposed to fall in love with her innocent younger sister, Anika, the real heroine of the story.

But Cassandra?

She was doomed to be hated, discarded, and eventually assassinated after trying to interfere in their love story.

“...No. No-no-no. This can’t be real.”

She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet landing softly on the cold marble. She moved to the window and yanked the curtain open.

Outside was a high-walled estate. Guards with earpieces. Roses blooming in manicured rows. Security cameras. Black cars. A city skyline in the distance.

It was real. Terrifyingly real.

She turned from the window, heart hammering.

Think. THINK.

This wasn’t just a dream. She’d read this book before. It was a romance thriller she barely finished because the real Cassandra had annoyed her so much—always scheming, always jealous. The girl who tried to seduce the mafia boss, only to die by poison while Anika cried over her corpse.

And now she was that girl.

A knock broke her thoughts.

She froze. “Yes?”

The door opened a sliver.

A maid in black stepped in, lowering her eyes. “Madam, the boss requests your presence in the study.”

Her blood went cold.

The boss.

Dante Luciano Volkov—cold-hearted heir of the Volkov mafia empire. Known as “The Devil in a Suit.” Ruthless. Brilliant. Deadly.

He was the same man who, in the novel, fell in love with Anika after she saved his life as a teenager. But Cassandra knew something the original villainess didn’t:

The real savior... had been her.

Or rather, this body.

Plot twist, she thought. I’m the girl he met in the past—the one who saved him when he was running from assassins. And yet... he doesn’t know it’s me.

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” she said coolly, mimicking the poise of the villainess she was expected to be.

The maid bowed and left.

Cassandra turned to the closet, throwing open the doors. Inside hung rows of dresses—silk, lace, leather, blood-reds and raven blacks. She smirked. “Alright then. If I’m going to die in this story... I’ll at least look stunning doing it.”

But she had no plans to die.

She was going to survive. Rewrite the ending. And maybe… maybe even steal the story for herself.

🕷️ Ten Minutes Later – Dante’s Study

He was more intimidating in person.

Dante stood behind his desk, suit tailored perfectly, sleeves rolled up to expose the veins in his forearms. Black tattoos coiled beneath his wrist like whispers of danger. His eyes were midnight. Cold. Calculating.

He didn’t smile.

“You took your time,” he said, voice low.

Cassandra stepped inside the study like it was a red carpet, her heels clicking softly against the wood. She wore a wine-red dress with a high slit, no shame in the way she moved. If she was going to play the villainess, she’d do it flawlessly.

“Didn’t realize I was on your schedule, husband,” she said sweetly.

His jaw tightened.

They were married, yes. But it was political—an arranged match between the Ellis family and the Volkovs. No love. No affection. And definitely no trust.

Dante watched her like a snake. “I don’t like surprises, Cassandra. Especially not when they show up in my business meetings, threaten my men, and make enemies out of allies.”

“Oh, please.” She sank onto the chair across from him. “He was trying to touch my thigh. I simply educated him.”

“You broke his hand.”

“Like I said—education.”

For a second, his lips twitched. But he didn’t smile.

There was silence.

Cassandra folded her legs, meeting his gaze without fear. She could feel the power radiating off him—the kind of man who could order someone’s death before finishing his espresso.

But she wasn’t scared.

Because she knew something no one else did.

This wasn’t his story anymore.

It was hers.
📝 Author’s Note

So… our villainess has officially arrived. And she didn’t come to beg for love—she came to steal the spotlight, seduce the devil, and burn the original plot to ash. 🔥💋

Cassandra isn’t the helpless side character anymore.
She’s the main event.
And Dante? Well... let’s just say, the devil might’ve just met his match.

💭 What did you think of Cassandra’s entrance?
Would you survive in her heels—or set the whole mansion on fire first? 👠🖤
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— alexandr44ite

Pls do not judge me. I'm still an amateur writer. If you see any mistakes do point it out politely. Any negative comments will be deleted.