From Reader to Mother: The CEO and His Sons Can't Leave Me Alone

Chapter 1 - My Life Before Chaos

I swear, if anyone told me that my life would suddenly turn into one of the ridiculous romance novels I binge-read every single night, I would have laughed.

Out loud. And probably spilled my tea on my laptop.

Hi, I’m Arielle. Twenty years old. Obsessed with romance novels, CEO dramas, and basically anything that screams “Your life is about to get complicated, and your brain will melt.”

I live in what you might call a “normal” world.

Normal enough for me to scroll endlessly on my phone, ignoring work emails, ignoring responsibilities, and definitely ignoring the fact that my best friend keeps calling me a “future sad single woman” because I can’t stop reading stories about women who marry millionaires and then cry dramatically in penthouses.

But listen, these stories are life-changing.

Strategic. Educational. And emotionally exhausting.

I was curled up in my favorite corner of the couch—legs tucked under me like a real-life pretzel, with a giant mug of tea in one hand and my phone in the other—when I stumbled on the newest update of a story.

One of those stories. The kind that makes you question humanity and also your own taste in men.

“The female lead, divorced by her CEO husband, ignored by her four sons, and completely abandoned… will she survive?”

I blinked.

Four sons? CEO husband? My brain immediately started calculating the logistics.

“Okay, hold up. Four sons, all hot. One probably a CEO in training. One a doctor. One a biker-type rebel. One… some idol-y guy who probably makes girls scream at concerts. And the mother—tragic, sad, probably crying over handkerchiefs.”

I tilted my phone like I could somehow absorb the plot through osmosis.

“You know what? I am going to need to take notes. Or snacks. Definitely snacks. This story is going to be chaotic. Delicious, chaotic.”

My phone buzzed.

Work message. Ha! As if I ever pay attention during my tea-reading sessions.

Anyway, there I was, fully immersed in someone else’s misery, when I realized I had, for the third time today, whispered dramatically to myself:

“Why does this always happen to her? Like, can’t the author give her a break?

Or at least a normal, low-key husband who just…

exists without plotting angst?”

I was literally laughing at my own commentary, and yes, yes, I probably scared the neighbor’s cat when I flailed with my tea.

And then, like any normal reader, I kept scrolling.

I kept reading. And somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I thought:

“Wow… if I were in her shoes, I could totally do better. I’d survive this.

Maybe even… thrive.”

Little did I know…

That thought was going to become very, very literal.

Because the next thing I knew, I wasn’t curled up on my couch with my tea.

I wasn’t staring at my phone. I wasn’t even thinking about ridiculous plot twists.

I was somewhere else. Somewhere… strange.

Luxurious. And silent.

“Okay… relax,” I whispered to myself.

“You’re probably dreaming. Just a nap.

Maybe the tea was too strong. Or… maybe this is an elaborate sleep-deprivation hallucination.

”

I rolled over. The bed was enormous.

The sheets smelled… expensive. Like perfume and silk and probably money.

I sat up—and that’s when I saw them.

Four men. Four ridiculously handsome men, standing in my bedroom, staring at me like I had personally offended the universe.

“Mom…”

What.

“Excuse me?”

“Mom, are you okay?”

I froze.

I blinked. My brain short-circuited. I grabbed the nearest thing—my phone.

Only… it wasn’t my phone. It was… nothing.

And that’s when it hit me. That thought I had while reading novels?

That I could totally survive in her shoes…

apparently, the universe decided to test me.

I wasn’t reading about her anymore.

I was her.