Annabelle Stone lay sprawled on her tattered blue couch, her face buried in her pillow. It wasn't exhaustion that kept her there, nor was it the stress of being a freshly graduated, unemployed fashion student. No, it was something far worse.
"BULLSHIT!" she screeched, throwing her phone across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed with a soft thud on her carpet.
She had just finished reading The Prince and the Poor Lady, a novel by her favorite author. Or, well, ex-favorite author. The story had been promising—a kidnapped noble girl raised as a servant, an epic reveal at a grand imperial banquet, and a revenge arc so juicy she could almost taste it.
Except the author had completely ruined it.
The supposed heroine, Elvianne Renar, turned out to be a green tea bitch of the highest order. Instead of Elara Voss—the tragic villainess—getting the redemption arc she deserved, she got crushed under the boot of "justice." And for what? Trying to reclaim the life stolen from her?
Annabelle had spent hours writing a passionate hate comment under the final chapter. "Why is the FL such a hypocrite? Why does Elara get NO redemption? What is this ending?! Trash! Garbage! Fire your editor!"
Her anger was a physical thing, pressing on her chest. She needed to cool down. Maybe tomorrow, she'd wake up to an apology from the author. Yes, that was reasonable. Authors totally did that.
With a deep sigh, she flopped onto her bed and drifted off to sleep, still grumbling about narrative injustice.