Blurb：
I transmigrated into a trashy romance novel as the doomed stand-in for the male lead’s true love, Sophia. Instead of playing the victim, I turned the tables on CEO Liam Jone. Now, I’m his personal dating coach, teaching him how to win back “The One That Got Away.” But first, he needs to prove his worth—starting with a shirtless photo. If he can’t even impress me, what hope does he have with Sophia? Watch as I rewrite this cliché story, turning the arrogant CEO into the man Sophia deserves. Will Liam learn loyalty, or will his secrets destroy his chances?
Content：
Transmigrated as the Stand-In, I’m Coaching the CEO on Love
If I’m just her replacement, then prove it. Send me a picture of your abs.
If you can’t even impress me, what hope do you have with her?
I transmigrated into heroine of a trashy romance novel. The doomed kind.
In this story, I’m the understudy for the male lead’s one true love—”The One That Got Away.” He treats me like a doormat, and the original me, bless her heart, takes it all, believing her love will change him.
My role is to be his live-in maid, personal chef, and emotional punching bag while enduring snide remarks from his friends.
The grand finale? The real deal, his idealized ex, comes back, makes my life hell, and he dumps me to win her favor.
I end up dead from some tragic illness, and he has a last-minute epiphany about losing his “true love.”
I just lost my life, but he lost his love!
Apparently, my life was a cheap price for his moment of clarity.
Not happening. I’m rewriting the script..
CI’ve just entered the story. Liam Jone, your typical arrogant CEO, gave me $30,000 a month to be his substitute girlfriend.
Liam’s appearance was quite good, fitting all the stereotypes of a domineering CEO:
He laid out the terms: “You’ll live here. Manage the household. Be here when I get back.”
“I have university classes,” I stated.
“Drop out.”
That’s exactly what the original me did, cutting off all her prospects to become his dedicated servant. A dead end I’m keen to avoid.
“Mr. Jone, I heard you chose me because I bear a resemblance to your ex, Sophia.”
His eyes narrowed slightly at her name. “If you’re still so hung up on her, why hire a look-alike? Doesn’t that seem a little… disrespectful to her memory?”
He moved to push me onto the couch but paused, thrown by my question. “That’s not your concern.”
“I disagree. A man’s value are in his integrity and loyalty.”
“Sophia just went abroad, it’s not like she died. If she comes back and finds out you had a lover, how disappointed would she be!”
“Let’s be blunt. In my book, this sort of behavior is just sad. You’re torpedoing any real chance you might have had with her.”
Liam looked like he’d just been handed a handbook on morals he never knew existed.
“”And you can’t hide it,” I pressed, shaking my head. “Secrets always leak. Plus, let’s not forget this is a financial transaction. Crossing certain lines could land you in legal hot water. Not a good look for a CEO or your company’s stock price.”
“You didn’t hesitate to take the money,” he countered flatly, though he did take a step back.
“I’m trying to do you a favor. Since I have the face you’re fixated on, I can help you get over your… fixation. But not by being a substitute. Think of me as your personal dating coach.”
He scoffed. “A dating coach?”
“Exactly. I’ll teach you how to actually win her over.” I shifted how I looked at him.
The original story said that when I looked up, I resembled her especially.
“Don’t think of me as a substitute. You need conviction—from now on, I am Sophia. Imagine if she were here right now, what would you do?”
Liam smoked, his eyes somewhat dazed: “…She’s never been here.”
Tch, useless simp.
“Well, I’m here now,” I said, softening my voice to mimic a gentle tone I imagined Sophia might use. “So, what would you do?”
Liam, captivated by my face in the dim light, leaned in to kiss me.
I smacked him away.
“Kissing without the girl’s permission is assault.”
My expression turned stern, all business. “New lesson. Go to the bathroom, wet your shirt, show some abs. I need to assess the raw material.”
Liam was still stunned from the slap, looking completely shocked.
I didn’t wait, steering him toward the bathroom and orchestrating a quick photo shoot. I even messed up his shirt buttons for that perfect blend of polished and vulnerable. The result was CEO-meets-calendar-model. Clara herself would have to be impressed.
I tossed the phone to him: “Send it to her.”
Liam avoided eye contact: “…I can’t do that.”
“Have you ever pursued a girl before? Had a normal relationship?”
A flash of embarrassment and anger crossed his face. Bingo.
I smiled. “Then you need my help even more. I’ll simulate interactions with Sophia. I’ll teach you what women want to hear, how they want to be treated. You’ll gain confidence and skill. When she comes back, you’ll be ready. And this,” I gestured between us, “is strictly professional. A service with a contract. No feelings, no contact. Your precious conscience stays clean.”
Liam thought about it: “Fine. We’ll try it your way.”
“Then now I need to go back, you’ll drive me.”
“What?”
I checked my watch: “It’s past eleven. A gentleman never lets a woman travel alone this late. And remember,” I said, tapping my cheek, “right now, I’m Sophia. You wouldn’t send Sophia home in a taxi, would you?”
He stared at my face, the face he couldn’t say no to, and finally grabbed his keys.
Later, I changed my social media profile to mirror Sophia’s and sent him a message: You were on your best behavior tonight. I’m impressed.
Liam replied a minute later: Goodnight.
That’s the secret with men like this. Sacrifice everything for them, and they see you as cheap. But set your own price, make them pay for your time, and they start treating you with respect.
Sometimes, they even thank you for it.
The next morning, I took the initiative and texted him ‘Good morning.’ Liam replied with a simple ‘Morning,’ followed by an invitation to lunch.
I got ready and timed my arrival perfectly, sliding into the passenger seat of his Bentley.
“Good start today. You replied promptly, took the initiative to ask me out, and the car choice is impeccable. However…” I smiled, letting my eyes trail over him appraisingly.
“However what?” he asked, a flicker of unease in his voice.
“That haircut needs a refresh.” I held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before politely looking away.
For the first time, Liam was on the receiving end of a thorough, evaluating female gaze. He looked slightly unnerved, unconsciously reaching up to touch his hair. For the rest of the drive, I caught him sneaking glances at his reflection in the rearview mirror, trying to pinpoint the flaw..
The power of a look is a real thing. Men are accustomed to being the observers, the ones who set the standards for women’s appearances. By openly critiquing him, I was subtly shifting the dynamic, establishing who was really in charge here..
I maintained this upper hand throughout lunch.
“The restaurant is nice, the food is delicious, and you’re very gentlemanly. But I get the sense you’re not great at keeping a woman entertained with conversation,” I remarked, taking a sip of water. “Were you this quiet with Sophia too?”
Liam coughed, slightly embarrassed. “I’m… not sure what to talk about with women.”
“Compliment me.” I leaned forward, looking into his eyes.
He seemed confused, blushing slightly: “…You look very beautiful today.”
“Continue.”
He turned away: “Your style is… simple and elegant.”
“Better. Adding a specific detail is more effective than a generic compliment. What else?”
He struggled for a long time: “Your lipstick shade is nice.”
Seeing he was tapped out, I looked down to cut my steak. “So, were you busy this morning?”
“It was alright.”
“Tell me about work. I’m genuinely curious. I’ve never met another CEO; you’re my only reference point.”
I propped my chin, looking at him with genuine interest.
Liam started talking about his work. I guided the conversation with questions and sprinkled in praise. Before he knew it, he was sharing quite a bit.
“See?” I pointed out at the end. “You guide the other person to talk about themselves, you listen actively and show appreciation. It makes them feel interesting and valued, which naturally brings you closer.”
Catching on, Liam turned the tables. “So, what did you do this morning?”
“Thought about you,” I answered without missing a beat.
His eyes darted away, a faint blush coloring his handsome cheeks as he tried to hide his reaction.
I lowered my eyelids, calmly cutting another piece of steak. “Just a little technique.”
All in all, I was fairly satisfied with the date. In the original novel, the stand-in never got taken on proper dates. She wasn’t even deemed worthy of a decent meal.
It wasn’t about whether he loved me or not; it was about whether I had basic dignity in his eyes, whether I deserved to be treated seriously.
That thought lingered, so I made him carry my tote bag for me, chiding him for his lack of attentiveness.
Seeing the powerful CEO holding my simple canvas bag was a sight, albeit a handsome one.
Back at the dorm, Linda splashed a cup of water in my face: “Clara, I heard you hooked up with my brother. You’re so shameless.”
Linda was Liam’s sister.
Every tragic female lead needs an awful sister-in-law to make her life miserable, and she played the part perfectly.
Sophia was their childhood friend; I was the outsider, the social climber in her eyes. In the original story, she regularly bullied and humiliated the protagonist.
“You think just because you look a bit like Sophia it means anything? Being a stand-in just proves you’ll never be anything more than a cheap imitation!” she screamed.
I wiped the water off my face and called Liam.
I didn’t cry or yell. I simply asked if he was free that evening.
“I am. Where do you want to eat?”
“Going out isn’t sincere enough,” I licked the water droplets off my lips, said right in front of Linda, “I’ll come to your place tonight, you cook for me.”
Then I hung up.
Linda lost it, screeching like a kettle: “How could my brother let you into his house? And cook for you? Is he crazy? What gives you the right?!”
I smirked: “Guess.”
“You bitch, You think I can’t make one call and get you expelled?!”
The Lin family was indeed powerful and influential.
Soon, my academic advisor summoned me. He lectured me sternly about my “conduct.”
“I accepted you into this program for your academic potential, yet you’re out there courting scandal with some wealthy man! Sports cars, rumors… is your mind even on your studies anymore?”
In the original story, the advisor helped Linda make the protagonist’s life miserable, ruining her reputation until she had to drop out and become Liam’s kept woman.
“Did I not do the projects? Not record the data? Who stays in the lab late every time?” I challenged him. “You’re ready to condemn me based on gossip? Is licking the Linda’s boots really that rewarding?”
Advisors hold power over students’ futures. He’d never been talked back to like this. Furious, he kicked me out of the lab.
It was deep autumn, chilly. Standing in the hallway, I realized my clothes were still wet.
The associate professor next door, Dr. Evelyn, took pity, led me to her office, found me dry clothes: “Change into these.”
Looking at her refined, plain face, I vaguely remembered her name was Evelyn, one of the few side characters in the original who showed the protagonist kindness.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get much page time. I only knew she was stuck as an associate professor, couldn’t get promoted.
“Angering your advisor like that… it could really jeopardize your degree,” she said softly, handing me a cup of coffee.”
Even if I get it, so what? Master’s graduates still can’t find jobs these days.”
“Besides, I’m a girl. If I want to stay in academia, you know how it is—you understand better than anyone.” I held the coffee, glancing at her:
“Dr. Evelyn, I have a project with good prospects, clients ready. Are you interested in hearing about it?”
That evening, Liam picked me up: “Did Linda bully you?”
Linda loved tattling to Liam, bad-mouthing me. If I explained, it sounded like excuses; excuses meant guilt, making Liam despise me more.
“She relies on you a lot. Seeing you pay attention to me, she’s probably just feeling protective of her big brother. It’s fine, really. But…” I paused strategically..
“But what?”
“Linda really wants to break into the entertainment industry. She’s neglecting her studies, running off to auditions all the time. It’s a shame—her grades used to be so good..”
A few carefully chosen words, I made Liam frown.
In the original, Linda actually became a top actress later.
What nonsense—a A-lister earning 2.08 million a day? How did all the good fortune land on the Jones?
I was determined to change her fate: “In our class, girls from families like hers usually go abroad for further studies.”
“You’re right,” Liam agreed deeply.
Good, send her abroad, keep her there for three or four years. By the time she returns, she’ll be too old for the entertainment industry.
We went to the supermarket, then back to Liam’s suburban villa.
Modern women, especially someone like Sophia, expect to be partners, not personal chefs. You’re not trying to win her over just to have her cook and clean for you, right?”
“We’d hire help, of course,” Liam said naturally.
I almost laughed. So you know about hiring help now, do you? Then why did the original me have to cook soup for you for three years?!
“A man who can cook is a huge plus. It suggests he’s domestic and has a romantic side. Since your work schedule is demanding, leaving little time for grand gestures, mastering the art of home-cooked meals is my advice”
Liam took off his suit, tied an apron over his white shirt: “I used to cook when studying abroad, but I’m rusty now.”
“I can’t wait to judge the results.”
I sat lazily on a bar stool, chin in hand, spinning slightly as I watched him busy in the kitchen.
Ah, how the tables had turned! Here he was, finally making a meal for me. The satisfaction was immense.
Having studied overseas, Liam was surprisingly proficient at Western cuisine.
I praised him: “Presentation, aroma, taste—all great. No major issues. Just find out what Sophia likes to eat and cater to her preferences.”
“She likes spicy food, strong flavors,” Liam said with a hint of nostalgia.
This detail stuck in my craw. In the original story, he never noticed what the protagonist liked to eat. Yet he remembered that Clara could handle habanero peppers. It was never about a poor memory; it was about a lack of interest.
Why would he bother remembering the preferences of someone he took for granted?
That’s quite a specific preference. You’ll need to be mindful of balancing that with nutrition. Your own cooking is quite rich—lots of cream and butter. Have you had your cholesterol checked recently?”
He seemed caught off guard. “My cholesterol?”
“With your stressful job, limited time for exercise, and a diet that likely involves rich business dinners… it’s something to watch. How were the results from your last physical?”
“…They were within acceptable ranges,” he said, though he seemed more thoughtful now.
“You’re almost thirty, right? Not young anymore, need to take care of yourself.”
Liam looked shocked, as if never expecting to be called old by a young college girl like me.
“But biotechnology is advanced now. You can maintain a 25-year-old’s physiology. It’s popular among Silicon Valley elites to have dedicated personal medical teams using supplements and meds to stay energetic. A professor in our department just started a project like that.”
Liam wasn’t initially interested, but I knew all his issues: insomnia, stomach problems, allergies…
I kept negging him, saying he had dark circles, looked lethargic, even had wrinkles—must be dampness invading! Then, when the time was right, I recommended Evelyn to him.
Our department was one of the “four heavenly pitfalls”—materials science. Evelyn did drug research, prescribed him some supplements.
He felt better. Evelyn assembled a personal doctor and nutritionist team, monitoring his health daily, feeding him pills.
I wasn’t idle either—ran around registering a company under the department, got policy support for student startups, leveraged school resources for permits.
By the time Liam and Evelyn signed contracts, I was already a co-founder of CyberBio Tech.
“I’ve been feeling much better lately. Sleep quality is good, energetic during the day. With better focus, work is easier, I even have time to exercise now,” Liam said, glowing.
I smiled: “I told you, Professor Evelyn is a professional.”
“So what’s the cost?” Liam asked her.
“Two million,” Evelyn said slowly, curling her lips. “Annually.”
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