My Billion-Dollar Baby

After dying suddenly from overwork, I found myself transmigrated into the life of a fake heiress who had been cast out of her wealthy family.

While the real heiress reclaimed the life that had once been mine, I decided to leave the drama behind. Armed with my savings, I embraced a carefree lifestyle, swapping boyfriends every three days and living for the moment.

Then, two months later, life hit me with a curveball—I discovered I was pregnant.

The problem? I had no idea who the father was.

With no choice, I approached the three powerful CEOs I had been involved with, each more arrogant and competitive than the last. What followed was a 10-billion-dollar bet by each of the three over who the father might be, with me caught in the middle.

"I bet the baby belongs to all three of you," I teased, only for them to roll their eyes and dismiss me as ridiculous.

Even so, when I gave birth to triplets, their argument outside the delivery room went viral, sending the internet into a frenzy and turning my life—and theirs—into a spectacle.

"Congratulations, Ms. Jordan. You're already two months pregnant."

When I heard the doctor say this, I was completely dumbfounded.

Why? Well, that was because I had no idea who the father of the child was.

A little backstory—after two weeks of grueling overtime, I dropped dead. The last thing I remembered before passing out was the terrified look on my heartless boss' face.

My last thought had been, 'Shouldn't I at least squeeze a big payout out of him?' But it turned out I would not even get that chance—I was gone.

The good news? I did not actually die.

The bad news? I transmigrated into a novel.

Plus, it was not just into any character—I became the fake heiress, the foil to the female lead, who had just been kicked out of her wealthy family for framing the real heiress.

If I had arrived a second earlier, I might have had a chance to shamelessly beg for my place back.

The silver lining to all of this? I brought my years of secret savings with me.

I immediately checked my bank account on my phone, and when I saw millions in savings, I almost burst out laughing.

This was pocket change for a wealthy family. But to someone like me—a working stiff scraping by on a few thousand dollars a month—it felt like a fortune from the heavens.

Recalling the tragic end awaiting my character in the novel, I immediately decided to flee from the protagonists and embrace a life of carefree indulgence.

To relieve the stress of my sudden death and new life, I rushed to a bar and did something I had been dreaming of for ages. I spent my money like it was nothing, even hiring ten male models to give me the royal treatment.

The constant cries of my name around me melted my soul, and I completely forgot about