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Id	Vlad	Saved	Scrape Time	Status	Scrape Result	Title	Body	Cta Type	Link Url	Page Name	Page Profile Uri	Page Like Count	Enddate	Cta Text	Caption	Display Format	Link Description	Link Url	Creation Time	Page Profile Picture Url	Page Entity Type	Current Page Name	Startdate	Actions
2,679,694	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2679689}'	No	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Wear Art, Not Just a Hat	A masterpiece on your head.	SHOP_NOW	https://kosstom.com/en-us/products/eugenia-in-blac	Kosstom	https://www.facebook.com/kosstomhat/	62	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	kosstom.com	CAROUSEL	A masterpiece on your head.	https://kosstom.com/en-us/products/eugenia-in-black?_pos=2&_sid=431d41c28&_ss=r&variant=42330379223212_pos=2&_sid=431d41c28&_ss=r&variant=42331097727148	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475645899_1292885961983454_672095985673590361_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=JhbM_wjZaewQ7kNvgG8M3RP&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-1.fna&_nc_gid=A8H35E_EYNFn3WspLX65ljl&oh=00_AYBA2pb0oyPgHPPRe4TjSbPTOKdaEAOxrHTsDmYVI-j1ow&oe=67A64CD0	PERSON_PROFILE	Kosstom	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,679,706	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451		Rumors claimed she was an uneducated, hot-tempered bumpkin. She sneered and revealed her true identity as a renowned designer, gaming pro, celebrated artist, and business tycoon, leaving everyone stunned! ===== "We're here to escort you home, Miss Morgan." "Your parents have been tirelessly searching for you over the years. Upon discovering your whereabouts, they promptly dispatched us to ensure your return." Fernanda Morgan surveyed the men in crisply tailored suits who stood before her, he appeared to be a butler. "Moreover, the Harper family is keenly anticipating your return. You are to be engaged to Mr. Harper once you return!" "Alright then. Let's go," Fernanda agreed with a slight nod. She collected her already-packed belongings and stepped into the vehicle. The journey from the small town of Zhota to Esaham was a long one, spanning at least two days by car. As dusk enveloped the sky, they pulled into another small town. The butler located a modestly appealing motel and proposed they stay overnight. Fernanda's accommodation was at the far end of the second-floor hallway, Room 201--arguably the best room available. The butler and the rest of their group opted to stay on the lower floor. The night was unusually warm and dry, rendering the room's aging air conditioner useless. Fernanda opened the window to invite a cool breeze, causing the curtains to dance gently in the evening air. Fresh from her shower, she dimmed the lights and crawled into bed for the night. Drifting into a light sleep, she was jolted awake by a disturbance outside. A subsequent noise at the window snapped her to full alert. As she bolted upright, a shadowy figure burst through, launching itself onto her bed. The freezing touch of a blde hovered at her neck as a low, threatening voice growled, "Don't you dare move." Immobile, Fernanda's body clenched in fear. The faint, iron tang of bld lingered on the man's sleeve--a grim reminder of his dangerousness. This unmistakable hint solidified the fact: this man was no one to mess with. Outside, the commotion intensified. Shortly after, a forceful knock resonated at the door. A coarse voice demanded, "Is anyone there? Open up now!" As the voice still echoed, the knfe at Fernanda's neck dug in slightly deeper. The man's voice dripped with malice as he warned, "Get rid of them, or you're as good as dead." His right arm ensnared her waist, his left hand unwavering with the knfe at her throat. Through his firm grip and calculated movements, Fernanda realized he was deadly serious. Cornered, she knew she had to play along for the time being. "Sure." With a soft, steady voice, Fernanda reassured him. "It'll all be okay." With no answer from inside, the outsiders used a master key to unlock the door and stormed in. At the sound, the man jerked Fernanda's baggy T-shirt, pulling her down onto his lap and encircling her with his arm, forcing her to straddle him as he shifted position. Right then, the door flung open, and a stark beam of flashlight flooded the room. Fernanda let out a panicked scream, quickly bending over the man to obscure him from view. "Sweetheart, what the hell is this place? How could anyone have the audacity to barge in like that?" Acting as though she was terrified, Fernanda held onto the man, her grip firm and desperate. Her voice, usually sweet and enticing, now carried an edge of annoyance mingled with a breathless charm that was utterly captivating. Suddenly, Fernanda felt the man beneath her tense up. Seconds later, he encircled her with his arm and expertly flipped over, drawing the blanket over both their bodies. As the blanket slid, its soft whispers merged with the steady rhythm of their breaths, painting a scene of understated sensuality. Faces flushed with embarrassment, the group at the door stood stiffly, unprepared for the private display before them. Nonetheless, the couple inside the room showed no signs of halting their intimate exchange. The motel's security guard chuckled uncomfortably, "Looks like they're pretty busy... Maybe we ought to leave, huh?" One of the men brushed past the guard and entered the room with a purposeful stride. Fernanda's heartbeat skyrocketed as she heard the footsteps drawing near. Could they actually be contemplating unveiling them? A chilling blde pressed against her side, its pointed tip grazing her skin, sending a shiver through her already tense body. The footsteps halted next to the bed, and with a surge of courage, Fernanda leaned in closer to the man beneath her. Pulled back gently, the blanket gave way to the flashlight's piercing light, exposing a glimpse of her delicate, bre back. In the softness of the bed, their movements continued unabated. Fernanda's lips met his in a fervent kiss, her hair cascading down to obscure his face, while his hand gently caressed her side. The subdued mns that slipped from their lips lent the scene an air of genuine intimacy. Abruptly, a voice erupted from beyond the room, piercing the tranquility. "Boss! Something's going down out on the street!" Instantly, the man at the bedside sprang to his feet and vanished through the door. With the door slamming behind him, Fernanda disentangled herself and slipped from the bed. Moonlight seeped through a crack in the curtains, casting delicate shadows across the room. The man watched as Fernanda's slender figure was silhouetted against the pale light. Memories of earlier washed over him; his fingers traced her skin, so smooth and velvety. She had gripped his arms, her delicate skin pressing softly against his. Her hair had brushed his face, each strand silky, carrying a subtle fragrance. Her voice had been a soft melody, soothing to his ears. This woman was serene and astute. Amid the intrusion, rather than succumb to panic, she had pressed her lips to his, a kiss so convincing it had deceived the pursuers. Her technique was rather clumsy, only pressing her lips against his without any other movement--evidently her first kiss. Breaking the ensuing quiet, the man's voice softened from its usual sternness to a rasp tinged with allre. "Was that your first kiss?" Chapter 2 That's Gross With deliberate movements, Fernanda pulled out a piece of clothing from her suitcase, her voice sharp and cool. "This is none of your concern. I think it's time for you to leave." All she desired at that moment was to hasten the man's departure. Barely a moment before, when he had embraced her, his fingers had brushed against her back, lingering just a moment too long. The calluses on his fingertips were coarse, betraying more wear than most. His adeptness with a knife and his swift reflexes hinted at a background that was far from ordinary. Cutting off the thought immediately, Fernanda dismissed any curiosity about his background. From below, the blare of a car horn shattered the silence. The man stood up smoothly. During their earlier intimacy, he had loosened his shirt, though his trousers remained crisply in place. He buttoned his shirt as he approached the window and casually tossed something to Fernanda. "My apologies for any discomfort caused earlier. Consider this your compensation," he said with a nod. With the graceful precision of a panther, he sprang out of the window. Fernanda approached the window, peering out into the night where, under the faint illumination of the streetlights, she observed him scale the wall effortlessly. He navigated the ledges until he merged with the shadows. She stooped to retrieve the object he had left--a sleek black card. The night's disruptions had been met with suitable compensation--a fair recompense. Fernanda pocketed the card and drew the curtains closed. The following morning, the butler approached Fernanda with a look of concern etched across his face. "Miss Morgan, I hope you managed to rest last night. There was an inspection for a burglary, which stirred quite the disturbance." She shrugged casually and muttered, "It was fine." As they drove, the butler stole glances at Fernanda through the rearview mirror. Reclined in her seat, she gazed out the window, her elegant profile cast in contemplative silence. He mused quietly to himself that she did not embody the typical country-raised youth. Her calm sophistication and graceful demeanor set her apart, enhancing her natural charm and making her an effortlessly endearing presence. After two days of travel, Fernanda stepped into the bustling streets of Esaham. The city was a teeming metropolis, alive with vibrant streets and a relentless stream of traffic. Shortly after 8 a.m., a stretch Lincoln limousine glided into the upscale estate of Dawn Villas, coming to a halt in front of a majestic three-story white villa. Stepping gracefully from the limousine, Fernanda let her eyes wander over the grandeur of the building before her. The villa, both opulent and imposing, was a testament to vast wealth. Her lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile as she gave it a scrutinizing glance. This was her father Robert Morgan's residence. From humble beginnings, he had climbed to wealth and status with her late mother's support. After amassing his fortune, Robert had coldly cast aside her mother, choosing to revel in a relationship with his mistress. That woman--Michelle Morgan--had contributed nothing to his success, yet she now sat smugly in the seat Fernanda's mother had rightfully earned. She basked in the luxuries and respect that were never hers to claim. Worse still, Michelle had dared to flaunt her victory, parading her stolen life before Fernanda's grieving mother, a cruelty that had ultimately led to Fernanda's mother's untimely death. To the world, Michelle was seen as Robert's second wife, a symbol of grace and charm. Michelle even had the audacity to claim she was Fernanda's real mother. But Fernanda knew better. Behind the polished veneer lay the truth, raw and unforgiving. Fernanda's dark eyes momentarily hardened, a flicker of steely determination glinting within them. Her mother was no longer here to seek justice, but Fernanda vowed she would deliver it on her behalf. Just then, the villa's grand door swung open, revealing the pair responsible for the upheaval in her life. Robert stood tall and pristine, the sharp lines of his tailored suit accentuating his stature. His gold-rimmed glasses reflected the warm light, adding an air of calculated sophistication. At his side was Michelle, the very picture of elegance. Her fitted dress clung perfectly to her poised figure, exuding refinement and composure. "Fernanda, you've come back." Robert greeted warmly, a smile playing on his lips as he waved her over. "Come in." Fernanda's eyes darted downward, concealing the storm of emotions swirling within her. With a tentative step, she moved closer. Robert, with an arm encircling Michelle's waist, introduced her with a gesture. "Fernanda, this is your mother." With a casual wave toward the living room, he remarked, "And that's Erika, your sister." On the couch, Erika Morgan was engaged with the television, only looking up when Fernanda approached. Her eyes narrowed judgmentally at Fernanda's plain dress, her face contorting into a sneer. With an exaggerated eye-roll and a sarcastic tone, Erika muttered, "That country bumpkin? Dad, she's no sister of mine." Michelle approached Fernanda with a warm smile, linking her arm with Fernanda's. "Oh, Fernanda, Erika's just teasing. Pay her no mind. I've prepared breakfast for you. You must be starving. Let's have something to eat." Silently, Fernanda slipped her arm free and strode with determined steps into the dining room. Michelle paused, her smile faltering as a shadow of confusion crossed her face. She turned to Robert, her voice tinged with concern. "Robert, what's gotten into her?" He sighed, his voice a blend of empathy and resignation, "Fernanda was raised in the countryside. She's a bit unrefined, that's all. It's nothing against you, Michelle." Michelle nodded slowly, a soft smile reclaiming her features. "No worries," she murmured, her resolve firming. "I'll guide her as she settles in, teach her the essentials of elegance, and shape her into a poised young woman." Robert gave a supportive pat on her back, his expression one of appreciative assurance. In the dining room, Michelle seated herself next to Fernanda. "Fernanda, you must try this beef," she insisted, placing a tender slice onto Fernanda's plate. "It's Erika's favorite." Fernanda responded by promptly lifting the beef from her plate and dropping it into an empty plate with a clear look of disgust. "That's gross," she stated flatly, her voice void of any warmth. Chapter 3 How Could You Lie? The moment those words left Fernanda's lips, the entire table came to a standstill, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Erika, her patience fraying, brought her hand down hard on the table and demanded, "Country bumpkin, what are you even saying? My mom was kind enough to offer you this beef, and you have the nerve to be rude about it?" Fernanda met their astonished looks with a mask of feigned innocence. "I was clearly referring to the beef," she said with a deliberate pause. "It's raw and quite frankly, it looks unappetizing. What else could I possibly mean?" "You..." Erika's retort faltered, caught in her throat. Admitting that she thought Fernanda was insulting Michelle was out of the question. With a slow, calculated blink, Fernanda went on, "Unless, perhaps, you think there's something even more gross on this table than the raw beef?" At this, Erika's face registered sheer astonishment, and for a split second, her voice seemed to have deserted her entirely. Not a single word could she muster. It was Michelle who broke the awkward silence, interjecting smoothly, "Fernanda, the dish you're referring to is called beef tartare. It's a renowned delicacy made from top-notch beef and a pasteurized egg, typically found in high-end dining establishments. Perhaps it's something you've not had the opportunity to try before." Her voice subtly implied that Fernanda's simpler past might not have included such refined culinary experiences. Fernanda allowed a mischievous smirk to play at the corners of her lips and replied, "Our ancestors honed an array of sophisticated recipes and techniques. They certainly didn't refine these culinary arts for us to regress to consuming raw meat as if we were lost in the wild." Michelle's expression briefly betrayed a touch of discomfort, yet she managed to sustain a polite smile, nodding her agreement somewhat rigidly. "You bring up a valid point, I'll give you that." "I agree. I'm not fond of beef tartare either," Robert added with a nod, his gaze settling on Fernanda with evident pride. "I've always preferred classic tastes myself. It seems Fernanda has inherited that from me." Fernanda offered a subdued smile, delicately wiping her fork on a napkin after attempting the beef tartare, then resumed eating with a composed demeanor, seemingly unaffected by Erika's glaring resentment. Michelle suddenly ventured a soft query. "Fernanda, which university are you attending these days? Erika is at Luminary University, one of the top schools in the country. What about you?" At this, Erika's face morphed into a self-satisfied grin. Robert's tone grew cooler as he intervened on Fernanda's behalf. "I've spoken to a few contacts back in Fernanda's hometown. Currently, she isn't enrolled in any university." Michelle's eyes went wide, her voice cutting through the silence as she blurted, "What did you just say? Fernanda isn't attending any university? That simply cannot be! What will happen when the Harpers find out? Mrs. Harper had just mentioned a few days ago that they were planning a grand welcome party for Fernanda upon her return. If they learn she's not enrolled anywhere, it could be disastrous." Robert intervened, his tone laced with irritation, cutting through Michelle's rising panic. "Enough. I will take care of Fernanda's education myself." From the corner, Erika couldn't suppress a snicker. Imagining Fernanda managing to sneak into some low-ranked school through connections was downright amusing to her. The Harper family, celebrating the arrival of what Erika considered a rural nobody, was an absurd thought. Fernanda's crude and graceless demeanor would certainly earn their disapproval the moment they saw her. Erika found Bobby Harper quite charming, but his family's insistence on honoring their promise to engage him to Fernanda and pushing Robert to reintegrate Fernanda into their circles seemed ridiculously foolish to her. She was convinced that the Harper family would never develop an affinity for someone as lacking in education as Fernanda. The mood around the table grew tense as they discussed Fernanda's academic prospects. Amidst the awkward silence, Fernanda herself reached for a napkin, dabbing at her lips gracefully. "I have already registered to take the entrance exam for Esaham University," she announced, her voice steady and clear. "Assuming all goes well, I plan to attend there in the near future." Erika was caught off guard and, for a moment, was speechless before she burst into unrestrained laughter. The idea that Esaham University, the most prestigious in the nation where seats were as coveted as gold, would allow Fernanda to take the entrance exam was laughable. Clearly, this was a lie. Robert's demeanor hardened, his eyes narrowing with a frosty glare. He furrowed his brow in disapproval and said sternly, "Fernanda, how could you lie about being granted the opportunity to take the entrance exam for Esaham University? Was lying the only lesson you picked up in your little hometown?" "Honey, calm down," Michelle interjected quickly. "Fernanda was only trying to impress you." Turning to Fernanda with a soft, maternal expression, Michelle remarked in a soothing tone, "There's no shame in skipping college, Fernanda. You don't have to pretend or feel lesser because of it. We're family here, and we don't judge you on such matters." Her words, though gentle, were saturated with disbelief, assuming Fernanda was fabricating her story. Fernanda, without a word of defense, simply pulled out her smartphone. After a few taps, she pushed it across the table towards the center. Everyone leaned in to see the display. Erika's laughter stopped abruptly as she stared at the screen. Displayed prominently was Fernanda's Esaham University entrance exam admission ticket, complete with her photo and name in bold. Snatching the phone, Erika's eyes grew wide as she inspected it repeatedly. Her anger boiling over, she tossed it away and exclaimed, "This can't be real! You edited this, didn't you?" Chapter 4 This Girl Is Something Else "This isn't a photo--it's an online document," Fernanda stated in an even tone, her voice steady and clear. "Notice the Esaham University web address at the top?" Erika was at a loss for words. Her complexion lost its color as silence enveloped her. Entry to Esaham University was notoriously difficult, achievable only through the rigorous standardized exam or by excelling in the university's specialized admission test. This test was reserved for the truly outstanding, drawing candidates from diverse disciplines and making the chance to compete a rare gem. How did Fernanda manage to secure a spot to attend the admission test? Suddenly, Robert's hand was on Fernanda's phone, his eyes scanning the text again and again. Any annoyance he felt quickly dissipated, replaced by bubbling excitement. A rich, joyful laughter escaped him as he declared, "Brilliant, Fernanda! Absolutely brilliant!" The way Fernanda managed to secure such an incredible opportunity didn't concern him. What mattered most to him was the overwhelming pride he felt, knowing she had this chance to take the exam. With a stiff smile and a voice laced with tension, Michelle replied, "Yes, well done." "What's so great about that?" Erika scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's not as if she's actually going to pass." "But it's certainly better than not being qualified to try at all, right?" Fernanda retorted smoothly. Color rushed to Erika's cheeks, her anger palpable. She slammed her fork down, the clatter echoing sharply. "I've had enough!" she declared vehemently, before storming off in a huff. After dinner, Robert and Michelle walked Fernanda to her cozy and thoughtfully prepared room. The room was airy and uncluttered, resonating with Fernanda's love for understated elegance. "Across the hall is your sister's room," Michelle explained, her voice carrying a warm undertone. "Next to yours is your elder brother's. He's often caught up with work commitments and rarely at home. Your younger brother, who's currently at a summer camp overseas, has his room beside Erika's." She continued, a smile softening her features, "If there's anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, please don't hesitate to tell me, dear." Robert watched Michelle with a look of quiet approval. "Thank you," Fernanda murmured, her eyes downcast as she spoke. "I think I'll take a shower now." At that, Robert and Michelle excused themselves, leaving Fernanda to her privacy. As she stepped under the spray, cool water washed over her, drenching her face and lending a luminous sheen to her eyes. They sparkled against the backdrop of water droplets on her lashes, enhancing the serene yet frosty allure of her features. Once out of the shower, Fernanda blow-dried her hair until it was just damp. As Fernanda from the bathroom, she dug through the suitcase and found a photo of Hiram Hammond. The photo was a solemn memorial portrait of Hiram. Though not bound to her by blood, he had nurtured her with unwavering care and affection. To Fernanda, he was her entire world, her only family. That cherished photo, a tribute to his memory, was something she couldn't afford to lose. Gazing at the kind, gentle face in the photo, Fernanda was enveloped by a surge of affection. With gentle hands, she cleaned the photograph and lovingly placed it on a side table in the room. Within the next two days, the villa had welcomed two additional guests--Michelle's nephew and niece. The man exhibited an unseemly ltfulness, with his gaze persistently fixed on Fernanda whenever he could manage. Meanwhile, the woman had aligned herself with Erika, openly manifesting her contempt and animosity toward Fernanda through both overt and subtle jabs. Disenchanted by their presence, Fernanda chose to distance herself from the villa's stifling atmosphere. As the sun dawdled on the brink of the horizon, the evening air, warm yet prickled with tension, brushed against her. Seeking a brief escape, Fernanda wandered to a convenience store and picked up a can of cold beer. Positioned against a lamppost, she deftly popped open the can single-handedly. The refreshing chill of the beer soothed her throat as she drank. A slight tilt of her head caused the collar of her shirt to shift delicately, exposing the elegant contour of her collarbone. With an air of sophistication, her neck arched gracefully, like someone relishing a glass of champagne in an exclusive bar. Having savored the last drop, Fernanda tossed the can with a casual flick of her wrist, watching it arc smoothly into the bin with a satisfying clink. Not far off, someone hidden in the dim interior of a black sedan watched intently. Bobby, palpably impressed, turned to his companion and remarked with a mix of awe and admiration, "Cristian, this girl is something else!" Chapter 5 Attacked Cristian Reed, who was sprawling in the backseat, remained silent, his eyes firmly shut. "Wow, the girl is stunning! Check out those legs--so beautiful and flawless! Did you see her toss that can, Cristian? She's got skills that could rival yours!" Bobby's incessant babble finally pierced Cristian's reserve. With a sigh, Cristian's eyes fluttered open. Just then, the headlights from an approaching vehicle swept across his face, accentuating its angular contours and highlighting a small mole beneath his eye. Drawing out his words, Cristian replied with a lazy drawl, his voice a deep, soothing rumble laced with a trace of exhaustion, "Aren't you getting engaged soon? Isn't the eldest Morgan daughter meant to be yours?" Bobby visibly flinched at the mention, his expression contorting into one of clear distaste. "She's nothing but a stray who got lost as a child and grew up in some nowhere place. Who's to say she isn't just a goddamn ugly rural bumpkin? My friends probably see me as some unlucky fool. Cristian, you are my cousin. You should not make fun of me like they do!" Cristian merely crossed his arms, extending his long legs and settling back more comfortably without a word. The silence seemed to deepen Bobby's frustration, as if sealing his fate. Yet, as Bobby's eyes landed on the girl's striking figure under the streetlight again, his mood shifted, and a flicker of curiosity lit up his face. With a playful grin, Bobby lowered the window and leaned slightly out, his tone dripping with charm. "Hey there, gorgeous. Can I offer you a ride?" "No, thank you." Her words were crisp and frosty, cutting through the evening like a cold breeze, leaving a chill that touched both men. In the backseat, Cristian's body tensed. His eyes snapped open, his head whipping around toward the sound of the voice. That voice? It unmistakably belonged to the girl he had met in that dimly lit motel. Cristian acted with such swiftness that he seemed to blur the lines between thought and action as he swung the car door open and emerged. Fernanda mistook his approach for a mere flirtatious gesture. Without giving him another thought, she turned away and continued on her path. She had only taken a few steps when she felt a strong, unyielding grip halt her progress. She spun around, coming face-to-face with the man who had stopped her. Towering and strikingly handsome, he possessed an aura of undeniable presence. One hand was nonchalantly placed in his pocket, while the other securely grasped her arm. His piercing gaze locked with hers. "Well, if it isn't you!" Cristian muttered slowly, a hint of recognition in his voice. "Seems like we keep meeting, huh?" Fernanda's eyes flickered with surprise as she realized who he was--the man from that unforgettable night. Given that he was a dangerous fugitive, she wanted to keep her distance from him. Swiftly regaining her composure, she adopted an aloof demeanor. "I'm sorry, sir. You must be mistaken," she replied evenly. "No," Cristian responded, his voice low and steady, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "A debt of gratitude is something I never forget." His remark revealed a depth to his character. For Cristian, repaying a good deed wasn't just a courtesy--it was a principle he lived by. Meanwhile, Bobby had exited the car and now stood a short distance away, his expression one of utter bewilderment. "What's going on?" he inquired. Cristian brushed off Bobby's presence, focusing instead on holding the car door open for Fernanda with a subtle nod. Fernanda stayed rooted in place, her gaze sharp with caution. "What do you mean by that?" "I'd like to take you to dinner. Would you join me?" Cristian urged with a warm, inviting smile. It came across as a question, but Fernanda could discern from the inflection in his voice that he wasn't genuinely offering her an option to decline. Her familiarity with his nature left no room for misunderstanding. Refusing him might only provoke him to force her into the car himself. With a sigh, she gave a subdued nod. "Fine." A faint smile flickered across Cristian's face as he graciously gestured for her to enter, then smoothly took his place behind the wheel. Bobby blinked in shock, his mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me, Cristian. This is incredible!" Cristian had effortlessly ensnared the alluring girl with a mere handful of words, an accomplishment Bobby found profoundly impressive. As Bobby tried the back door, he found it unexpectedly locked. "Cristian?" he inquired, a hint of confusion in his tone. Cristian commanded firmly, "Leave." Frozen in place in the brisk evening air, Bobby watched the sleek black car vanish into the shadows of the night. He was the first to spot the girl! Why had they left him behind? Inside the car, Cristian shattered the lingering silence by firing off a torrent of questions. "Are you from Esaham or Zhota?" "Zhota," she answered softly. "And your name?" "Letty Molina." "How old are you?" "Twenty-five," Fernanda replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Cristian stole a sideways glance at her, his voice laced with skepticism. "Doesn't seem like it." "Reality seldom mirrors our expectations," Fernanda replied, her tone unwavering. "Take your appearance, for instance. In that impeccable suit, you're the perfect picture of a business tycoon. Yet, you're the same fugitive I stumbled upon the other night." Cristian couldn't help but laugh, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You do have a point." Fernanda was finally no longer feigning ignorance about their past encounter. Cristian was relieved. Had she chosen to continue her charade, he had his own methods to have her drop the act. As usual, Esaham's traffic was a snarled mess. Cristian veered onto a less congested side street, hoping to evade the endless sea of cars. Breaking the silence, he suggested, "I know a cozy spot run by a Zhota native--serves excellent food. Let's head there." "Sure," she replied, her tone calm but firm. Just as Fernanda's reply hung in the air, a jarring crash echoed from behind, jolting the car forward. She was thrust back, the seatbelt gnawing into her shoulder. Cristian's gaze darted to the rearview mirror. Suddenly, a van cut sharply across their path, blocking them. On either side, vehicles converged, spilling out men brandishing grim tools, their silhouettes ominous in the dim streetlight. Without hesitation, Cristian reached into the center console, retrieving a knfe. "Whatever happens, keep yourself inside the car. Don't even think about stepping out," he instructed firmly, pressing her back into the seat. With a resolute nod, he went on, "I'll take care of them, and afterward, dinner's on me." Cristian wrapped up his conversation, offering Fernanda a fleeting smile that appeared untouched by the surrounding tension. Fernanda folded her arms and settled deeper into her seat, her face a mask of tranquility as she observed Cristian approach the group of armed adversaries. The scene was stark--one man facing off against a throng armed to the teeth. The odds were clearly not in his favor. Yet, as Cristian lifted his foot and dispatched two of the men to the ground with a single, silent kick, Fernanda took note of his precision and power. His technique spoke of extensive training and raw capability. The gang, incited by Cristian's defiance, rushed at him collectively. Sticks sliced through the air, each strike landing with a dense thud that echoed menace. Cristian, however, danced through the tumult with a grace that seemed almost serene. Despite their advantage in numbers, his assailants found themselves floundering to overpower him. One attacker received a blunt punch straight to the face, staggering backward and eventually collapsing against the hood of Cristian's car. As he dabbed at the bl**d dripping from his nose, the man snarled in rage. Catching sight of Fernanda inside the vehicle, a sinister idea sparked within him... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67179322-fb_contact-e	Fragrant Fiction	https://www.facebook.com/61565957015132/	55	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67179322-fb_contact-enj83_6-0110-c3-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=060236&accid=1721275375067958&exdata=303AD0586C0A3DED61313CC17139213F636613443E83A792	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/474778246_8988329684588110_5252277116467783569_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=rpDDdBUj3NAQ7kNvgHP9Ewc&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-2.fna&_nc_gid=A8H35E_EYNFn3WspLX65ljl&oh=00_AYBh_1MS3-NSDWNOQBwO-zlcYy3iV3M8jjEZXfq3tuxtqg&oe=67A628E5	PERSON_PROFILE	Fragrant Fiction	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,679,667	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Read next chapter	After being released, her malicious stepsister threatened her with their mother's life and tried to send her to an older man. On her way to "sacrifice" herself, she unexpectedly met a mafia kingpin. She took the initiative to seduce him for a partnership. From then on, she turned the tables—tearing apart the fake angel, slapping her stepmother, and refusing to be bullied again! ===== On the day Khloe Evans was put on trial by her fiance, it was raining heavily. "Khloe Evans, you are suspected of bribing competition judges, academic fraud, and attempted homicide. Do you plead guilty or not?" Inside the silent and solemn courtroom, the judge's gavel echoed, signaling the start of a tense moment. Khloe's bldshot eyes were filled with anger and desperation, staring at Eric Watson, her fiance. She couldn't help but sneer. They had spent four years from falling in love to getting married; she had always believed that he loved her deeply and that their married life would be blissful. But on their wedding day, he personally put her on trial because of her stepsister's words. The Watson family was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. No one would dare to offend them for a nobody like her. Khloe said word by word, "I have nothing to say." All along, she thought Eric was the love of her life. But it turned out he had been having an aair with her stepsister, Sloane Evans. What was more, he had stolen her academic achievements. And now, he falsely accused her of being a mrderer. He was ruthless. What else could she say? The judge banged his gavel again and gave his verdict. "The court hereby sentences the defendant, Khloe Evans, to eight years in prison and a fine of three hundred thousand dollars." The trial concluded, and the prison guards escorted Khloe. As she walked out of the courtroom, Khloe turned and looked back at Eric, sitting in the plaintiff's seat, her eyes burning with deep hatred and fury. ...... Three years had passed. "Khloe Evans, someone has bailed you out. You're free to go." Upon hearing that, Khloe raised her head, her pale face filled with shock. After suffering from endless torture for three years, she had thought that she was bound to stay there for the full sentence. She didn't expect that she would be released one day. An hour after she was released from prison, Khloe was taken to a hospital. She entered a ward, and her heart clenched when she saw her mother through the ICU door, lying motionless in the hospital bed. With a pale face and various apparatus connected to her body, she looked lifeless. "Mom..." Khloe got all worked up, her voice trembling with emotion. She wanted to open the door and go in. "Stop it! This ward is specially secured. No one is allowed to enter without my permission." A female voice suddenly rang out behind her. Khloe turned around and was surprised to see the person who spoke. "Sloane? My mom severed ties with the Evans family long ago. Why are you still doing this to her?" As she spoke, she glared at Sloane with eyes full of hatred. Sloane looked at Khloe, a flicker of jealousy and disdain flashing across her eyes. Then, she sneered, "Khloe, looks like you are mistaken. I'm saving her. Without me, your mother would have died long ago. Perhaps, by the time you come out of prison, you will only see her tomb." Khloe took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Sloane, stop being so hypocritical. You are saving my mother? Only a fool will believe that. What are you really up to? You're using her to manipulate me, right?" "Khloe, you're as clever as ever. No wonder they called you the rising star of academia. But it's a pity that you are now a convict for attempted murder. And your fate is in my hands," Sloane taunted. "So, today, all you need to do is spend a night with Karl Russell. Then, I'll arrange for your release and your mother's treatment." "Karl Russell? That old man is already in his sixties. Are you out of your mind?" Khloe's eyes widened in disbelief. "So what? Should I care? It's you who are going to sleep with him, not me. As long as you spend one night with him, our family can secure the Russell family's arms deal. It's a very lucrative business. You should feel honored that you are selling out your body to make so much money for us. But if you refuse..." Sloane pointed to the ICU. "I'll have them remove your mom's life support, and she'll die right in front of you. I'll give you five seconds to decide. Five, four, three..." "Fine! I'll go," Khloe agreed in despair. This time, she could no longer suppress the tears she had been holding back. She was left with no choice. For the sake of her mother, she had to do it. After freshening up, Khloe was put into a car. Tonight, she was destined to sleep with a sixty-something disgusting man. And she was still a vgin. Chapter 2 Henrik Watson That night, the car glided through the deserted streets, headlights cutting into the night's inky darkness. Bang! A gnshot shattered the silence, deafening and ominously close. Glass sprayed across the seats as the car window exploded, fragments glittering in the dim streetlights. All hell broke loose. Terrified creams echoed in the street as the few remaining shops hurried to lower their shutters. The driver, white-faced and trembling, veered in a panic. The car skidded, tires screeching before slamming into the curb. He slumped forward, unconscious. Beside him, Khloe blinked, disoriented from the impact. Pressing a hand to her throbbing head, she tried to make sense of what had happened. Through the cracked window, she glimpsed flickering orange flames a short distance away. "Oh, no!" She'd stumbled straight into the deadly crossfires of a gnfight. It was likely a turf war turned ugly by two warring gangs. Steadying herself, Khloe pushed open the door and crouched low, inching towards the roadside. But before she could move further, a figure emerged from the darkness. Tall and powerfully built, he was moving fast. Even though a mask obscured most of his features, she could still see his intense eyes and the proud outline of his nose. A dark stain spread across his side, seeping through his clothes--bld. He stumbled towards her, breathing heavily, and collapsed at her feet. Just then, another group of burly men burst from the shadows, each armed to the teeth. Their faces were etched with vicious determination, each bearing a ttoo on the hand. "Perfect! He's down. Now, finish him off!" The leader, bald and snarling, held up his gn and pointed it towards the fallen man. Then, his gaze fell on Khloe. She was dressed to the nines, as she was meant to be a gift for a man tonight. A tight red dress hugged her perfect figure, accentuating her curves and complimenting her porcelain skin. Her glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a delicate, doll-like face with wide, innocent eyes. In a word, she looked like a vision from a dream--or a man's tptation made flesh. The bald man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with leerous intent. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, and he wasn't about to let an opportunity like this slide. "While you're finishing him off, I'll help myself to this beauty." He lunged, shoving Khloe back against the shattered window, pressing his weight against her. "No, please!" she pleaded, her voice trembling as she tried to pull away. "Please don't hurt me." "Why would I hurt a beauty like you?" he taunted, his fingers gripping her shoulder tightly as he leaned closer, his hot breath on her skin. His men jeered behind him, urging him on, enjoying the show. But Khloe's hand moved, almost imperceptibly, reaching into her purse. In one swift, desperate motion, her fingers closed around a pen, and she drove it up into his neck with a fierce thrust. The bald man's eyes widened in shock as bld spurted from the wound, his grip loosening. Gone was the look of a damsel in distress; her eyes, which were so full of fear just a second earlier, now glinted with a cold light. What was once a delicate, angelic beauty had transformed into a bld-stained rose, dark and dangerous. "B*ch, you're asking for it!" The henchmen froze for a split second, then fury overcame them, and they charged at Khloe with murderous intent. Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Don't move, or I'll pull the pen out! He'll bleed out on the spot!" The men abruptly stopped in their tracks. No one dared to move a muscle. At this moment, the man who'd been lying motionless suddenly sprang to life, gn in hand, and unleashed a hail of bllets on the stunned thgs. He moved with such agility that it was clear his injury had only been a ruse. Even the bald man Khloe held hostage collapsed in a bldy heap, a bullet having shattered his skull in an instant. Khloe spun her head just in time, avoiding the bld splatter. But her clothes and legs weren't so lucky; they were stained with bld, sticky and warm. "Ugh!" The sickly, metallic scent hit her, and her stomach churned. She couldn't stop herself from retching, knees buckling as she collapsed sideways. But before she hit the ground, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright. The man's grip was firm, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Feisty little thing, weren't you so badass just a second ago? What happened?" Khloe recoiled, shoving him away, her face twisting in defiance. "Let go of me!" Before she could get another word out, black-clad men suddenly emerged from the shadows, their faces hard, eyes cold. Even the surrounding rooftops showed silhouettes of these men, controlling all sniper points. Each man moved with such deadly precision, and Khloe could tell at a glance that they were all experienced killers. They brandished machine guns and rocket launchers with practiced ease, as though these were everyday items. In a word, they looked like an elite strike force--battle-hardened, lethal. Unexpectedly, one by one, they all started dropping to their knees, as though bowing before a king. Thousands of them bowed in unison. "Awaiting your orders, Mr. Watson," the leader announced reverently. Khloe's breath hitched. "Are you Henrik Watson?" Chapter 3 The Kiss Henrik accepted a handkerchief from his trusted aide, Rhett Foster, wiping the bld from his hands with deliberate, almost regal precision. He then removed his mask slowly, revealing a face that could seize anyone's breath. His eyes were dark, magnetic pools, deep enough to pull anyone in. And above his perfectly-shaped lips was a prominent, sculpted nose. His chiseled features conveyed both power and beauty, almost too flawless to belong to any ordinary man. It was the kind of face that could eclipse even the brightest stars in the showbiz. But more than his appearance, it was his aura--commanding, indomitable--that sent shivers down spines. This was a man who held dominion over countless lives. Henrik smiled, a flash of danger glinting in his eyes. "So what if I am?" Khloe's eyes went as wide as saucers. Henrik Watson--that name carried the weight of legend. Henrik had once been a branch member of the Watson family before vanishing into obscurity for ten long years. When he resurfaced, he singlehandedly seized control of the nation's underworld, rendering him a king without rival. In fact, he was so powerful that even the president treaded carefully around him. Khloe's ex-fiance, Eric, was a member of the Watson family, which had ascended from obscurity to supremacy solely thanks to Henrik. By blood, Eric was Henrik's nephew. So, if her marriage to Eric pushed through, Henrik would be her husband's uncle. Khloe's stepsister, Sloane, had maneuvered her into offering herself to Karl Russell. Though Karl held sway in the city, he was nothing against Henrik's underworld might. It was like comparing a lion to a mouse. As the thought struck her, hope flickered within Khloe. If she could gain Henrik's support, she might escape her forced sacrifice, and her mother could be saved. Steadying her breath, she asked tentatively, "Since I just helped you, could I ask you a favor?" Henrik's gaze sharpened, eyes gleaming with intrigue. It was the first time a woman had faced him with such poise, especially after witnessing him kill so many people. Interest piqued, Henrik strode towards Khloe with an almost lazy confidence, each step measured and unhurried. His sculpted fingers pinched her chin, lifting it so she was looking right at him. He held her gaze as he studied her with a trace of amusement in his eyes. His voice, low and rich, sent a chill through the air. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?" A shiver raced through Khloe's heart. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud closing in, suffocating in its intensity. He was dangerous--merely speaking to him was like playing with fire. But she had nowhere else to turn; Henrik was her only chance. "I have a Ph.D. in chemistry and medicine, along with patents--highly profitable ones. If you help me, I can make you money," she said, voice steady but with a glint of desperation. Henrik shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Money?" he murmured, his fingers brushing her cheek. "Do I look like I lack money?" The scent of bld clung faintly to his skin, chilling her even as he remained outwardly gentle. Khloe's guard went up instinctively, her body tensing beneath his touch. "What do you want?" she ventured cautiously. "If it's within my power, I'm willing to exchange anything." A spark flickered in Henrik's dark eyes, something enigmatic and unreadable. He let his gaze drift over her as if considering her offer. "Anything, you say?" All of a sudden, he let out a chilling laugh. "Then I want this." In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. And there, before all his men, he kissed her. Chapter 4 Decisive Action The kiss came unexpectedly. Khloe was caught off guard, unable to respond in time. Henrik's subordinates stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had all worked for him for years, and never once had they seen him so close with a woman. Henrik had always been the type to keep his distance from women. In the past, women who approached him either ended up as fish food or were sent to toil in the mines at his orders. What kind of spell had this woman cast? How was it that she managed to make Henrik abandon all his usual rules, and all on their very first meeting? As the crowd remained stunned and puzzled, Khloe's thoughts swirled in chaos, making it impossible to think straight. Henrik's kiss was overwhelming, like a storm crashing down on her, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She found herself trapped in his arms, held so tightly it felt as though she were a flower caught in a violent storm. Yet she was anything but fragile. Once the shock wore off, a surge of anger rose within her. For years, she had endured humiliation, her fall from grace plunging her into the darkest depths. But giving up was never an option; she had always been plotting her revenge. It was only natural that she refused to yield. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with equal ferocity. After all, what harm could a kiss do? And the man was both devastatingly handsome and of high standing. She would not suffer any losses. She skillfully fought back with her tgue, refusing to let him dominate her entirely. Instead of pulling back, she met his intensity head-on, taking the lead. What began as a one-sided kiss quickly transformed into a fierce exchange, each of them vying for control, pushing and pulling in a heated battle for dominance. The kiss was fierce and all-consuming, each second more passionate than the last, until they were both gasping for air. When they finally pulled away, their lips were swollen and stained with bl**d, a testament to the intensity of the moment. Henrik let go of Khloe, his hand brushing against the corner of his mouth where her teeth had left their mark. His gaze was intense, locking onto her with a depth that seemed to pierce right through her. Khloe held his stare steadily, not flinching or showing even the slightest sign of discomfort. Her fearless attitude earned her the respect of those watching. It was clear now why Henrik was drawn to her. She was bold, with a courage that couldn't be ignored. She had the audacity to bite Henrik's lips, unafraid of the consequences. Henrik continued to gaze at Khloe, a growing satisfaction building within him. The sting on his lips reminded him sharply of what had just happened. The woman standing before him, with a face as stunning as an angel's, was no delicate flower. She was a thorny rose, and anyone foolish enough to underestimate her would undoubtedly pay the price. But that was exactly what made her so captivating--it was the danger beneath the beauty that drew him in. "Mr. Watson, is everything to your liking?" Khloe asked, breaking the stillness. "Yes, let's go," Henrik replied with a smile. "Now, let's take care of your little issue." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &10&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novels	https://www.facebook.com/61563251196448/	2,467	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-enp98_2-1210-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=157725&accid=304554039400649&exdata=C53DCDAE4F2816FF882790799D3CA6339B25B575F620EAE7	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475755252_1134536191412994_1355857603852494755_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=ZVR_w8erzJkQ7kNvgHAYH2p&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-1.fna&_nc_gid=AhUOggNEOWtgRi1D-dTdaSJ&oh=00_AYAuBJUfDNipTCmQ4q4LAIsfdcDUihdIVy7GQUaT-KB38g&oe=67A63BA9	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novels	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,679,600	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Read next chapter	Ever since my father passed away, Richard had taken on a brotherly role in my life, but he often disapproved of my closeness with other guys. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl. "Tricia, call her sister-in-law." ===== Richard was only a year older than me, but he had always used his role as an older brother to control me. When I was younger, he'd scold me for skipping classes. As I grew older and started dating, he still interfered. One time, my friend joked, "Maybe Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I had tried to keep my distance. But during the holidays, he suddenly brought a girl home. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably. He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears. "You could find a boyfriend to annoy me, but I couldn't do the same to you?" Lately, luck hadn't been on my side. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." It was true. My dad and his dad had been old friends, and ever since my dad passed away, his family had been taking care of us. My mother had always told me to treat Richard like a real brother. Even though we weren't related by blood, he was more responsible than any real brother. Back in school, he would watch me do my homework every day and even lecture me if I skipped class. He was only a year older than me, but he had always acted like an adult. Whenever I did something wrong, he'd scold me faster than my mom. "Tricia, that's not polite. Don't do that." "Tricia, don't talk badly about people behind their backs." The thought that he might like me sent chills down my spine. "Don't say that! You're going to give me nightmares!" After leaving Sandra's house, her words kept echoing in my head, as if they had put a spell on me. That night, I dreamed that Richard cornered me at the stairwell, gripping my chin and ki*sing me forcefully. "Who said you could get a boyfriend?" I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified, and immediately blocked his number. Thankfully, I was about to start my internship and wouldn't be home much longer. When I opened the door the next morning, Richard just happened to be walking by. Instinctively, I stepped back and slammed the door shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his cold, piercing stare. It felt like a blade cutting right through me. Later that evening, we went to his apartment for dinner. In front of everyone, he asked why I had blocked his number. I stammered, unable to come up with a reason, and had no choice but to unblock him. "I must've clicked the wrong button..." Trying to appease him, I offered him a piece of chicken with a flattering smile. "Richard, you look so thin! You should eat more meat." But something I said must've annoyed him because he even moved his plate farther away. "No need." I had found my internship on my own, even though Richard strongly opposed it and insisted I join his company. But this time, I stood my ground and firmly refused. I was too afraid that if we spent too much time together, something would happen. The apartment we were living in had been rented by Richard, thinking I'd work at his company and we'd commute together. But after starting my job, I found a new place to avoid seeing him as much as possible. My mother would text me every day, asking what I wanted to eat. She'd have the servant cook it and then deliver it to me. I'd give her a whole list of dishes, but Richard was always the one who showed up at my door. I almost slammed it shut again. But when I saw the angry look in his eyes, I stopped myself. I forced a smile and took the food container from him. "Richard, I've missed you." He ignored me, walking around the apartment to inspect the place. "Tricia, I send you so much money every month, and this is where you live? Where's all the money gone?" I hadn't touched a cent of the money he gave me. I didn't want to owe him or his family too much. But I didn't dare tell him that. He'd just accuse me of treating him like a stranger. Honestly, my mother gave me plenty of money every month too, but I had a habit of splurging on my favorite celebrities, so I had to cut costs elsewhere. "I'm investing. High returns, you know." Being a fan was an investment, especially for a toptier star like Lanny--his merch was incredibly popular. Once I got him out of my apartment, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I swore I'd never overindulge again! Starting my new job, I often joined my colleagues for meals to fit in better. Eventually, I ran out of money and had to call my mother for help. She transferred $50, 000 to me but gave me a strict warning. "If you waste this money on a man again, I'm cutting you off." Chapter 2 Richard's Furious Because I Spent Money On Another Guy Her voice was so loud that my colleagues started giving me strange looks. I was exasperated. I had explained to her more than once that being a fan just meant liking a celebrity and spending some money on their endorsements. But my mom never listened and kept scolding me. "Spending money on men is pointless! You should be the one letting them spend money on you, got it?" Just as I was about to argue with her again, I heard a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "Mrs. Reynolds, has Tricia gotten a boyfriend?" Why was Richard at my home? Startled, I immediately hung up the phone. The restaurant we picked was pretty popular, and we had to wait over an hour for a table. While we were waiting, a crowd suddenly started gathering. I glanced over and saw Lanny trying to make his way through the mob. Well, no wonder the place was packed--it's a hotspot for celebrities, and fans love to flock to places like this. Lanny saw me and headed my way, with a swarm of fans trailing behind him. It was a little intimidating. Wearing sunglasses, he looked cool, but in reality, he was a total goofball. "Tricia, you're here at my restaurant? Aren't you worried Richard will get angry?" Back in high school, Lanny and I were in the same class. He was great at math, and Sandra and I once went to his house to do homework. He casually put his arm around my shoulder, like we were just buddies, and neither of us thought much of it. But when Richard found out, he beat Lanny up. Ever since then, the two couldn't stand each other. I sighed helplessly. "If I'd known this was your restaurant, I wouldn't have come." I was a fan of Lanny--I went to his concerts and bought his endorsements, but I rarely paid attention to his personal life. One time, he recognized me from the stage and said he'd just give me a ticket next time, but I turned him down. Being a fan meant spending my own money; otherwise, it was not called being a fan, it was just being friends. Lanny handed me a membership card, saying I could eat at his restaurant for free from now on. I took it, thinking that if my mom ever really cut off my funds, at least I'd have a place to get a free meal. After dinner, I got home and saw Richard standing outside my door. I instinctively tried to retreat, but he was quick and called out to me. "Tricia, come here." For some reason, I always felt guilty around Richard. All I ever wanted to do was run away. "Richard, why are you here? Have you eaten yet?" He sneered, and despite it being hot, I felt a chill down my spine. "If I didn't show up, how would I know you're out here spending time with some guy?" I opened the door and explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. But he wasn't having it. He kept pressing, demanding to know who the guy was. I refused to tell him, thinking if he found out I'd spent money on Lanny, he'd beat him heavily. Then he gave me an ultimatum. "A kept man can't make you happy. Break up with him immediately." As I stood up, the card Lanny gave me fell to the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but Richard was faster. He stared at me, eyes full of rage. "You don't even have money for yourself, and you're out here paying for his meals?" I was speechless as he stormed out of the apartment. Two hours later, Laurence, Richard's assistant, called me, practically in tears. "Tricia, what did you do to upset Mr. Stewart this time? I had just finished getting ready for bed when he called me back to the office to revise the proposal. I can't be on call 24/7!" I often visited Richard at his office, so I had gotten close with his secretaries and assistants. Since starting my internship, I knew all too well the pain of being forced to work overtime. Besides, they always gave me useful information--I couldn't just leave them hanging. I called Richard, and he picked up on the third ring, clearly still furious. I was trying to think of a way to coax him without making it obvious, but he was impatient. "Say something." My mind raced. Flattery never failed. "Richard, I heard you're still working overtime? You work so hard! With you in charge, the company is sure to thrive!" He didn't seem impressed. "If I didn't work my butt off, where would you get the money to spoil some guy?" Seeing that talking wouldn't help, I bought some snacks and headed to his office. When I arrived, the lights were still on, even though it was already ten o'clock. The tension in the air was palpable. Before I even reached the conference room, I could already hear Richard's angry voice inside. Chapter 3 I Thought Richard Liked Me, But He Brought Home A Girlfriend "Did I hire you to sit around gossiping all day?" "What kind of proposal is this? Is this your first day on the job? Take it back and redo it." I knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before entering. Everyone inside looked at me as if I were their savior, and I could see the gratitude in their eyes. Richard was caught off guard for a moment--he hadn't expected me to show up. I cleared my throat, walked up to him, and set the food down. "Richard, you should eat something. Mrs. Stewart said you haven't had dinner." He didn't move at first, so I grabbed his arm and guided him toward his office. As I closed the door behind us, I gave the others an "OK" signal. Richard's expression softened a bit, but he still looked like he wasn't in the mood to talk. I brought him a bowl of noodles, and he didn't even leave a single bite of meat. He must've been starving. "Richard, you need to take care of yourself. Work will never end. If you keep this up, your parents will be worried sick." He looked into my eyes, and I saw a mix of emotions--too many for me to make sense of. "And what about you?" I started tidying up the takeout container, avoiding his gaze. "Of course, I'm worried too. Why else would I come looking for you in the middle of the night?" My attempt to coax him worked. He picked up his jacket, slung it over his arm, and got ready to leave. "I'll take you home. It's not safe for you to walk alone at night." In the car, I avoided his eyes, pretending to look out the window at the passing scenery. For several days, I didn't contact Richard. My mom thought we were fighting and kept urging me not to be stubborn. "Don't be so willful. Richard is busy with work, and he still makes time to take care of you." I didn't know how to explain it to her, so I just stayed silent. As work got busier, I pushed the matter to the back of my mind. We spoke occasionally, but only about work-related things. Eventually, he became distant with me. I sighed with relief, but at the same time, I felt an odd emptiness inside. Time flew by, and before I knew it, Christmas was approaching. The company gave us a holiday starting three days before Christmas. Coincidentally, Lanny was holding a concert in Alodon, so I flew over to catch it and even took a photo with him afterward. Lanny said we hadn't taken a picture together in years and asked me to send him one. I did, and moments later, I saw him post it on Facebook. "Great concert! Thanks to all the friends who came from far and wide." When I returned to Pheldence, it was Christmas Eve. For some reason, I couldn't shake this feeling of unease. Every year, our families took turns hosting the family dinner, and this year it was at Richard's house. As soon as I walked in, I heard laughter coming from the living room. I headed toward the sound and saw a gentle, elegant girl sitting on the couch. She had long hair, was dressed in a luxury coat, and carried a limited-edition handbag. Clearly, she was the same type of person as Richard. The most important thing was that she was sitting next to him, with her hand linked through his arm. Richard didn't even look at me. His attention was completely on her. I felt an inexplicable surge of frustration and placed my things on the coffee table a bit too forcefully. My mom shot me a sharp look. "Tricia, can you show some manners? You just walked in, and you're already giving attitude." Richard smiled--barely, but I noticed it. Sitting across from them, their closeness felt glaringly obvious. "So, what should I call you?" I asked the girl. For the first time since I arrived, Richard actually looked at me. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." I didn't know what to say. Suddenly, I understood where that feeling of unease had been coming from. Richard was in a relationship, and I was the one who felt the most hurt. I quickly greeted her, but despite the feast in front of me, everything tasted bland and unappetizing. Once I got home, I rushed to my room, buried myself under the covers, and let the tears flow freely. I didn't know how much time had passed when I suddenly heard the door creak open. I hastily wiped away my tears, pretending to be asleep. Someone walked slowly to my bedside. I could feel his gaze on me as he crouched down. He pulled at my blanket, and though I clung to it, I couldn't match his strength. I opened my eyes to see Richard standing by my bed with a faint smile. "Tricia, why are you crying just because I'm in a relationship?" ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,341	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-enad50_2-250126-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=233925549638247&exdata=FC3EB673E6B15A84C5075C7489764E4002296EC5D260F4D9	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475061249_619776307667904_3748646918456080444_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Zt-GSmoIuiQQ7kNvgFnRMhv&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-1.fna&_nc_gid=AhvCg_DRxLxyO9n49mbzrUN&oh=00_AYD6LMMmLOU04eEsakcFOEE2SdvLZOMgaP2nbY7ZpW0l3A&oe=67A62AF8	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,679,705	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451		Rumors claimed she was an uneducated, hot-tempered bumpkin. She sneered and revealed her true identity as a renowned designer, gaming pro, celebrated artist, and business tycoon, leaving everyone stunned! ===== "We're here to escort you home, Miss Morgan." "Your parents have been tirelessly searching for you over the years. Upon discovering your whereabouts, they promptly dispatched us to ensure your return." Fernanda Morgan surveyed the men in crisply tailored suits who stood before her, he appeared to be a butler. "Moreover, the Harper family is keenly anticipating your return. You are to be engaged to Mr. Harper once you return!" "Alright then. Let's go," Fernanda agreed with a slight nod. She collected her already-packed belongings and stepped into the vehicle. The journey from the small town of Zhota to Esaham was a long one, spanning at least two days by car. As dusk enveloped the sky, they pulled into another small town. The butler located a modestly appealing motel and proposed they stay overnight. Fernanda's accommodation was at the far end of the second-floor hallway, Room 201--arguably the best room available. The butler and the rest of their group opted to stay on the lower floor. The night was unusually warm and dry, rendering the room's aging air conditioner useless. Fernanda opened the window to invite a cool breeze, causing the curtains to dance gently in the evening air. Fresh from her shower, she dimmed the lights and crawled into bed for the night. Drifting into a light sleep, she was jolted awake by a disturbance outside. A subsequent noise at the window snapped her to full alert. As she bolted upright, a shadowy figure burst through, launching itself onto her bed. The freezing touch of a blde hovered at her neck as a low, threatening voice growled, "Don't you dare move." Immobile, Fernanda's body clenched in fear. The faint, iron tang of bld lingered on the man's sleeve--a grim reminder of his dangerousness. This unmistakable hint solidified the fact: this man was no one to mess with. Outside, the commotion intensified. Shortly after, a forceful knock resonated at the door. A coarse voice demanded, "Is anyone there? Open up now!" As the voice still echoed, the knfe at Fernanda's neck dug in slightly deeper. The man's voice dripped with malice as he warned, "Get rid of them, or you're as good as dead." His right arm ensnared her waist, his left hand unwavering with the knfe at her throat. Through his firm grip and calculated movements, Fernanda realized he was deadly serious. Cornered, she knew she had to play along for the time being. "Sure." With a soft, steady voice, Fernanda reassured him. "It'll all be okay." With no answer from inside, the outsiders used a master key to unlock the door and stormed in. At the sound, the man jerked Fernanda's baggy T-shirt, pulling her down onto his lap and encircling her with his arm, forcing her to straddle him as he shifted position. Right then, the door flung open, and a stark beam of flashlight flooded the room. Fernanda let out a panicked scream, quickly bending over the man to obscure him from view. "Sweetheart, what the hell is this place? How could anyone have the audacity to barge in like that?" Acting as though she was terrified, Fernanda held onto the man, her grip firm and desperate. Her voice, usually sweet and enticing, now carried an edge of annoyance mingled with a breathless charm that was utterly captivating. Suddenly, Fernanda felt the man beneath her tense up. Seconds later, he encircled her with his arm and expertly flipped over, drawing the blanket over both their bodies. As the blanket slid, its soft whispers merged with the steady rhythm of their breaths, painting a scene of understated sensuality. Faces flushed with embarrassment, the group at the door stood stiffly, unprepared for the private display before them. Nonetheless, the couple inside the room showed no signs of halting their intimate exchange. The motel's security guard chuckled uncomfortably, "Looks like they're pretty busy... Maybe we ought to leave, huh?" One of the men brushed past the guard and entered the room with a purposeful stride. Fernanda's heartbeat skyrocketed as she heard the footsteps drawing near. Could they actually be contemplating unveiling them? A chilling blde pressed against her side, its pointed tip grazing her skin, sending a shiver through her already tense body. The footsteps halted next to the bed, and with a surge of courage, Fernanda leaned in closer to the man beneath her. Pulled back gently, the blanket gave way to the flashlight's piercing light, exposing a glimpse of her delicate, bre back. In the softness of the bed, their movements continued unabated. Fernanda's lips met his in a fervent kiss, her hair cascading down to obscure his face, while his hand gently caressed her side. The subdued mns that slipped from their lips lent the scene an air of genuine intimacy. Abruptly, a voice erupted from beyond the room, piercing the tranquility. "Boss! Something's going down out on the street!" Instantly, the man at the bedside sprang to his feet and vanished through the door. With the door slamming behind him, Fernanda disentangled herself and slipped from the bed. Moonlight seeped through a crack in the curtains, casting delicate shadows across the room. The man watched as Fernanda's slender figure was silhouetted against the pale light. Memories of earlier washed over him; his fingers traced her skin, so smooth and velvety. She had gripped his arms, her delicate skin pressing softly against his. Her hair had brushed his face, each strand silky, carrying a subtle fragrance. Her voice had been a soft melody, soothing to his ears. This woman was serene and astute. Amid the intrusion, rather than succumb to panic, she had pressed her lips to his, a kiss so convincing it had deceived the pursuers. Her technique was rather clumsy, only pressing her lips against his without any other movement--evidently her first kiss. Breaking the ensuing quiet, the man's voice softened from its usual sternness to a rasp tinged with allre. "Was that your first kiss?" Chapter 2 That's Gross With deliberate movements, Fernanda pulled out a piece of clothing from her suitcase, her voice sharp and cool. "This is none of your concern. I think it's time for you to leave." All she desired at that moment was to hasten the man's departure. Barely a moment before, when he had embraced her, his fingers had brushed against her back, lingering just a moment too long. The calluses on his fingertips were coarse, betraying more wear than most. His adeptness with a knife and his swift reflexes hinted at a background that was far from ordinary. Cutting off the thought immediately, Fernanda dismissed any curiosity about his background. From below, the blare of a car horn shattered the silence. The man stood up smoothly. During their earlier intimacy, he had loosened his shirt, though his trousers remained crisply in place. He buttoned his shirt as he approached the window and casually tossed something to Fernanda. "My apologies for any discomfort caused earlier. Consider this your compensation," he said with a nod. With the graceful precision of a panther, he sprang out of the window. Fernanda approached the window, peering out into the night where, under the faint illumination of the streetlights, she observed him scale the wall effortlessly. He navigated the ledges until he merged with the shadows. She stooped to retrieve the object he had left--a sleek black card. The night's disruptions had been met with suitable compensation--a fair recompense. Fernanda pocketed the card and drew the curtains closed. The following morning, the butler approached Fernanda with a look of concern etched across his face. "Miss Morgan, I hope you managed to rest last night. There was an inspection for a burglary, which stirred quite the disturbance." She shrugged casually and muttered, "It was fine." As they drove, the butler stole glances at Fernanda through the rearview mirror. Reclined in her seat, she gazed out the window, her elegant profile cast in contemplative silence. He mused quietly to himself that she did not embody the typical country-raised youth. Her calm sophistication and graceful demeanor set her apart, enhancing her natural charm and making her an effortlessly endearing presence. After two days of travel, Fernanda stepped into the bustling streets of Esaham. The city was a teeming metropolis, alive with vibrant streets and a relentless stream of traffic. Shortly after 8 a.m., a stretch Lincoln limousine glided into the upscale estate of Dawn Villas, coming to a halt in front of a majestic three-story white villa. Stepping gracefully from the limousine, Fernanda let her eyes wander over the grandeur of the building before her. The villa, both opulent and imposing, was a testament to vast wealth. Her lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile as she gave it a scrutinizing glance. This was her father Robert Morgan's residence. From humble beginnings, he had climbed to wealth and status with her late mother's support. After amassing his fortune, Robert had coldly cast aside her mother, choosing to revel in a relationship with his mistress. That woman--Michelle Morgan--had contributed nothing to his success, yet she now sat smugly in the seat Fernanda's mother had rightfully earned. She basked in the luxuries and respect that were never hers to claim. Worse still, Michelle had dared to flaunt her victory, parading her stolen life before Fernanda's grieving mother, a cruelty that had ultimately led to Fernanda's mother's untimely death. To the world, Michelle was seen as Robert's second wife, a symbol of grace and charm. Michelle even had the audacity to claim she was Fernanda's real mother. But Fernanda knew better. Behind the polished veneer lay the truth, raw and unforgiving. Fernanda's dark eyes momentarily hardened, a flicker of steely determination glinting within them. Her mother was no longer here to seek justice, but Fernanda vowed she would deliver it on her behalf. Just then, the villa's grand door swung open, revealing the pair responsible for the upheaval in her life. Robert stood tall and pristine, the sharp lines of his tailored suit accentuating his stature. His gold-rimmed glasses reflected the warm light, adding an air of calculated sophistication. At his side was Michelle, the very picture of elegance. Her fitted dress clung perfectly to her poised figure, exuding refinement and composure. "Fernanda, you've come back." Robert greeted warmly, a smile playing on his lips as he waved her over. "Come in." Fernanda's eyes darted downward, concealing the storm of emotions swirling within her. With a tentative step, she moved closer. Robert, with an arm encircling Michelle's waist, introduced her with a gesture. "Fernanda, this is your mother." With a casual wave toward the living room, he remarked, "And that's Erika, your sister." On the couch, Erika Morgan was engaged with the television, only looking up when Fernanda approached. Her eyes narrowed judgmentally at Fernanda's plain dress, her face contorting into a sneer. With an exaggerated eye-roll and a sarcastic tone, Erika muttered, "That country bumpkin? Dad, she's no sister of mine." Michelle approached Fernanda with a warm smile, linking her arm with Fernanda's. "Oh, Fernanda, Erika's just teasing. Pay her no mind. I've prepared breakfast for you. You must be starving. Let's have something to eat." Silently, Fernanda slipped her arm free and strode with determined steps into the dining room. Michelle paused, her smile faltering as a shadow of confusion crossed her face. She turned to Robert, her voice tinged with concern. "Robert, what's gotten into her?" He sighed, his voice a blend of empathy and resignation, "Fernanda was raised in the countryside. She's a bit unrefined, that's all. It's nothing against you, Michelle." Michelle nodded slowly, a soft smile reclaiming her features. "No worries," she murmured, her resolve firming. "I'll guide her as she settles in, teach her the essentials of elegance, and shape her into a poised young woman." Robert gave a supportive pat on her back, his expression one of appreciative assurance. In the dining room, Michelle seated herself next to Fernanda. "Fernanda, you must try this beef," she insisted, placing a tender slice onto Fernanda's plate. "It's Erika's favorite." Fernanda responded by promptly lifting the beef from her plate and dropping it into an empty plate with a clear look of disgust. "That's gross," she stated flatly, her voice void of any warmth. Chapter 3 How Could You Lie? The moment those words left Fernanda's lips, the entire table came to a standstill, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Erika, her patience fraying, brought her hand down hard on the table and demanded, "Country bumpkin, what are you even saying? My mom was kind enough to offer you this beef, and you have the nerve to be rude about it?" Fernanda met their astonished looks with a mask of feigned innocence. "I was clearly referring to the beef," she said with a deliberate pause. "It's raw and quite frankly, it looks unappetizing. What else could I possibly mean?" "You..." Erika's retort faltered, caught in her throat. Admitting that she thought Fernanda was insulting Michelle was out of the question. With a slow, calculated blink, Fernanda went on, "Unless, perhaps, you think there's something even more gross on this table than the raw beef?" At this, Erika's face registered sheer astonishment, and for a split second, her voice seemed to have deserted her entirely. Not a single word could she muster. It was Michelle who broke the awkward silence, interjecting smoothly, "Fernanda, the dish you're referring to is called beef tartare. It's a renowned delicacy made from top-notch beef and a pasteurized egg, typically found in high-end dining establishments. Perhaps it's something you've not had the opportunity to try before." Her voice subtly implied that Fernanda's simpler past might not have included such refined culinary experiences. Fernanda allowed a mischievous smirk to play at the corners of her lips and replied, "Our ancestors honed an array of sophisticated recipes and techniques. They certainly didn't refine these culinary arts for us to regress to consuming raw meat as if we were lost in the wild." Michelle's expression briefly betrayed a touch of discomfort, yet she managed to sustain a polite smile, nodding her agreement somewhat rigidly. "You bring up a valid point, I'll give you that." "I agree. I'm not fond of beef tartare either," Robert added with a nod, his gaze settling on Fernanda with evident pride. "I've always preferred classic tastes myself. It seems Fernanda has inherited that from me." Fernanda offered a subdued smile, delicately wiping her fork on a napkin after attempting the beef tartare, then resumed eating with a composed demeanor, seemingly unaffected by Erika's glaring resentment. Michelle suddenly ventured a soft query. "Fernanda, which university are you attending these days? Erika is at Luminary University, one of the top schools in the country. What about you?" At this, Erika's face morphed into a self-satisfied grin. Robert's tone grew cooler as he intervened on Fernanda's behalf. "I've spoken to a few contacts back in Fernanda's hometown. Currently, she isn't enrolled in any university." Michelle's eyes went wide, her voice cutting through the silence as she blurted, "What did you just say? Fernanda isn't attending any university? That simply cannot be! What will happen when the Harpers find out? Mrs. Harper had just mentioned a few days ago that they were planning a grand welcome party for Fernanda upon her return. If they learn she's not enrolled anywhere, it could be disastrous." Robert intervened, his tone laced with irritation, cutting through Michelle's rising panic. "Enough. I will take care of Fernanda's education myself." From the corner, Erika couldn't suppress a snicker. Imagining Fernanda managing to sneak into some low-ranked school through connections was downright amusing to her. The Harper family, celebrating the arrival of what Erika considered a rural nobody, was an absurd thought. Fernanda's crude and graceless demeanor would certainly earn their disapproval the moment they saw her. Erika found Bobby Harper quite charming, but his family's insistence on honoring their promise to engage him to Fernanda and pushing Robert to reintegrate Fernanda into their circles seemed ridiculously foolish to her. She was convinced that the Harper family would never develop an affinity for someone as lacking in education as Fernanda. The mood around the table grew tense as they discussed Fernanda's academic prospects. Amidst the awkward silence, Fernanda herself reached for a napkin, dabbing at her lips gracefully. "I have already registered to take the entrance exam for Esaham University," she announced, her voice steady and clear. "Assuming all goes well, I plan to attend there in the near future." Erika was caught off guard and, for a moment, was speechless before she burst into unrestrained laughter. The idea that Esaham University, the most prestigious in the nation where seats were as coveted as gold, would allow Fernanda to take the entrance exam was laughable. Clearly, this was a lie. Robert's demeanor hardened, his eyes narrowing with a frosty glare. He furrowed his brow in disapproval and said sternly, "Fernanda, how could you lie about being granted the opportunity to take the entrance exam for Esaham University? Was lying the only lesson you picked up in your little hometown?" "Honey, calm down," Michelle interjected quickly. "Fernanda was only trying to impress you." Turning to Fernanda with a soft, maternal expression, Michelle remarked in a soothing tone, "There's no shame in skipping college, Fernanda. You don't have to pretend or feel lesser because of it. We're family here, and we don't judge you on such matters." Her words, though gentle, were saturated with disbelief, assuming Fernanda was fabricating her story. Fernanda, without a word of defense, simply pulled out her smartphone. After a few taps, she pushed it across the table towards the center. Everyone leaned in to see the display. Erika's laughter stopped abruptly as she stared at the screen. Displayed prominently was Fernanda's Esaham University entrance exam admission ticket, complete with her photo and name in bold. Snatching the phone, Erika's eyes grew wide as she inspected it repeatedly. Her anger boiling over, she tossed it away and exclaimed, "This can't be real! You edited this, didn't you?" Chapter 4 This Girl Is Something Else "This isn't a photo--it's an online document," Fernanda stated in an even tone, her voice steady and clear. "Notice the Esaham University web address at the top?" Erika was at a loss for words. Her complexion lost its color as silence enveloped her. Entry to Esaham University was notoriously difficult, achievable only through the rigorous standardized exam or by excelling in the university's specialized admission test. This test was reserved for the truly outstanding, drawing candidates from diverse disciplines and making the chance to compete a rare gem. How did Fernanda manage to secure a spot to attend the admission test? Suddenly, Robert's hand was on Fernanda's phone, his eyes scanning the text again and again. Any annoyance he felt quickly dissipated, replaced by bubbling excitement. A rich, joyful laughter escaped him as he declared, "Brilliant, Fernanda! Absolutely brilliant!" The way Fernanda managed to secure such an incredible opportunity didn't concern him. What mattered most to him was the overwhelming pride he felt, knowing she had this chance to take the exam. With a stiff smile and a voice laced with tension, Michelle replied, "Yes, well done." "What's so great about that?" Erika scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's not as if she's actually going to pass." "But it's certainly better than not being qualified to try at all, right?" Fernanda retorted smoothly. Color rushed to Erika's cheeks, her anger palpable. She slammed her fork down, the clatter echoing sharply. "I've had enough!" she declared vehemently, before storming off in a huff. After dinner, Robert and Michelle walked Fernanda to her cozy and thoughtfully prepared room. The room was airy and uncluttered, resonating with Fernanda's love for understated elegance. "Across the hall is your sister's room," Michelle explained, her voice carrying a warm undertone. "Next to yours is your elder brother's. He's often caught up with work commitments and rarely at home. Your younger brother, who's currently at a summer camp overseas, has his room beside Erika's." She continued, a smile softening her features, "If there's anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, please don't hesitate to tell me, dear." Robert watched Michelle with a look of quiet approval. "Thank you," Fernanda murmured, her eyes downcast as she spoke. "I think I'll take a shower now." At that, Robert and Michelle excused themselves, leaving Fernanda to her privacy. As she stepped under the spray, cool water washed over her, drenching her face and lending a luminous sheen to her eyes. They sparkled against the backdrop of water droplets on her lashes, enhancing the serene yet frosty allure of her features. Once out of the shower, Fernanda blow-dried her hair until it was just damp. As Fernanda from the bathroom, she dug through the suitcase and found a photo of Hiram Hammond. The photo was a solemn memorial portrait of Hiram. Though not bound to her by blood, he had nurtured her with unwavering care and affection. To Fernanda, he was her entire world, her only family. That cherished photo, a tribute to his memory, was something she couldn't afford to lose. Gazing at the kind, gentle face in the photo, Fernanda was enveloped by a surge of affection. With gentle hands, she cleaned the photograph and lovingly placed it on a side table in the room. Within the next two days, the villa had welcomed two additional guests--Michelle's nephew and niece. The man exhibited an unseemly ltfulness, with his gaze persistently fixed on Fernanda whenever he could manage. Meanwhile, the woman had aligned herself with Erika, openly manifesting her contempt and animosity toward Fernanda through both overt and subtle jabs. Disenchanted by their presence, Fernanda chose to distance herself from the villa's stifling atmosphere. As the sun dawdled on the brink of the horizon, the evening air, warm yet prickled with tension, brushed against her. Seeking a brief escape, Fernanda wandered to a convenience store and picked up a can of cold beer. Positioned against a lamppost, she deftly popped open the can single-handedly. The refreshing chill of the beer soothed her throat as she drank. A slight tilt of her head caused the collar of her shirt to shift delicately, exposing the elegant contour of her collarbone. With an air of sophistication, her neck arched gracefully, like someone relishing a glass of champagne in an exclusive bar. Having savored the last drop, Fernanda tossed the can with a casual flick of her wrist, watching it arc smoothly into the bin with a satisfying clink. Not far off, someone hidden in the dim interior of a black sedan watched intently. Bobby, palpably impressed, turned to his companion and remarked with a mix of awe and admiration, "Cristian, this girl is something else!" Chapter 5 Attacked Cristian Reed, who was sprawling in the backseat, remained silent, his eyes firmly shut. "Wow, the girl is stunning! Check out those legs--so beautiful and flawless! Did you see her toss that can, Cristian? She's got skills that could rival yours!" Bobby's incessant babble finally pierced Cristian's reserve. With a sigh, Cristian's eyes fluttered open. Just then, the headlights from an approaching vehicle swept across his face, accentuating its angular contours and highlighting a small mole beneath his eye. Drawing out his words, Cristian replied with a lazy drawl, his voice a deep, soothing rumble laced with a trace of exhaustion, "Aren't you getting engaged soon? Isn't the eldest Morgan daughter meant to be yours?" Bobby visibly flinched at the mention, his expression contorting into one of clear distaste. "She's nothing but a stray who got lost as a child and grew up in some nowhere place. Who's to say she isn't just a goddamn ugly rural bumpkin? My friends probably see me as some unlucky fool. Cristian, you are my cousin. You should not make fun of me like they do!" Cristian merely crossed his arms, extending his long legs and settling back more comfortably without a word. The silence seemed to deepen Bobby's frustration, as if sealing his fate. Yet, as Bobby's eyes landed on the girl's striking figure under the streetlight again, his mood shifted, and a flicker of curiosity lit up his face. With a playful grin, Bobby lowered the window and leaned slightly out, his tone dripping with charm. "Hey there, gorgeous. Can I offer you a ride?" "No, thank you." Her words were crisp and frosty, cutting through the evening like a cold breeze, leaving a chill that touched both men. In the backseat, Cristian's body tensed. His eyes snapped open, his head whipping around toward the sound of the voice. That voice? It unmistakably belonged to the girl he had met in that dimly lit motel. Cristian acted with such swiftness that he seemed to blur the lines between thought and action as he swung the car door open and emerged. Fernanda mistook his approach for a mere flirtatious gesture. Without giving him another thought, she turned away and continued on her path. She had only taken a few steps when she felt a strong, unyielding grip halt her progress. She spun around, coming face-to-face with the man who had stopped her. Towering and strikingly handsome, he possessed an aura of undeniable presence. One hand was nonchalantly placed in his pocket, while the other securely grasped her arm. His piercing gaze locked with hers. "Well, if it isn't you!" Cristian muttered slowly, a hint of recognition in his voice. "Seems like we keep meeting, huh?" Fernanda's eyes flickered with surprise as she realized who he was--the man from that unforgettable night. Given that he was a dangerous fugitive, she wanted to keep her distance from him. Swiftly regaining her composure, she adopted an aloof demeanor. "I'm sorry, sir. You must be mistaken," she replied evenly. "No," Cristian responded, his voice low and steady, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "A debt of gratitude is something I never forget." His remark revealed a depth to his character. For Cristian, repaying a good deed wasn't just a courtesy--it was a principle he lived by. Meanwhile, Bobby had exited the car and now stood a short distance away, his expression one of utter bewilderment. "What's going on?" he inquired. Cristian brushed off Bobby's presence, focusing instead on holding the car door open for Fernanda with a subtle nod. Fernanda stayed rooted in place, her gaze sharp with caution. "What do you mean by that?" "I'd like to take you to dinner. Would you join me?" Cristian urged with a warm, inviting smile. It came across as a question, but Fernanda could discern from the inflection in his voice that he wasn't genuinely offering her an option to decline. Her familiarity with his nature left no room for misunderstanding. Refusing him might only provoke him to force her into the car himself. With a sigh, she gave a subdued nod. "Fine." A faint smile flickered across Cristian's face as he graciously gestured for her to enter, then smoothly took his place behind the wheel. Bobby blinked in shock, his mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me, Cristian. This is incredible!" Cristian had effortlessly ensnared the alluring girl with a mere handful of words, an accomplishment Bobby found profoundly impressive. As Bobby tried the back door, he found it unexpectedly locked. "Cristian?" he inquired, a hint of confusion in his tone. Cristian commanded firmly, "Leave." Frozen in place in the brisk evening air, Bobby watched the sleek black car vanish into the shadows of the night. He was the first to spot the girl! Why had they left him behind? Inside the car, Cristian shattered the lingering silence by firing off a torrent of questions. "Are you from Esaham or Zhota?" "Zhota," she answered softly. "And your name?" "Letty Molina." "How old are you?" "Twenty-five," Fernanda replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Cristian stole a sideways glance at her, his voice laced with skepticism. "Doesn't seem like it." "Reality seldom mirrors our expectations," Fernanda replied, her tone unwavering. "Take your appearance, for instance. In that impeccable suit, you're the perfect picture of a business tycoon. Yet, you're the same fugitive I stumbled upon the other night." Cristian couldn't help but laugh, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You do have a point." Fernanda was finally no longer feigning ignorance about their past encounter. Cristian was relieved. Had she chosen to continue her charade, he had his own methods to have her drop the act. As usual, Esaham's traffic was a snarled mess. Cristian veered onto a less congested side street, hoping to evade the endless sea of cars. Breaking the silence, he suggested, "I know a cozy spot run by a Zhota native--serves excellent food. Let's head there." "Sure," she replied, her tone calm but firm. Just as Fernanda's reply hung in the air, a jarring crash echoed from behind, jolting the car forward. She was thrust back, the seatbelt gnawing into her shoulder. Cristian's gaze darted to the rearview mirror. Suddenly, a van cut sharply across their path, blocking them. On either side, vehicles converged, spilling out men brandishing grim tools, their silhouettes ominous in the dim streetlight. Without hesitation, Cristian reached into the center console, retrieving a knfe. "Whatever happens, keep yourself inside the car. Don't even think about stepping out," he instructed firmly, pressing her back into the seat. With a resolute nod, he went on, "I'll take care of them, and afterward, dinner's on me." Cristian wrapped up his conversation, offering Fernanda a fleeting smile that appeared untouched by the surrounding tension. Fernanda folded her arms and settled deeper into her seat, her face a mask of tranquility as she observed Cristian approach the group of armed adversaries. The scene was stark--one man facing off against a throng armed to the teeth. The odds were clearly not in his favor. Yet, as Cristian lifted his foot and dispatched two of the men to the ground with a single, silent kick, Fernanda took note of his precision and power. His technique spoke of extensive training and raw capability. The gang, incited by Cristian's defiance, rushed at him collectively. Sticks sliced through the air, each strike landing with a dense thud that echoed menace. Cristian, however, danced through the tumult with a grace that seemed almost serene. Despite their advantage in numbers, his assailants found themselves floundering to overpower him. One attacker received a blunt punch straight to the face, staggering backward and eventually collapsing against the hood of Cristian's car. As he dabbed at the bl**d dripping from his nose, the man snarled in rage. Catching sight of Fernanda inside the vehicle, a sinister idea sparked within him... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67179322-fb_contact-e	Fragrant Fiction	https://www.facebook.com/61565957015132/	55	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67179322-fb_contact-enj83_6-0110-c3-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=060236&accid=1721275375067958&exdata=303AD0586C0A3DED306C4F7109416154CB4C5F9E7B9FB5D4	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475031489_1349156846267302_6630509588118479390_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=9o41cFlNrTAQ7kNvgHQGvZ9&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-2.fna&_nc_gid=A8H35E_EYNFn3WspLX65ljl&oh=00_AYBJuoSFV_D_mfR7ZcfBJ6cxHOa0cQJvTCCvxX-00jjQww&oe=67A63D91	PERSON_PROFILE	Fragrant Fiction	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,679,602	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Read next chapter	Ever since my father passed away, Richard had taken on a brotherly role in my life, but he often disapproved of my closeness with other guys. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl. "Tricia, call her sister-in-law." ===== Richard was only a year older than me, but he had always used his role as an older brother to control me. When I was younger, he'd scold me for skipping classes. As I grew older and started dating, he still interfered. One time, my friend joked, "Maybe Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I had tried to keep my distance. But during the holidays, he suddenly brought a girl home. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably. He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears. "You could find a boyfriend to annoy me, but I couldn't do the same to you?" Lately, luck hadn't been on my side. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." It was true. My dad and his dad had been old friends, and ever since my dad passed away, his family had been taking care of us. My mother had always told me to treat Richard like a real brother. Even though we weren't related by blood, he was more responsible than any real brother. Back in school, he would watch me do my homework every day and even lecture me if I skipped class. He was only a year older than me, but he had always acted like an adult. Whenever I did something wrong, he'd scold me faster than my mom. "Tricia, that's not polite. Don't do that." "Tricia, don't talk badly about people behind their backs." The thought that he might like me sent chills down my spine. "Don't say that! You're going to give me nightmares!" After leaving Sandra's house, her words kept echoing in my head, as if they had put a spell on me. That night, I dreamed that Richard cornered me at the stairwell, gripping my chin and ki*sing me forcefully. "Who said you could get a boyfriend?" I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified, and immediately blocked his number. Thankfully, I was about to start my internship and wouldn't be home much longer. When I opened the door the next morning, Richard just happened to be walking by. Instinctively, I stepped back and slammed the door shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his cold, piercing stare. It felt like a blade cutting right through me. Later that evening, we went to his apartment for dinner. In front of everyone, he asked why I had blocked his number. I stammered, unable to come up with a reason, and had no choice but to unblock him. "I must've clicked the wrong button..." Trying to appease him, I offered him a piece of chicken with a flattering smile. "Richard, you look so thin! You should eat more meat." But something I said must've annoyed him because he even moved his plate farther away. "No need." I had found my internship on my own, even though Richard strongly opposed it and insisted I join his company. But this time, I stood my ground and firmly refused. I was too afraid that if we spent too much time together, something would happen. The apartment we were living in had been rented by Richard, thinking I'd work at his company and we'd commute together. But after starting my job, I found a new place to avoid seeing him as much as possible. My mother would text me every day, asking what I wanted to eat. She'd have the servant cook it and then deliver it to me. I'd give her a whole list of dishes, but Richard was always the one who showed up at my door. I almost slammed it shut again. But when I saw the angry look in his eyes, I stopped myself. I forced a smile and took the food container from him. "Richard, I've missed you." He ignored me, walking around the apartment to inspect the place. "Tricia, I send you so much money every month, and this is where you live? Where's all the money gone?" I hadn't touched a cent of the money he gave me. I didn't want to owe him or his family too much. But I didn't dare tell him that. He'd just accuse me of treating him like a stranger. Honestly, my mother gave me plenty of money every month too, but I had a habit of splurging on my favorite celebrities, so I had to cut costs elsewhere. "I'm investing. High returns, you know." Being a fan was an investment, especially for a toptier star like Lanny--his merch was incredibly popular. Once I got him out of my apartment, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I swore I'd never overindulge again! Starting my new job, I often joined my colleagues for meals to fit in better. Eventually, I ran out of money and had to call my mother for help. She transferred $50, 000 to me but gave me a strict warning. "If you waste this money on a man again, I'm cutting you off." Chapter 2 Richard's Furious Because I Spent Money On Another Guy Her voice was so loud that my colleagues started giving me strange looks. I was exasperated. I had explained to her more than once that being a fan just meant liking a celebrity and spending some money on their endorsements. But my mom never listened and kept scolding me. "Spending money on men is pointless! You should be the one letting them spend money on you, got it?" Just as I was about to argue with her again, I heard a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "Mrs. Reynolds, has Tricia gotten a boyfriend?" Why was Richard at my home? Startled, I immediately hung up the phone. The restaurant we picked was pretty popular, and we had to wait over an hour for a table. While we were waiting, a crowd suddenly started gathering. I glanced over and saw Lanny trying to make his way through the mob. Well, no wonder the place was packed--it's a hotspot for celebrities, and fans love to flock to places like this. Lanny saw me and headed my way, with a swarm of fans trailing behind him. It was a little intimidating. Wearing sunglasses, he looked cool, but in reality, he was a total goofball. "Tricia, you're here at my restaurant? Aren't you worried Richard will get angry?" Back in high school, Lanny and I were in the same class. He was great at math, and Sandra and I once went to his house to do homework. He casually put his arm around my shoulder, like we were just buddies, and neither of us thought much of it. But when Richard found out, he beat Lanny up. Ever since then, the two couldn't stand each other. I sighed helplessly. "If I'd known this was your restaurant, I wouldn't have come." I was a fan of Lanny--I went to his concerts and bought his endorsements, but I rarely paid attention to his personal life. One time, he recognized me from the stage and said he'd just give me a ticket next time, but I turned him down. Being a fan meant spending my own money; otherwise, it was not called being a fan, it was just being friends. Lanny handed me a membership card, saying I could eat at his restaurant for free from now on. I took it, thinking that if my mom ever really cut off my funds, at least I'd have a place to get a free meal. After dinner, I got home and saw Richard standing outside my door. I instinctively tried to retreat, but he was quick and called out to me. "Tricia, come here." For some reason, I always felt guilty around Richard. All I ever wanted to do was run away. "Richard, why are you here? Have you eaten yet?" He sneered, and despite it being hot, I felt a chill down my spine. "If I didn't show up, how would I know you're out here spending time with some guy?" I opened the door and explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. But he wasn't having it. He kept pressing, demanding to know who the guy was. I refused to tell him, thinking if he found out I'd spent money on Lanny, he'd beat him heavily. Then he gave me an ultimatum. "A kept man can't make you happy. Break up with him immediately." As I stood up, the card Lanny gave me fell to the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but Richard was faster. He stared at me, eyes full of rage. "You don't even have money for yourself, and you're out here paying for his meals?" I was speechless as he stormed out of the apartment. Two hours later, Laurence, Richard's assistant, called me, practically in tears. "Tricia, what did you do to upset Mr. Stewart this time? I had just finished getting ready for bed when he called me back to the office to revise the proposal. I can't be on call 24/7!" I often visited Richard at his office, so I had gotten close with his secretaries and assistants. Since starting my internship, I knew all too well the pain of being forced to work overtime. Besides, they always gave me useful information--I couldn't just leave them hanging. I called Richard, and he picked up on the third ring, clearly still furious. I was trying to think of a way to coax him without making it obvious, but he was impatient. "Say something." My mind raced. Flattery never failed. "Richard, I heard you're still working overtime? You work so hard! With you in charge, the company is sure to thrive!" He didn't seem impressed. "If I didn't work my butt off, where would you get the money to spoil some guy?" Seeing that talking wouldn't help, I bought some snacks and headed to his office. When I arrived, the lights were still on, even though it was already ten o'clock. The tension in the air was palpable. Before I even reached the conference room, I could already hear Richard's angry voice inside. Chapter 3 I Thought Richard Liked Me, But He Brought Home A Girlfriend "Did I hire you to sit around gossiping all day?" "What kind of proposal is this? Is this your first day on the job? Take it back and redo it." I knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before entering. Everyone inside looked at me as if I were their savior, and I could see the gratitude in their eyes. Richard was caught off guard for a moment--he hadn't expected me to show up. I cleared my throat, walked up to him, and set the food down. "Richard, you should eat something. Mrs. Stewart said you haven't had dinner." He didn't move at first, so I grabbed his arm and guided him toward his office. As I closed the door behind us, I gave the others an "OK" signal. Richard's expression softened a bit, but he still looked like he wasn't in the mood to talk. I brought him a bowl of noodles, and he didn't even leave a single bite of meat. He must've been starving. "Richard, you need to take care of yourself. Work will never end. If you keep this up, your parents will be worried sick." He looked into my eyes, and I saw a mix of emotions--too many for me to make sense of. "And what about you?" I started tidying up the takeout container, avoiding his gaze. "Of course, I'm worried too. Why else would I come looking for you in the middle of the night?" My attempt to coax him worked. He picked up his jacket, slung it over his arm, and got ready to leave. "I'll take you home. It's not safe for you to walk alone at night." In the car, I avoided his eyes, pretending to look out the window at the passing scenery. For several days, I didn't contact Richard. My mom thought we were fighting and kept urging me not to be stubborn. "Don't be so willful. Richard is busy with work, and he still makes time to take care of you." I didn't know how to explain it to her, so I just stayed silent. As work got busier, I pushed the matter to the back of my mind. We spoke occasionally, but only about work-related things. Eventually, he became distant with me. I sighed with relief, but at the same time, I felt an odd emptiness inside. Time flew by, and before I knew it, Christmas was approaching. The company gave us a holiday starting three days before Christmas. Coincidentally, Lanny was holding a concert in Alodon, so I flew over to catch it and even took a photo with him afterward. Lanny said we hadn't taken a picture together in years and asked me to send him one. I did, and moments later, I saw him post it on Facebook. "Great concert! Thanks to all the friends who came from far and wide." When I returned to Pheldence, it was Christmas Eve. For some reason, I couldn't shake this feeling of unease. Every year, our families took turns hosting the family dinner, and this year it was at Richard's house. As soon as I walked in, I heard laughter coming from the living room. I headed toward the sound and saw a gentle, elegant girl sitting on the couch. She had long hair, was dressed in a luxury coat, and carried a limited-edition handbag. Clearly, she was the same type of person as Richard. The most important thing was that she was sitting next to him, with her hand linked through his arm. Richard didn't even look at me. His attention was completely on her. I felt an inexplicable surge of frustration and placed my things on the coffee table a bit too forcefully. My mom shot me a sharp look. "Tricia, can you show some manners? You just walked in, and you're already giving attitude." Richard smiled--barely, but I noticed it. Sitting across from them, their closeness felt glaringly obvious. "So, what should I call you?" I asked the girl. For the first time since I arrived, Richard actually looked at me. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." I didn't know what to say. Suddenly, I understood where that feeling of unease had been coming from. Richard was in a relationship, and I was the one who felt the most hurt. I quickly greeted her, but despite the feast in front of me, everything tasted bland and unappetizing. Once I got home, I rushed to my room, buried myself under the covers, and let the tears flow freely. I didn't know how much time had passed when I suddenly heard the door creak open. I hastily wiped away my tears, pretending to be asleep. Someone walked slowly to my bedside. I could feel his gaze on me as he crouched down. He pulled at my blanket, and though I clung to it, I couldn't match his strength. I opened my eyes to see Richard standing by my bed with a faint smile. "Tricia, why are you crying just because I'm in a relationship?" ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,341	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-enad50_2-250126-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=233925549638247&exdata=FC3EB673E6B15A8491416B4BA5DD465A0E4C6598B610D1F6	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475157408_621342091053609_4577147305596639730_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=asg4D9pOc3wQ7kNvgGVIw5B&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-1.fna&_nc_gid=Aqw6wxbKep6zoawjqele523&oh=00_AYCfEh6HBa-JAmYt6569OE-GTxm44pgdXY35d7uU4_eMMg&oe=67A6322C	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,679,605	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Read next chapter	Ever since my father passed away, Richard had taken on a brotherly role in my life, but he often disapproved of my closeness with other guys. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl. "Tricia, call her sister-in-law." ===== Richard was only a year older than me, but he had always used his role as an older brother to control me. When I was younger, he'd scold me for skipping classes. As I grew older and started dating, he still interfered. One time, my friend joked, "Maybe Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I had tried to keep my distance. But during the holidays, he suddenly brought a girl home. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably. He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears. "You could find a boyfriend to annoy me, but I couldn't do the same to you?" Lately, luck hadn't been on my side. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." It was true. My dad and his dad had been old friends, and ever since my dad passed away, his family had been taking care of us. My mother had always told me to treat Richard like a real brother. Even though we weren't related by blood, he was more responsible than any real brother. Back in school, he would watch me do my homework every day and even lecture me if I skipped class. He was only a year older than me, but he had always acted like an adult. Whenever I did something wrong, he'd scold me faster than my mom. "Tricia, that's not polite. Don't do that." "Tricia, don't talk badly about people behind their backs." The thought that he might like me sent chills down my spine. "Don't say that! You're going to give me nightmares!" After leaving Sandra's house, her words kept echoing in my head, as if they had put a spell on me. That night, I dreamed that Richard cornered me at the stairwell, gripping my chin and ki*sing me forcefully. "Who said you could get a boyfriend?" I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified, and immediately blocked his number. Thankfully, I was about to start my internship and wouldn't be home much longer. When I opened the door the next morning, Richard just happened to be walking by. Instinctively, I stepped back and slammed the door shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his cold, piercing stare. It felt like a blade cutting right through me. Later that evening, we went to his apartment for dinner. In front of everyone, he asked why I had blocked his number. I stammered, unable to come up with a reason, and had no choice but to unblock him. "I must've clicked the wrong button..." Trying to appease him, I offered him a piece of chicken with a flattering smile. "Richard, you look so thin! You should eat more meat." But something I said must've annoyed him because he even moved his plate farther away. "No need." I had found my internship on my own, even though Richard strongly opposed it and insisted I join his company. But this time, I stood my ground and firmly refused. I was too afraid that if we spent too much time together, something would happen. The apartment we were living in had been rented by Richard, thinking I'd work at his company and we'd commute together. But after starting my job, I found a new place to avoid seeing him as much as possible. My mother would text me every day, asking what I wanted to eat. She'd have the servant cook it and then deliver it to me. I'd give her a whole list of dishes, but Richard was always the one who showed up at my door. I almost slammed it shut again. But when I saw the angry look in his eyes, I stopped myself. I forced a smile and took the food container from him. "Richard, I've missed you." He ignored me, walking around the apartment to inspect the place. "Tricia, I send you so much money every month, and this is where you live? Where's all the money gone?" I hadn't touched a cent of the money he gave me. I didn't want to owe him or his family too much. But I didn't dare tell him that. He'd just accuse me of treating him like a stranger. Honestly, my mother gave me plenty of money every month too, but I had a habit of splurging on my favorite celebrities, so I had to cut costs elsewhere. "I'm investing. High returns, you know." Being a fan was an investment, especially for a toptier star like Lanny--his merch was incredibly popular. Once I got him out of my apartment, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I swore I'd never overindulge again! Starting my new job, I often joined my colleagues for meals to fit in better. Eventually, I ran out of money and had to call my mother for help. She transferred $50, 000 to me but gave me a strict warning. "If you waste this money on a man again, I'm cutting you off." Chapter 2 Richard's Furious Because I Spent Money On Another Guy Her voice was so loud that my colleagues started giving me strange looks. I was exasperated. I had explained to her more than once that being a fan just meant liking a celebrity and spending some money on their endorsements. But my mom never listened and kept scolding me. "Spending money on men is pointless! You should be the one letting them spend money on you, got it?" Just as I was about to argue with her again, I heard a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "Mrs. Reynolds, has Tricia gotten a boyfriend?" Why was Richard at my home? Startled, I immediately hung up the phone. The restaurant we picked was pretty popular, and we had to wait over an hour for a table. While we were waiting, a crowd suddenly started gathering. I glanced over and saw Lanny trying to make his way through the mob. Well, no wonder the place was packed--it's a hotspot for celebrities, and fans love to flock to places like this. Lanny saw me and headed my way, with a swarm of fans trailing behind him. It was a little intimidating. Wearing sunglasses, he looked cool, but in reality, he was a total goofball. "Tricia, you're here at my restaurant? Aren't you worried Richard will get angry?" Back in high school, Lanny and I were in the same class. He was great at math, and Sandra and I once went to his house to do homework. He casually put his arm around my shoulder, like we were just buddies, and neither of us thought much of it. But when Richard found out, he beat Lanny up. Ever since then, the two couldn't stand each other. I sighed helplessly. "If I'd known this was your restaurant, I wouldn't have come." I was a fan of Lanny--I went to his concerts and bought his endorsements, but I rarely paid attention to his personal life. One time, he recognized me from the stage and said he'd just give me a ticket next time, but I turned him down. Being a fan meant spending my own money; otherwise, it was not called being a fan, it was just being friends. Lanny handed me a membership card, saying I could eat at his restaurant for free from now on. I took it, thinking that if my mom ever really cut off my funds, at least I'd have a place to get a free meal. After dinner, I got home and saw Richard standing outside my door. I instinctively tried to retreat, but he was quick and called out to me. "Tricia, come here." For some reason, I always felt guilty around Richard. All I ever wanted to do was run away. "Richard, why are you here? Have you eaten yet?" He sneered, and despite it being hot, I felt a chill down my spine. "If I didn't show up, how would I know you're out here spending time with some guy?" I opened the door and explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. But he wasn't having it. He kept pressing, demanding to know who the guy was. I refused to tell him, thinking if he found out I'd spent money on Lanny, he'd beat him heavily. Then he gave me an ultimatum. "A kept man can't make you happy. Break up with him immediately." As I stood up, the card Lanny gave me fell to the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but Richard was faster. He stared at me, eyes full of rage. "You don't even have money for yourself, and you're out here paying for his meals?" I was speechless as he stormed out of the apartment. Two hours later, Laurence, Richard's assistant, called me, practically in tears. "Tricia, what did you do to upset Mr. Stewart this time? I had just finished getting ready for bed when he called me back to the office to revise the proposal. I can't be on call 24/7!" I often visited Richard at his office, so I had gotten close with his secretaries and assistants. Since starting my internship, I knew all too well the pain of being forced to work overtime. Besides, they always gave me useful information--I couldn't just leave them hanging. I called Richard, and he picked up on the third ring, clearly still furious. I was trying to think of a way to coax him without making it obvious, but he was impatient. "Say something." My mind raced. Flattery never failed. "Richard, I heard you're still working overtime? You work so hard! With you in charge, the company is sure to thrive!" He didn't seem impressed. "If I didn't work my butt off, where would you get the money to spoil some guy?" Seeing that talking wouldn't help, I bought some snacks and headed to his office. When I arrived, the lights were still on, even though it was already ten o'clock. The tension in the air was palpable. Before I even reached the conference room, I could already hear Richard's angry voice inside. Chapter 3 I Thought Richard Liked Me, But He Brought Home A Girlfriend "Did I hire you to sit around gossiping all day?" "What kind of proposal is this? Is this your first day on the job? Take it back and redo it." I knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before entering. Everyone inside looked at me as if I were their savior, and I could see the gratitude in their eyes. Richard was caught off guard for a moment--he hadn't expected me to show up. I cleared my throat, walked up to him, and set the food down. "Richard, you should eat something. Mrs. Stewart said you haven't had dinner." He didn't move at first, so I grabbed his arm and guided him toward his office. As I closed the door behind us, I gave the others an "OK" signal. Richard's expression softened a bit, but he still looked like he wasn't in the mood to talk. I brought him a bowl of noodles, and he didn't even leave a single bite of meat. He must've been starving. "Richard, you need to take care of yourself. Work will never end. If you keep this up, your parents will be worried sick." He looked into my eyes, and I saw a mix of emotions--too many for me to make sense of. "And what about you?" I started tidying up the takeout container, avoiding his gaze. "Of course, I'm worried too. Why else would I come looking for you in the middle of the night?" My attempt to coax him worked. He picked up his jacket, slung it over his arm, and got ready to leave. "I'll take you home. It's not safe for you to walk alone at night." In the car, I avoided his eyes, pretending to look out the window at the passing scenery. For several days, I didn't contact Richard. My mom thought we were fighting and kept urging me not to be stubborn. "Don't be so willful. Richard is busy with work, and he still makes time to take care of you." I didn't know how to explain it to her, so I just stayed silent. As work got busier, I pushed the matter to the back of my mind. We spoke occasionally, but only about work-related things. Eventually, he became distant with me. I sighed with relief, but at the same time, I felt an odd emptiness inside. Time flew by, and before I knew it, Christmas was approaching. The company gave us a holiday starting three days before Christmas. Coincidentally, Lanny was holding a concert in Alodon, so I flew over to catch it and even took a photo with him afterward. Lanny said we hadn't taken a picture together in years and asked me to send him one. I did, and moments later, I saw him post it on Facebook. "Great concert! Thanks to all the friends who came from far and wide." When I returned to Pheldence, it was Christmas Eve. For some reason, I couldn't shake this feeling of unease. Every year, our families took turns hosting the family dinner, and this year it was at Richard's house. As soon as I walked in, I heard laughter coming from the living room. I headed toward the sound and saw a gentle, elegant girl sitting on the couch. She had long hair, was dressed in a luxury coat, and carried a limited-edition handbag. Clearly, she was the same type of person as Richard. The most important thing was that she was sitting next to him, with her hand linked through his arm. Richard didn't even look at me. His attention was completely on her. I felt an inexplicable surge of frustration and placed my things on the coffee table a bit too forcefully. My mom shot me a sharp look. "Tricia, can you show some manners? You just walked in, and you're already giving attitude." Richard smiled--barely, but I noticed it. Sitting across from them, their closeness felt glaringly obvious. "So, what should I call you?" I asked the girl. For the first time since I arrived, Richard actually looked at me. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." I didn't know what to say. Suddenly, I understood where that feeling of unease had been coming from. Richard was in a relationship, and I was the one who felt the most hurt. I quickly greeted her, but despite the feast in front of me, everything tasted bland and unappetizing. Once I got home, I rushed to my room, buried myself under the covers, and let the tears flow freely. I didn't know how much time had passed when I suddenly heard the door creak open. I hastily wiped away my tears, pretending to be asleep. Someone walked slowly to my bedside. I could feel his gaze on me as he crouched down. He pulled at my blanket, and though I clung to it, I couldn't match his strength. I opened my eyes to see Richard standing by my bed with a faint smile. "Tricia, why are you crying just because I'm in a relationship?" ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,341	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-enad50_2-250126-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=233925549638247&exdata=FC3EB673E6B15A849AE5B610AF9D91617B4F80E793A49375	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475153306_1277839286664961_1325546801249189766_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=csc84OLN3-gQ7kNvgE3Cuq3&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-2.fna&_nc_gid=Aqw6wxbKep6zoawjqele523&oh=00_AYCU7sGpw-qQOGHp6j-l_J9naJal3nVPvx89wjEJxN_SZA&oe=67A64E4B	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,679,680	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-03 01:27	active	2451	Read next chapter	After being released, her malicious stepsister threatened her with their mother's life and tried to send her to an older man. On her way to "sacrifice" herself, she unexpectedly met a mafia kingpin. She took the initiative to seduce him for a partnership. From then on, she turned the tables—tearing apart the fake angel, slapping her stepmother, and refusing to be bullied again! ===== On the day Khloe Evans was put on trial by her fiance, it was raining heavily. "Khloe Evans, you are suspected of bribing competition judges, academic fraud, and attempted homicide. Do you plead guilty or not?" Inside the silent and solemn courtroom, the judge's gavel echoed, signaling the start of a tense moment. Khloe's bldshot eyes were filled with anger and desperation, staring at Eric Watson, her fiance. She couldn't help but sneer. They had spent four years from falling in love to getting married; she had always believed that he loved her deeply and that their married life would be blissful. But on their wedding day, he personally put her on trial because of her stepsister's words. The Watson family was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. No one would dare to offend them for a nobody like her. Khloe said word by word, "I have nothing to say." All along, she thought Eric was the love of her life. But it turned out he had been having an aair with her stepsister, Sloane Evans. What was more, he had stolen her academic achievements. And now, he falsely accused her of being a mrderer. He was ruthless. What else could she say? The judge banged his gavel again and gave his verdict. "The court hereby sentences the defendant, Khloe Evans, to eight years in prison and a fine of three hundred thousand dollars." The trial concluded, and the prison guards escorted Khloe. As she walked out of the courtroom, Khloe turned and looked back at Eric, sitting in the plaintiff's seat, her eyes burning with deep hatred and fury. ...... Three years had passed. "Khloe Evans, someone has bailed you out. You're free to go." Upon hearing that, Khloe raised her head, her pale face filled with shock. After suffering from endless torture for three years, she had thought that she was bound to stay there for the full sentence. She didn't expect that she would be released one day. An hour after she was released from prison, Khloe was taken to a hospital. She entered a ward, and her heart clenched when she saw her mother through the ICU door, lying motionless in the hospital bed. With a pale face and various apparatus connected to her body, she looked lifeless. "Mom..." Khloe got all worked up, her voice trembling with emotion. She wanted to open the door and go in. "Stop it! This ward is specially secured. No one is allowed to enter without my permission." A female voice suddenly rang out behind her. Khloe turned around and was surprised to see the person who spoke. "Sloane? My mom severed ties with the Evans family long ago. Why are you still doing this to her?" As she spoke, she glared at Sloane with eyes full of hatred. Sloane looked at Khloe, a flicker of jealousy and disdain flashing across her eyes. Then, she sneered, "Khloe, looks like you are mistaken. I'm saving her. Without me, your mother would have died long ago. Perhaps, by the time you come out of prison, you will only see her tomb." Khloe took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Sloane, stop being so hypocritical. You are saving my mother? Only a fool will believe that. What are you really up to? You're using her to manipulate me, right?" "Khloe, you're as clever as ever. No wonder they called you the rising star of academia. But it's a pity that you are now a convict for attempted murder. And your fate is in my hands," Sloane taunted. "So, today, all you need to do is spend a night with Karl Russell. Then, I'll arrange for your release and your mother's treatment." "Karl Russell? That old man is already in his sixties. Are you out of your mind?" Khloe's eyes widened in disbelief. "So what? Should I care? It's you who are going to sleep with him, not me. As long as you spend one night with him, our family can secure the Russell family's arms deal. It's a very lucrative business. You should feel honored that you are selling out your body to make so much money for us. But if you refuse..." Sloane pointed to the ICU. "I'll have them remove your mom's life support, and she'll die right in front of you. I'll give you five seconds to decide. Five, four, three..." "Fine! I'll go," Khloe agreed in despair. This time, she could no longer suppress the tears she had been holding back. She was left with no choice. For the sake of her mother, she had to do it. After freshening up, Khloe was put into a car. Tonight, she was destined to sleep with a sixty-something disgusting man. And she was still a vgin. Chapter 2 Henrik Watson That night, the car glided through the deserted streets, headlights cutting into the night's inky darkness. Bang! A gnshot shattered the silence, deafening and ominously close. Glass sprayed across the seats as the car window exploded, fragments glittering in the dim streetlights. All hell broke loose. Terrified creams echoed in the street as the few remaining shops hurried to lower their shutters. The driver, white-faced and trembling, veered in a panic. The car skidded, tires screeching before slamming into the curb. He slumped forward, unconscious. Beside him, Khloe blinked, disoriented from the impact. Pressing a hand to her throbbing head, she tried to make sense of what had happened. Through the cracked window, she glimpsed flickering orange flames a short distance away. "Oh, no!" She'd stumbled straight into the deadly crossfires of a gnfight. It was likely a turf war turned ugly by two warring gangs. Steadying herself, Khloe pushed open the door and crouched low, inching towards the roadside. But before she could move further, a figure emerged from the darkness. Tall and powerfully built, he was moving fast. Even though a mask obscured most of his features, she could still see his intense eyes and the proud outline of his nose. A dark stain spread across his side, seeping through his clothes--bld. He stumbled towards her, breathing heavily, and collapsed at her feet. Just then, another group of burly men burst from the shadows, each armed to the teeth. Their faces were etched with vicious determination, each bearing a ttoo on the hand. "Perfect! He's down. Now, finish him off!" The leader, bald and snarling, held up his gn and pointed it towards the fallen man. Then, his gaze fell on Khloe. She was dressed to the nines, as she was meant to be a gift for a man tonight. A tight red dress hugged her perfect figure, accentuating her curves and complimenting her porcelain skin. Her glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a delicate, doll-like face with wide, innocent eyes. In a word, she looked like a vision from a dream--or a man's tptation made flesh. The bald man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with leerous intent. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, and he wasn't about to let an opportunity like this slide. "While you're finishing him off, I'll help myself to this beauty." He lunged, shoving Khloe back against the shattered window, pressing his weight against her. "No, please!" she pleaded, her voice trembling as she tried to pull away. "Please don't hurt me." "Why would I hurt a beauty like you?" he taunted, his fingers gripping her shoulder tightly as he leaned closer, his hot breath on her skin. His men jeered behind him, urging him on, enjoying the show. But Khloe's hand moved, almost imperceptibly, reaching into her purse. In one swift, desperate motion, her fingers closed around a pen, and she drove it up into his neck with a fierce thrust. The bald man's eyes widened in shock as bld spurted from the wound, his grip loosening. Gone was the look of a damsel in distress; her eyes, which were so full of fear just a second earlier, now glinted with a cold light. What was once a delicate, angelic beauty had transformed into a bld-stained rose, dark and dangerous. "B*ch, you're asking for it!" The henchmen froze for a split second, then fury overcame them, and they charged at Khloe with murderous intent. Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Don't move, or I'll pull the pen out! He'll bleed out on the spot!" The men abruptly stopped in their tracks. No one dared to move a muscle. At this moment, the man who'd been lying motionless suddenly sprang to life, gn in hand, and unleashed a hail of bllets on the stunned thgs. He moved with such agility that it was clear his injury had only been a ruse. Even the bald man Khloe held hostage collapsed in a bldy heap, a bullet having shattered his skull in an instant. Khloe spun her head just in time, avoiding the bld splatter. But her clothes and legs weren't so lucky; they were stained with bld, sticky and warm. "Ugh!" The sickly, metallic scent hit her, and her stomach churned. She couldn't stop herself from retching, knees buckling as she collapsed sideways. But before she hit the ground, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright. The man's grip was firm, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Feisty little thing, weren't you so badass just a second ago? What happened?" Khloe recoiled, shoving him away, her face twisting in defiance. "Let go of me!" Before she could get another word out, black-clad men suddenly emerged from the shadows, their faces hard, eyes cold. Even the surrounding rooftops showed silhouettes of these men, controlling all sniper points. Each man moved with such deadly precision, and Khloe could tell at a glance that they were all experienced killers. They brandished machine guns and rocket launchers with practiced ease, as though these were everyday items. In a word, they looked like an elite strike force--battle-hardened, lethal. Unexpectedly, one by one, they all started dropping to their knees, as though bowing before a king. Thousands of them bowed in unison. "Awaiting your orders, Mr. Watson," the leader announced reverently. Khloe's breath hitched. "Are you Henrik Watson?" Chapter 3 The Kiss Henrik accepted a handkerchief from his trusted aide, Rhett Foster, wiping the bld from his hands with deliberate, almost regal precision. He then removed his mask slowly, revealing a face that could seize anyone's breath. His eyes were dark, magnetic pools, deep enough to pull anyone in. And above his perfectly-shaped lips was a prominent, sculpted nose. His chiseled features conveyed both power and beauty, almost too flawless to belong to any ordinary man. It was the kind of face that could eclipse even the brightest stars in the showbiz. But more than his appearance, it was his aura--commanding, indomitable--that sent shivers down spines. This was a man who held dominion over countless lives. Henrik smiled, a flash of danger glinting in his eyes. "So what if I am?" Khloe's eyes went as wide as saucers. Henrik Watson--that name carried the weight of legend. Henrik had once been a branch member of the Watson family before vanishing into obscurity for ten long years. When he resurfaced, he singlehandedly seized control of the nation's underworld, rendering him a king without rival. In fact, he was so powerful that even the president treaded carefully around him. Khloe's ex-fiance, Eric, was a member of the Watson family, which had ascended from obscurity to supremacy solely thanks to Henrik. By blood, Eric was Henrik's nephew. So, if her marriage to Eric pushed through, Henrik would be her husband's uncle. Khloe's stepsister, Sloane, had maneuvered her into offering herself to Karl Russell. Though Karl held sway in the city, he was nothing against Henrik's underworld might. It was like comparing a lion to a mouse. As the thought struck her, hope flickered within Khloe. If she could gain Henrik's support, she might escape her forced sacrifice, and her mother could be saved. Steadying her breath, she asked tentatively, "Since I just helped you, could I ask you a favor?" Henrik's gaze sharpened, eyes gleaming with intrigue. It was the first time a woman had faced him with such poise, especially after witnessing him kill so many people. Interest piqued, Henrik strode towards Khloe with an almost lazy confidence, each step measured and unhurried. His sculpted fingers pinched her chin, lifting it so she was looking right at him. He held her gaze as he studied her with a trace of amusement in his eyes. His voice, low and rich, sent a chill through the air. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?" A shiver raced through Khloe's heart. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud closing in, suffocating in its intensity. He was dangerous--merely speaking to him was like playing with fire. But she had nowhere else to turn; Henrik was her only chance. "I have a Ph.D. in chemistry and medicine, along with patents--highly profitable ones. If you help me, I can make you money," she said, voice steady but with a glint of desperation. Henrik shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Money?" he murmured, his fingers brushing her cheek. "Do I look like I lack money?" The scent of bld clung faintly to his skin, chilling her even as he remained outwardly gentle. Khloe's guard went up instinctively, her body tensing beneath his touch. "What do you want?" she ventured cautiously. "If it's within my power, I'm willing to exchange anything." A spark flickered in Henrik's dark eyes, something enigmatic and unreadable. He let his gaze drift over her as if considering her offer. "Anything, you say?" All of a sudden, he let out a chilling laugh. "Then I want this." In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. And there, before all his men, he kissed her. Chapter 4 Decisive Action The kiss came unexpectedly. Khloe was caught off guard, unable to respond in time. Henrik's subordinates stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had all worked for him for years, and never once had they seen him so close with a woman. Henrik had always been the type to keep his distance from women. In the past, women who approached him either ended up as fish food or were sent to toil in the mines at his orders. What kind of spell had this woman cast? How was it that she managed to make Henrik abandon all his usual rules, and all on their very first meeting? As the crowd remained stunned and puzzled, Khloe's thoughts swirled in chaos, making it impossible to think straight. Henrik's kiss was overwhelming, like a storm crashing down on her, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She found herself trapped in his arms, held so tightly it felt as though she were a flower caught in a violent storm. Yet she was anything but fragile. Once the shock wore off, a surge of anger rose within her. For years, she had endured humiliation, her fall from grace plunging her into the darkest depths. But giving up was never an option; she had always been plotting her revenge. It was only natural that she refused to yield. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with equal ferocity. After all, what harm could a kiss do? And the man was both devastatingly handsome and of high standing. She would not suffer any losses. She skillfully fought back with her tgue, refusing to let him dominate her entirely. Instead of pulling back, she met his intensity head-on, taking the lead. What began as a one-sided kiss quickly transformed into a fierce exchange, each of them vying for control, pushing and pulling in a heated battle for dominance. The kiss was fierce and all-consuming, each second more passionate than the last, until they were both gasping for air. When they finally pulled away, their lips were swollen and stained with bl**d, a testament to the intensity of the moment. Henrik let go of Khloe, his hand brushing against the corner of his mouth where her teeth had left their mark. His gaze was intense, locking onto her with a depth that seemed to pierce right through her. Khloe held his stare steadily, not flinching or showing even the slightest sign of discomfort. Her fearless attitude earned her the respect of those watching. It was clear now why Henrik was drawn to her. She was bold, with a courage that couldn't be ignored. She had the audacity to bite Henrik's lips, unafraid of the consequences. Henrik continued to gaze at Khloe, a growing satisfaction building within him. The sting on his lips reminded him sharply of what had just happened. The woman standing before him, with a face as stunning as an angel's, was no delicate flower. She was a thorny rose, and anyone foolish enough to underestimate her would undoubtedly pay the price. But that was exactly what made her so captivating--it was the danger beneath the beauty that drew him in. "Mr. Watson, is everything to your liking?" Khloe asked, breaking the stillness. "Yes, let's go," Henrik replied with a smile. "Now, let's take care of your little issue." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &10&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novels	https://www.facebook.com/61563251196448/	2,467	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-enp98_2-1210-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=157725&accid=304554039400649&exdata=C53DCDAE4F2816FFC2A7B6126759B589B85B33AA366CC31E	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent.fagc3-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/476120230_588622713936137_81401143686180692_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=oUprbuFPAsAQ7kNvgEYo3sD&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent.fagc3-1.fna&_nc_gid=AhUOggNEOWtgRi1D-dTdaSJ&oh=00_AYDUT9LFV1EJOhcUoS_nlO4EbBpkoToprUsLW4AaMujJzA&oe=67A62D54	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novels	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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