In that one fleeting mont, her judgnt clouded by kindness and sympathy, she had let him in. And now, that pristine ntal space bore his permanent imprint—the unique, unshakable, deeply sensory mory of a dominant, hot-blooded man.
Cruxius wasn’t naïve.
He knew he wasn’t living in so pathetic fairytale where a handso face alone could capture a woman’s heart and make her obsess over him all day long.
Especially in Seleyena’s case. She saw dozens of conventionally attractive n on a daily basis; charm was the absolute bare minimum requirent.
After all, the simple idea that being handso guarantees a woman’s loyalty is a complex, foolish lie.
Even if a husband is drop-dead gorgeous, his wife can cheat; even if he is filthy rich, she might stray—simply because won are wired in a way that the sheer value of physical, materialistic things—body or money—diminishes incredibly swiftly once they are accustod to it.
Most n remain pathetically oblivious to this, thinking their physical gifts or wallets are leaving a permanent impact. In truth, it’s the emotional mory ford at the exact mont of the interaction that forges the unbreakable link, not the materialistic asset itself.
Won are creatures driven by complex emotions, while n are easily swayed by the materialistic and visual.
That’s precisely why they are called the better half; they fulfill what the other lacks.
Not that it mattered to Cruxius. The more n remained oblivious to this simple psychological fact, the easier it was for him to monopolize the hearts of won—and soon enough, their bodies.
So, to leave a permanent, burning impression on Dr. Seleyena, all he needed was to give her a mory that was profound, shocking, and overflowing with raw emotion.
And he had just done exactly that.
Would she ever forget the dominating image of a half-naked man looming in her pristine clinic... while she knelt obediently between his thighs, her trembling fingertips slick with his heat as they stroked the head of his heavy cock?
No.
That was absolutely not sothing any woman—not the mindless bitches, and certainly not a pure Saint—could just simply erase from her mory.
Yes, won and "bitches" had a huge difference. And funny enough, most n were blindly attracted to the latter simply to sate their own basic physical urges.
"Master, I apologize," Darithi stepped forward in the corridor, interrupting his thoughts. She gave a crisp bow, fully acknowledging her intrusion at such a critical, intimate mont. Her sharp eyes quickly scanned his body, seemingly reassured that his clothes were intact and he wasn’t injured.
"...Why are you here? Didn’t I explicitly tell you to follow Thalia’s stepsister?" Cruxius narrowed his dark gaze, instantly sensing sothing suspicious.
From the frantic, deeply worried look in Darithi’s eyes when she had barged into the cabin earlier, it was obvious she had rushed over under the impression his life was in imminent danger. Which, frankly, it wasn’t.
So her presence here ant...
"I received an ergency call from you. You sounded severely injured, so I aborted the tail and ca back imdiately," Darithi explained smoothly, pulling out her secure phone.
With her automatic call recording feature enabled, she opened the audio file and handed the device to him as solid proof.
’Don’t tell ...’ Cruxius’s lips twitched.
He trusted Darithi implicitly, yes. He took the phone, tapped on the highlighted recording, and pressed play, needing to hear exactly what that little runaway demon had done to trick his aide.
His expression darkened violently as the very first thing blasting through the speaker was his own voice....
Moaning!?
// "Aangh!—H...e...llo Darithi! Please help... , aahhh! Argh! Co fast—anrghh!" //
"..."
Cruxius stood frozen in the hospital corridor. After hearing the recording—down to the incredibly compromising, breathy inflection of his voice—he slowly looked toward the caller ID.
It was an unfamiliar extension. Traced directly to an internal hospital phone.
He ended the call. The twitching curve of his lips slowly morphed into a dangerously pissed-off smile. He looked up at the sterile ceiling, one hand slipping into his trouser pocket, only to find it completely empty. A realization struck him, leaving him visibly awestruck by the sheer audacity.
’Really, Thalia? Of all the damn things... you steal my phone and edit my voice to make sound like a dying pornstar?’
Sowhere~~~
The heavy tal door slamd open with a deafening bang, the cold rooftop wind imdiately biting at them.
Jenny stumbled through it, her stilettos clattering sharply against the unforgiving concrete as she yanked her arm free—unsuccessfully. Her designer silk blouse clung tightly to her heaving chest, the sheer fabric doing little to hide the hard, agitated points of her nipples as she struggled against the grip.
"Let go! You’re crazy!" she shrieked, her hips twisting wildly like a caught animal, the short hem of her skirt riding up her pale thighs.
Thalia didn’t let go.
Her grip was like iron around Jenny’s delicate wrist as she hauled her forward, the exertion making her own breath co short and heavy, and threw her onto the rooftop of the hospital—a 26-story building—with a harsh shove.
Jenny fell hard, her soft palms scraping against the rough surface, her skirt riding dangerously high to expose a flash of lacy underwear.
"Urgh!" She let out a sharp yelp, looking up in disbelief, her tangled hair falling over a flushed face, her breasts spilling dangerously close to the edge of her low-cut neckline as she panted.
"After ruining everything—where do you think you’re running?" Thalia’s voice was low, breathless, cracked at the edges from holding back too long. The chilly winds whipped around them, pressing Thalia’s thin shirt against her skin, highlighting the proud, taut curves of her breasts and the rigid peaks straining against the fabric. After running away from Doctor Seleyena’s cabin, she had noticed the Cruxius guards at the entrance, leading her to run through the hospital in search of a back exit. There, she found Jenny sprinting, her tight dress hindering her strides, followed closely by Darithi.
Thalia, using AI voice technology from a sample easily found in the case of one of the richest playboy heirs, made a fake call and removed Darithi from the situation, leaving the two stepsisters completely alone on the isolated roof.
"H-How dare you!" Jenny pushed herself up with a glare, dusting off her designer clothes like that would fix her bruised pride, her chest thrust forward in indignation. "You brought your boyfriend here to harass ? I swear I’ll tell Mother—"
Smack!
Thalia’s hand snapped out, landing a sharp slap on Jenny’s face with enough force to make her stumble, her whole body shuddering from the impact.
"He’s not my boyfriend. Damn it, Jenny!" Her voice cracked now, more hoarse than loud. Her breathing was erratic, causing her chest to rise and fall in a heavy, srizing rhythm. "You drugged . You and your fiancé threw alone with that animal!"
Jenny froze.
"Pfft."
Then she laughed—short, forced, bitter.
"Why do you always say things like that? Like you’re so tragic little heroine? Ugh. You’re so annoying." She stood up fully now, flipping her hair as if this was just another schoolyard fight. She rubbed her reddening cheek, her pout accentuating her glossy lips. She wanted to slap back too, but the result would only be another, stronger slap.
"You always get everything, Thalia. Perfect grades. Perfect gifts. The smile Dad never gave until he died. And now even a rich man to sleep with. You’ll probably pop out the Blac family heir and live in gold."
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