MTL - Remarry, No Way! - Chapter 42 Dad cares about the aunt (1)

“I’m going to adopt a child.”Duke Ferio Voreoti’s impulsive decision shocked everyone in the mansion.Not only did he make her his daughter, but he also gave her the name of a ‘beast’ that only direct members of the bloodline could receive.“Even as you breathe right now, I’m earning money.”“It’s confidence, not arrogance.”“My face really does have its advantages.”The most arrogant father in the whole world, and“I love muscles the most. Let’s get muscular.”“Show me your thigh muscles! Your bu*t would be even better!”“You’re nothing but a flower if you have a calm personality…”his corrupted(?) daughter.And…“I will give his excellency the information he wants most.”“Information I want most, you say…”“You won’t regret it.”…A stepmother(?) with a strange secret as well.

Eighteen years ago, blood stained the halls of the Full Moon Gala.The Vampires came slaughtering nearly every wolf shifter at the gala, including the visiting royal family. Blood drenched the earth, and when the carnage ended. Prince Ambrose, soaked in the screams of his people, he rose from the ashes with a single vow:Blood for blood.Eighteen years later, Ambrose is now Alpha King, ruthless, unyielding, and revered by his pack. But his thirst for vengeance never dulled. His target? Princess Odette.Odette isn’t a delicate doll. She’s fire wrapped in silk. Born of power, and unafraid to destroy. Raised by the very monsters that broke him.Ambrose wants to break her. But this princess doesn't break easily.Captured. Kidnapped. Claimed.The girl he wanted to destroy becomes the woman he can’t stop watching. Touching. Needing.Their bond is dangerous. Twisted. Forbidden.Can love be born of vengeance?What if a terrifying and dangerous threat rises from the shadows? Can a millennia long blood feud be overcome or will they destroy themselves before the enemy even has a chance?Ex:I started the shower and then looked to her and ordered her “Take off your clothes.”She almost snapped her neck with how quickly she turned her head to face me. “Excuse me?”“You heard me, Take. Off. Your. Clothes. Princess.”She looked at me dumbfounded, she couldn’t believe I was asking her to do this. The sheer audacity of me.She’s rich. Ha.“No, absolutely not.” She narrowed her eyes at me and lifted her lip a little, showing part of her fang. It was a warning glare.“I’m not a patient man. Strip or I will strip you of your clothes.” As I spoke those words, a sense of thrill shot through me. I've seen plenty of women naked. But my enemy’s daughter. Stripping her of her dignity, forcing her to humiliate herself.My wolf purred inside.“I will not.” Odette stood firm in her stance.“I will only tolerate so much disobedience.” I growled at her, I moved quickly, closing the distance between us in an instance.I grabbed her sleeve and tore it off her. She jerked back covering her arm with her hand. I moved closer to her. Ripping off another shred of her dress.She screamed “Stop it. Don’t touch me. Dog.” She napped.I snarled “Call me a dog one more time princess and see how I punish you.”“D.O.G. DOG” She said firm and slow.“I’m not actually, I am the Alpha King, the strongest and most powerful Alpha there’s ever been.” I was getting tired of the disrespect.“Keep feeding that ego of yours, maybe one day it’ll be a reality.” She hissed back.I grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. She thrashed and squirmed in my grip. But I held firm.Getting in close I whisper in her ear “Watch your little wh*re mouth. Before I shove something in it to keep it busy.”

By the time I reached thirty, I hadn't managed to provide any of the happiness I wanted for my wife.I also still couldn't become the support my parents relied on.At this turning point in my fate, my income suddenly began to increase randomly.(A daily life tale in a wealthy family setting, featuring a single female lead and no harem.)

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.