Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 626 - Tap

"How are you doing this?! You monster! This isn't them! I refuse to believe it!"

For the first time in what felt like forever, Thomas's calm and composed exterior shattered completely.

His voice, usually steady and measured, cracked with raw emotion as he screamed at Ross.

His fists trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood.

The sight before him — the faces of his loved ones, smiling, calling his name — was too much to bear.

It had to be fake. It had to be.

Even as the familiar faces tugged at his heart, even as the memories threatened to drown him, Thomas clung stubbornly to the last fragile thread of hope.

This is just a trick, he told himself. Some kind of illusion, a projection, a cruel manipulation.

Maybe it was a camera trick. Maybe Ross had found a way to mimic their voices, their mannerisms. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.

But all of Thomas's desperate rationalizing crumbled with Ross's next move.

"Brenda," Ross said, voice light and mocking, as if this were all a game to him.

"Why don't you enlighten your son about a few personal details? Something only you would know. Something to make him understand."

The words had barely left Ross's mouth when Brenda's lips moved on their own, as if some invisible force puppeteered her.

Her voice, warm and familiar, filled the room — but what she said made the color drain from Thomas's face.

"Thomas, when you were fifteen, I caught you in your room while you were busy playing with your c—"

Brenda's eyes widened in shock, horror flickering across her features.

It was clear she hadn't wanted to say those words, hadn't even chosen to say them.

Her mouth moved against her will, forced to drag a buried, shameful memory into the harsh light of day.

It was the truth — a deeply personal, embarrassing truth — one she would never have willingly shared, especially not now, especially not in front of others.

Thomas felt like the floor had fallen out from under him.

"Stop!" he shouted, the word ripping from his throat in pure panic.

His face was beet red, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Of all the memories, Ross had chosen this one — the single most humiliating moment of his teenage years, a memory he had tried so hard to forget.

And now, thanks to Ross's cruelty, it was out in the open.

Worse, it was out in front of his girlfriend, Colleen, who stood nearby with wide, confused eyes, clearly trying to process what she had just heard.

Thomas wanted to disappear. To sink into the floor. To scream.

It was real.

The horrifying, gut-wrenching certainty hit him like a hammer: this wasn't a projection or an illusion.

These were truly his loved ones, twisted and manipulated against their will by Ross.

And Thomas, helpless, could do nothing but watch.

"Is that enough," Ross said, voice dripping with mockery, "or would you like me to ask your beautiful girlfriend Colleen to share some of your fond memories together, too?"

Thomas's fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms.

His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his body shaking not with fear — but with a cold, simmering rage that begged for release.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep the boiling fury inside from spilling over.

"What do you want?" he said finally, his voice low and dangerous, trembling with barely suppressed violence.

It wasn't just anger anymore; it was hatred, pure and unfiltered, focused solely on Ross.

If his eyes had been weapons, Ross would have been torn to pieces where he stood.

But the invisible force pinning Thomas to the wall was merciless.

He could do nothing but stand there, powerless, like a spectator trapped in his own personal hell.

Ross only smiled, as if amused by Thomas's desperate attempts to hold himself together.

"I want nothing, Thomas," he said, as if the whole thing was beneath him.

His voice was light, almost conversational, which made his words even more sickening.

"I was living my life in peace, surrounded by the people I love, enjoying every little moment. And then you came crashing in — a man desperate to tear everything away from me, to destroy the happiness I built with my own two hands."

Ross paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. His smile twisted into something dark and feral.

"And now," he said softly, "I'm simply here to return the favor."

He turned his head slowly, deliberately, and let his gaze linger on the two women standing at the edge of the room.

Brenda and Colleen stood frozen, their faces pale, their bodies trembling ever so slightly.

Ross's gaze raked over them like a physical touch, making both women instinctively recoil even though he hadn't yet moved.

Thomas's heart dropped into his stomach.

He knew what Ross was implying even before the bastard spoke the next words.

"So tell me, Thomas," Ross said, savoring every syllable, "which one should I pick first?"

A slow, deliberate lick of his lips followed, an obscene gesture that made Thomas's gut churn with revulsion.

Thomas thrashed against the unseen force holding him, muscles straining, veins bulging in his neck, but it was futile. He couldn't move an inch.

His mouth opened in horror, words tumbling out in a desperate plea. He really could not bear to see his loved ones destroyed right before his eyes.

"I'll give you anything you want," he gasped, his voice raw with emotion. "Money, information, my life — whatever you want. Just don't touch them. Please... I'm begging you."

For a moment, Ross simply stared at him, as if considering the offer. Then he laughed — a hollow, joyless sound that echoed off the walls like a death knell.

"Isn't it a little too late for that now, Thomas?" he said mockingly. "The wheels are already in motion. People are dead. Blood has been spilled because of you. There's no going back now. There's no mercy left to give."