Inside the private room, the impact was harsh and sudden.
Scott slammed Kyla against the wall, ripping the veil from her face. Her heavy makeup framed eyes red from tears. He caged her there, eyes flashing with anger, their gazes locking in a tense, electric stare.
"The plan you said you had was coming here, getting your ass fucked, and saving up the money you made here every single day, huh?" Scott raised his eyebrows, his gaze locking onto hers, unyielding.
She swallowed hard, hands trembling as she clenched her fists tightly, struggling to look away—but his eyes pinned her in place.
The neon lights of the room flickered across their tense forms.
She remained frozen.
"Answer me, Kyla!" Scott shouted, slamming his fist hard against the wall just inches from her face, the impact making his knuckles bleed. Kyla shut her eyes tightly, her whole body shaking with fear.
Even though today was the day he had returned, hearing him call her by her name unsettled her.
"If I hadn't done it, where do you think I would have found the money to save?" she cried, tears streaking her cheeks.
"Your family swore I'd never be allowed to work outside—that I would only serve them until I died. My only choice was to come here, make money, and save it. Put yourself in my shoes, and maybe then you'd understand how I fucking feel!"
She lifted her eyes slowly, meeting his maddening glare. The intensity of it sent a chill crawling down her spine, freezing her in place.
"And you think this place is the right place to save your damn money?" Scott demanded, his hand gripping her chin, twisting her lips as he drew her closer.
His eyes flashed with fury as he leaned in, and a fresh tear slid down her cheek.
"You fucked seven men at the same time," Scott said, his voice dropping to a low, cold, and menacing growl.
"Tell me—how much did they pay you, and how much did you actually get? Do you really think this goddamn place will earn you the money your parents borrowed from my father—three hundred fucking million? You think you can earn it here, by letting your pussy be fucked by countless men? How shameless can you be, Kyla?"
His words hit her like a physical blow.
She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white, her whole body trembling under the force of his fury.
"I'm not shameless, Scott! Don't you dare call me that!" Kyla shouted, tears streaming down her face.
"Do you even know what I've endured so far?
the reason you call me shameless is because you weren't there when all this abuse began! I've lived in constant pain. I lost ten children at the hands of your family. And now, trying to find a job that would let me save even a little, and you—" She spat the word like venom. "—you dare open your mouth and call me shameless, Scott?!"
Kyla laughed bitterly through her tears, nodding her head repeatedly. She lifted her chin defiantly, locking eyes with him, refusing to look away even as her body trembled
"My parents borrowed three hundred million… and instead, I became the price," Kyla's voice trembled, tears streaming freely.
"I was sold to your devilish father, who filled my life with nothing but pain—never a moment of peace, never a penny of my own. I served them. I worshiped them. And now, the only job that gives me a chance to save, the only way I could escape the cage… and you have the audacity to call me shameless? Do you think it's been easy, all these years I've worked?"
Her voice broke, and through her tears came a bitter, hollow laugh.
"Yes, I know I'm a bitch—a fucking wide hole—and yes, I'm shameless, because I'm the most popular bitch on the entire stage. Of course I'm shameless!"
She clawed at her hair, pulling it back roughly, trembling with raw emotion.
Scott's hand shot out, gripping hers with unyielding force.
In one swift motion, he dragged her to the bed, pushing her down and pinning her hands above her head.
He unbuckled his belt, looping it around her neck and pulling her closer.
His eyes blazed with unrestrained anger, while tears continued to streak down hers, slipping past the walls of her control despite the fear and defiance coiling within her.
"And the only way to save up was to sleep with seven men?" Scott's voice was low, sharp, and merciless.
"The only way to save up was to flaunt your body for the whole world to see? And now you have the audacity to shout at me, to yell at me, when you've been so shameless? They inflicted those horrors on you because you allowed it! I don't deny the suffering, the pregnancies you lost— you let it happen! You have no right to complain, not after everything you let them do to you!"
He pulled her closer with the belt, his grip unrelenting, while his other hand caged her wrists behind her back, pinning her firmly in place.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the neon lights casting jagged shadows over their tense, locked forms.
"Scott… have you truly forgotten who I am to you? I'm your stepmom, remember? I'm married to your father—I'm married, Scott! Why are you doing this?!" Kyla shouted, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.
Scott pulled her even closer with the belt, and she winced, her body shaking under his grip. His eyes burned with a fierce, unyielding intensity, locking onto hers with a dangerous precision.
"You call yourself a married woman, yet you went ahead and slept with seven men behind his back," Scott said, his voice icy and cutting, sending a chill through the room.
"And you never once considered what I am capable of—whether to tell him or to stay silent? Did it ever occur to you what would happen if your secret were exposed? Do you think he wouldn't hesitate for a second before destroying you? You know Adrian and Stacy came here every night as well, yet you never thought ahead, never imagined the consequences if they found out. The possibility that any one of them could buy you—did you truly believe your secret would remain hidden?"
"Are you… threatening me now, Scott? Are you planning to tell your father about me, huh? Do you even realize—"
Her words were cut short as he captured her lips, kissing her with a fierce, almost uncontrollable intensity. Her eyes flew open, refusing to close, a mix of shock, fear, and disbelief frozen on her face.
He broke the kiss, his lips curling into a dark, predatory smirk.
Her eyes flicked toward him, and his smirk deepened as he slowly licked his lips, like a predator savoring its prey, his gaze locking onto hers with unwavering intensity.
"Don't ever try to remind me who you are again," Scott murmured, his voice low, cold, and dangerous. "Like I told you before… you're mine. You exist in my world, just like in my father's, little stepmom."
He pulled her closer with the belt, the darkness in his expression deepening. She stared at him, utterly speechless, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
"You're insane, Scott. I thought you were different, but you're just like your devilish father. Of course—a father gives birth to his likeness, and you're no different from him," Kyla muttered, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
Scott chuckled shortly, a low, dark sound, before pushing her onto the bed, pinning her hands firmly above her head.
He slid the belt from her neck, his gaze never leaving hers.
"Worse? You haven't seen the worst side of me yet, little stepmom," Scott muttered, his voice icy and menacing. His low, chilling chuckle sent a shiver through the room.
Before she could react, he seized her hands, lifting them above her head and securing them with the belt.
He fastened it to the hook above the bed, locking her in place. His eyes returned to hers, and his smirk deepened—darker, colder, and more dangerous than ever.
"What the hell is this, Scott?" she shouted, struggling desperately against her restraints. He only scoffed, brushing his hair back with an air of cold indifference.
"Untie me, Scott! I cannot—I will not—have sex with my stepson. That is an abomination! Cancel whatever you've planned, because I will never allow it to happen! Take back your money—I don't need it!" Kyla screamed, thrashing against the belt, her legs kicking wildly, tears streaming down her face.
"And you think all that struggle will make me forget what I have planned for you?" he asked, a low, menacing chuckle escaping his lips as he brushed his hair back once again.
Tears streamed down her face as he leaned in, gripping her chin and forcing her lips upward. She struggled to pull away, but his hold was firm—unyielding, absolute.
"The more you talk, the less I'm inclined to let you go," Scott said, his lips curling into a dark, knowing smirk. "And about the favor I told you I'd claim—tonight, I'm taking it back. Whether you're willing or not… I will have it, little stepmom."
At his words, Kyla tensed immediately, her body stiffening in instinctive resistance. Kyla's thighs snapped shut instinctively.
A low, dark chuckle escaped him, and she swallowed hard, fear tightening its grip as a sheen of sweat gathered on her skin.
"You're just as shameless as your father—" she began, but her words were cut off when he captured her lips, kissing her more fiercely than before.
She tried to pull away, but his hand circled her neck, drawing her closer as his kiss deepened, overwhelming and relentless.
Her resistance weakened as she struggled to break free, yet he held her firmly in place.
In a sudden, impulsive motion, he grabbed at her red bikini top and tore it away, leaving her exposed and breathless. Only then did he finally pull back, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy between them.
"Talk about shameless—I can be even more so," he murmured. "Little stepmom, I bought you just as other men always do, and you'll be with me as you were with them. Tonight, you'll teach me how to moan."
His eyes lingered, admiring her body, while she closed her eyes and inhaled softly.
"You keep all this beauty hidden at home, only to come here and let the world admire this stunning body,' he said in a low, cutting tone.
"You let other men touch you, to take advantage of every part of you, and yet you dare to call me shameless—when the true shameless queen is you. But today, everything they ever did will be erased. I'll make sure I'm the only one you remember… the only man you'll ever allow close. I'll show you what you never felt with them. I'll take you to heights of feeling you've never known, little stepmom.' Scott muttered before she could speak.
He grabbed one of her breasts without hesitation, sucking it with ruthless intent, sending her spiraling into a new level of desire.
She swallowed hard, her body trembling as he grabbed her other breast, squeezing it with relentless force, sending shivers of dark pleasure racing down her spine.
Her breath hitched, uneven and shallow, and she bit her lip, eyes clamping shut.
"Oh… fuck…" Her moan escaped, raw and desperate.
Scott's smirk deepened as he flicked his gaze toward her, noting her closed eyes, her parted lips, the way her throat swallowed as sweat glistened along her cheeks.
He didn't relent—squeezing, sucking, each movement amplifying her pleasure, pushing her further into helpless abandon.
"Oh Gawd… Scott… fuck… you…"
*
*
*
«THE BULLDOG»
Jericho's room was in complete disarray—shattered glass and broken objects littered the floor, his bed overturned in a violent mess.
He stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection, chest heaving with heavy breaths.
His knuckles were raw and bleeding from repeatedly smashing them against the wall, his ponytail disheveled and wild.
Anger burned in his eyes, sharp and unrelenting.
The sheer audacity of Robert's son—walking into his club, destroying his carefully laid plans, stealing the very opportunity to become a trillionaire by bidding the highest amount anyone had ever dared.
He have the nerve to claim it would go straight into her account—infuriated him.
Anger coiled in his chest, raw and scorching.
Without thinking, he slammed his fist into the mirror, glass shattered, scattering across the floor, each fragment reflecting the fury burning in his eyes.
The door swung open, and Catalina stepped inside, her eyes wide with shock. She turned instinctively, ready to flee—but his cold, menacing voice froze her in place.
"Run, and I promise you… I'll bury you alive."
She swallowed hard, trembling violently as she clutched her clothes to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks, sweat beading along her forehead, each breath ragged with fear.
Catalina's legs quivered, rooted to the spot.
Her heart hammered against her ribcage, each beat louder than the last. The room seemed to shrink around her, shadows stretching with every flicker of the dim light.
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, the scrape of his shoes on the floor echoing like a death knell. His eyes, dark and merciless, never left hers.
"You stood on that stage and did nothing—just watched him seize what wasn't his. He grabbed the mic and spewed his nonsense, yet you didn't stop him when he boasted he'd funnel that hundred million straight into her account, and you… you were too busy admiring him, you ungrateful little wretch!"
His words sliced through the air, cold and ruthless, crawling down her spine like a swarm of icy, maddening fire.
Tears blurred her vision, streaking down her cheeks.
She wished, desperately, for an escape that didn't exist. Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to flee—but her body wouldn't obey.
She was trapped, every breath a struggle, every heartbeat a drum of panic.
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, biting her lip until it bled.
In a heartbeat, he stripped off his belt, looping it expertly around her neck, and yanked her toward the door.
Her eyes widened in terror as she hit the floor hard, the impact jarring her body. She clawed at the belt, desperate to free herself, but it held fast.
Her breath caught, ragged and shallow.
Her face drained of color, hot tears carving streaks down her cheeks.
And there he was—the devil himself, crouched before her, calm, merciless, and impossibly close. Every instinct screamed to flee, yet she was utterly trapped.
He pulled her closer with the belt, cutting her deeply across the neck, and blood slid down from the wound.
"How dare you ruin my plans! You should have stopped him—bought her instead by my name!" Jericho's hand lashed out mid-sentence, slamming across her face with savage force.
Hair scattered in every direction, and blood trickled from her nose and split lips, hot and stinging against her skin.
"Instead, you handed him the mic—only for him to buy her right from under our noses! And you actually think she'll ever return to this club, when money of this magnitude has never flowed into her account since she began working here? How dare you let this happen, you absolute fool!"
His voice thundered through the room, raw and merciless.
She shut her eyes tightly, trembling, pain and humiliation twisting together like fire in her chest, leaving her utterly helpless beneath his wrath.
"I'm sorry… I didn't know he would transfer the money himself. I know I made a mistake letting it happen, but everything happened so fast—I didn't know what to do in that moment. I'm sorry… I promise it won't happen again. Please, Rico…"
Her voice trembled, fragile and pleading.
His hand slapped her again, harder than before. Blood spilled from her mouth, and half her hair clung to the side of her cheek, streaked with crimson.
Her lips quivered, a soft gasp escaping.
He yanked her closer with the belt, drawing her in until his face hovered mere inches from hers. Her wide eyes locked onto his, frozen in terror, unable to tear herself away from the cold, merciless gaze that promised nothing but pain.
"Of course it won't happen again—because we've lost Holy Mary. My plans are ruined, the club is doomed, and everything is finished. She's never coming back. And prepare yourself for our divorce, because you are of no use to me anymore, piglet."
His words were sharp, merciless, slicing through the air.
With a brutal shove, he sent her stumbling backward, then rose and strode from the room, leaving her trembling and broken in the wake of his cold, unforgiving presence.
Pulling out his phone with his bloody hand, he dialed a number as he stormed out, slamming the door with a deafening crash.
Catalina dropped the belt from her neck and immediately curled into herself, hugging her knees tightly and burying her face as her sobs grew louder and more desperate.
It was all her parents' fault.
She would never forgive them.
"Robert Wellington's youngest son…" Jericho muttered, a dark smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "I'll do whatever it takes to get that money from him. He had the audacity to buy her and make it clear the payment would go straight into her account… he will suffer for that."
He stepped into the elevator, his expression hardening.
"I'll have my share," he continued coldly. "Capture him. Break him. Make him transfer every last cent of that hundred million into my account."
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing him inside with his ruthless intent.
Meanwhile, Stacy and Bianca were already wasted, babbling incoherently.
Max carried Bianca, while Adrian was with Stacy.
They were dragging them out of the clubhouse, the aftermath of Scott's actions having driven the women to drink themselves into a stupor.
When they reached the garage where the cars were parked, they opened the back seats and let the women collapse inside before shutting the doors.
Max flexed his arms and stretched his neck, scanning the space around him with a measured, alert gaze.
"This whole situation is insane. Who even went into Predator and paid that much for her? A woman with no golden pussy—now that she has the money, I'm certain she won't set foot in this club again," Max said, brushing his hair back as he leaned against the trunk of his car.
Adrian stood by the car door, hands shoved into his pockets, the breeze tousling his hair as it drifted across the garage.
"Did you notice how he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close? Doesn't that strike you as suspicious?" Adrian asked, eyes flicking toward Max. "He moved as if he actually knows her."
Max raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly, taking in Adrian's observation. Adrian smirked, then looked away, amusement dancing across his face.
"But he's only been back for six years. There's no way he could know her," Max said. "We've known her for three years, and no one in this state knows what she looks like. It's impossible for him to recognize her after just one day."
Adrian let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"I don't even know what to think anymore," he muttered, his gaze drifting away, lost in thought.
*
*
«NEXT—DAY»
«Cove's apartment»
Inside his bathroom, he stood under the steady stream of the shower, water cascading down his body as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
His mind drifted back to the club last night—how Max had his dick ridden, how he had watched it all while joking with his friends.
He swept his wet hair back, letting the water run freely over his shoulders, and closed his eyes, letting the memory and the heat of the moment wash over him.
"You're a strong fencer… looking forward to practicing with you," Cove remembered Max's voice the first time they had trained together.
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled Max extending his hand in a handshake. It was a simple gesture, yet in that moment, it had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
When he was finished, he turned off the shower and stepped out, tying a towel firmly around his waist. With another, he began to dry his hair as he moved out of the bathroom.
He walked straight to the wall where a calendar charted his training session with Max.
His gaze lingered on it, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips.
Crossing to the drawer, he pulled it open and retrieved a marker. Returning to the wall, he uncapped it and marked the previous day with a clean, deliberate stroke.
Without a second glance, he turned away, flicking the marker onto the dresser before making his way to the wardrobe. He selected a shirt and a pair of trousers, dressing with quiet efficiency.
Once done, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts—his movements slowing… then halting on one name.
Max.
His thumb hovered over the screen, he stared at the screen for a moment before walking over to the couch and dropping onto it. Running a hand through his hair, he hesitated—then finally dialed.
The first ring went unanswered.
On the second, the call connected.
A slow smile spread across Cove's lips.
"If you're calling about practice, don't bother," Max's voice came through, edged with irritation. "I'm not making it to the salle today. I've got things to handle. So just—fuck off."
"Come to my house," Cove said, his voice low, measured, and commanding. "I want you here in ten minutes. There's something important we need to discuss."
A brief pause followed, heavy with intent.
"If you don't come, I'll come to you—and drag you here myself." His tone hardened, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste my time. And I'm not calling about practice… this is something entirely different."
"I'm not going to—" Max began, but the line went dead.
Cove had already hung up.
Without hesitation, he switched his phone to airplane mode, his gaze drifting briefly to the time. A darker, more deliberate smile settled on his lips as he swept his hair back with a slow, practiced motion.
Rising to his feet, he adjusted his shirt, leaving the top buttons carelessly undone.
Then, without another glance behind him, he stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut with quiet finality.
Minutes later, a knock echoed from the front door.
Cove opened it to find Max standing there, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Cove's lips curled into a sly smile as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on Max.
"Something important," Max began, his voice tight with irritation, "and you're just going to stand there staring at me like that? What exactly do you want to talk about? I've got a lot of work to do."
Cove said nothing, his smile widening ever so slightly, his silence only fueling Max's rising frustration.
"Fuck you for wasting my damn time, motherfucker," Max spat, his voice sharp with anger, and turned to storm off.
But Cove's hand shot out, gripping his wrist and yanking him inside. Before Max could react, Cove slammed the door shut behind them, pinning Max against it, caging him with unyielding force.
Max's eyes went wide, a flicker of shock—and something darker—crossing his face.
"And what the fuck is the meaning of this?" Max snapped, straining against Cove's grip, but it was like trying to move a steel trap—utterly futile.
Cove's smirk darkened, sharp and unyielding. Yet Max still didn't understand the full weight of what was happening, his confusion sharpening the edge of his anger.
Cove leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto Max's with a predator's precision.
"The meaning?" he said, his voice low, almost a whisper but heavy with threat. "The meaning is simple—you're going to listen. You're going to do what I say. And whether you like it or not, you're not walking out of here until I decide it's over."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Max demanded, his voice tight with anger and confusion.
Cove's smirk deepened, dark and deliberate, as he leaned closer, pressing his lips against Max's ear. Each measured breath sent a shiver crawling down Max's spine, sharp and unwelcome.
"Just like you did with the others, I want my dick to be sucked too—and I want it to be you, Max. You'll suck it exactly as they did to yours. I want it too—and I want it to be you, Max. You'll do it exactly as they did to you. That's the only way to leave this house. Refuse, and I'll have no choice do dirty things to you," Cove whispered, his lips trailing along Max's neck, licking upward to his ear, teasing him with deliberate intensity.
Max's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, caught between fear and desire.
Cove's hand moved toward him, sliding to grasp Max's dick.
Max's breath froze.
A sly curl spread across Cove's lips as he noticed the reaction. One hand went to Max's trousers while the other tugged at his belt, all the while lavishing his neck with deep, biting kisses.
With a sharp yank, he removed the belt and moved to pull down Max's pants—but Max caught his hand. Cove lifted his head, their eyes locking, the tension between them electric.
"I'm straight, Cove. I'm never going to do this with you. Never," Max muttered. Cove's eyes dropped to the hand gripping him, and his smirk deepened.
"Then I'll make you bend," Cove said, his voice low and commanding. "Seems like you like it rough. You'll learn the hard way. It's your fault for seducing me the first time, for making me yearn for you. Anything that happens today is your fault too. And the discussion I mentioned? Consider it happening now—because this matters more to me than anything. Just like they suck you and get your dick ridden, we'll practice it together."
With a rough motion, Cove yanked down Max's trousers. Max's dick sprang up, and Cove's smirk widened, hungry and approving
Max's fist clenched tightly, ready to drive it into his face, but suddenly he was pinned in place, rooted to the spot.
His muscles weakened, and a strange, overwhelming sensation coursed through him—one he couldn't quite understand.
"Huge… exactly my type," Cove murmured, his hand closing firmly around it. Max swallowed hard, knuckles whitening as his fist clenched.
Cove's lips returned to his neck, driving him harder against the wall, pressing deep, possessive kisses as his hand relentlessly massaged Max's dick—so firmly that pre-cum began to spill.
"Damnit… shit," Max breathed, shallow and ragged, his eyes fluttering shut under the force of sensation.
*
*
9PM
«CHICAGO MILLAND, CHIEF ROBERT WELLINGTON— ESTATE»
Kyla had been avoiding Scott, and how she had ended up back in this house remained a complete mystery to her.
She remembered waking up that morning to find herself lying in her bed, fully dressed—proof that he must have done everything the night before.
The memory of it made her feel a rush of embarrassment and disbelief.
He had only touched her breasts; he hadn't slept with her. And even that alone was enough to make her silently thank God.
She now stood in front of his door, holding his breakfast.
As usual, he hadn't joined the family downstairs. Her heart raced in her chest as she hesitated, hand hovering to knock softly. Her fingers trembled slightly against the tray of coffee and sliced bread.
No response came from inside.
She gently grasped the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door open.
Peeking inside, she saw no one.
She let out a sigh of relief and stepped into the room, placing the tray carefully on the table. Almost immediately, she turned and dashed out, closing the door behind her, only to slam forehead-first into a hard chest.
Her eyes widened as the familiar scent of his cologne filled her senses.
Scott stood before her, shirtless, his shirt draped casually over one shoulder. He wore short denim shorts, and beads of sweat traced down his neck to his chest.
In one hand, he held a water bottle, and his earrings caught the light, glittering faintly.
He had just come from the gym.
His lips curled into a small, knowing smirk as she slowly lifted her head from her chest to look at him.
Their eyes met—and in an instant, the memory of what he had done to her breasts the night before flooded her mind. She swallowed hard and stepped back, heart racing.
He seized her hand and began dragging her toward his room.
At the door, he pushed it open, pulling her inside and closing it firmly behind them. Without pause, he guided her to the bed and gently pressed her down.
Her back hit the mattress, and her eyes widened, a mix of shock and anticipation flooding her senses. He's not planning to continue where he left off last night, is he? she thought, her pulse racing.
"You've been avoiding me," Scott murmured, leaning closer to her face. "Perhaps you're so ashamed… moaning for your stepson, begging him not to stop, huh?"
He placed his palms on either side of her, trapping her in the center, his smirk still lingering against her lips.
She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself and hide her trembling—but her body betrayed her, shaking despite her best efforts.
"Did you enjoy last night? You wanted me to fuck you, didn't you?" he asked, chuckling as he lifted her chin, his eyebrows arching. "Tell me, do you want me to fuck you, little stepmom?"
*
*
TBC
DO NOT GHOST 🚫
YOUR ACTIVENESS DETERMINES.