~Demian's POVCold silence spread through the room.Not the quiet of peace.The quiet of something breaking.No one moved.No one dared.Until I spoke.“Is this what you truly want?”Rebecca didn’t hesitate.“Yes, my lord.”I saw the excitement in her eyes.Her voice was steady.Too steady.But her fingers trembled at her sides. She probably thought no one noticed.I did.A flicker of doubt crossed her face. Small. Almost invisible.“Does that make me a bad person?”The question wasn’t meant for them, nor me.It was meant for herself.For the girl she used to be.I studied her.She was about to burn down her entire bloodline for me.And she was still asking if that made her cruel.Strange.Humans feared betrayal.But what they truly feared was guilt.I extended my hand.I could feel the gaze of the entire room on me.“Take my hand, my love.”For a second…just a second…the faces of her family reflected in her eyes.Then she placed her hand in mine.Warm.Soft.Shaking.I pulled her int

Demian's POV She should be. Everyone felt that way for the first time. My cock is beyond 12 inches long and large. I climbed onto her, my weight pressing her into the mattress. Solid. Real. Undeniable.A soft kiss…"This will hurt at first.""I know." I studied her for a moment."I'll be gentle."She smiled. But it faded quickly. She bit down her lips. Her gaze never left mine. I felt my hands tremble as I kissed her again. Slower, deeper. I tried to pour my unspoken words into the touch of my lips against hers.When did anyone last trust me? When did I last deserve it?My hand moved between her thighs. Until I found her clitoris. She moaned softly. Her hands clutched my shoulders like I was the only solid thing in her world."Breathe." I spoke hot against her neck. I tasted her perfume, fear and want, all mixed together.As I positioned myself between her legs, I looked into her eyes one last time. She nodded."Fuck me.”"Please."I felt those words. She wanted me. Before I coul

Diana touched the collar at her throat and looked at herself in the mirror. For weeks she had tried to think of it as something elegant. Something symbolic. Something powerful. Now she finally understood what it really was. Not a crown. A leash. Two months had passed since the Overlord married Rebecca and Antonia. The ceremony had been everywhere—every channel, every headline, every screen she couldn’t escape. Rebecca glowing in white, regal and confident. Antonia beside her in cream, soft and adored. The way Demian had looked at them—like the rest of the world didn’t exist. And Diana? Diana was still Prime Minister. Technically. She studied her reflection in the Senate building bathroom, fingertips tracing the cool silver around her neck. It was beautiful, no one could deny that. Delicate work, custom-made, expensive enough that people noticed it before they noticed her. But it wasn’t a wedding ring. It never had been. Her phone buzzed. A message from him.

Quentin Rastro’s empire collapsed in seven days.Seven.Demian had said it like a simple fact. Not a threat. Not a boast. Just… a deadline.Apparently, he meant it.Rebecca stood by the penthouse window with a mug of coffee warming her hands while the morning news played in the background.“—Rastro Industries assets seized early this morning by federal authorities—”She blew gently on the surface of the coffee before taking a sip.Still hot.Still perfect.Demian had imported the beans from some place she couldn’t pronounce after she casually mentioned liking it once. At the time, she thought he was being dramatic.Now she realized he just remembered things.“—allegations of insider trading going back nearly twenty years—”Another sip.Her eyes stayed on the TV.“—multiple family accounts now frozen pending investigation—”Rebecca leaned her hip against the counter and watched footage of agents walking out of Rastro Tower with boxes stacked in their arms.So many boxes.It almost look

The convoy moved the way Demian's men always moved.Clean. Tight. Deliberate.Three vehicles — lead car, the Rolls in the middle, rear guard — cutting through Sunville's late-night streets at a pace that said *we are not asking permission.* Motorcycle escorts flanked both sides. The kind of formation that made civilians pull over without being told.Rebecca watched the city slide past the tinted window.Lights blurring.Storefronts. Street corners. The ordinary machinery of a city that didn't know what had just happened inside that conference hall.Antonia sat beside her, shoes off, one leg folded under her on the seat."Do you think he'll be long?" Antonia asked."I don't know.""He looked worried.""He always looks like that."Antonia turned her head toward the window. "No," she said quietly. "He doesn't."Rebecca didn't answer that.Because she was right.---She heard it before she understood it.A sound like compressed air — sharp, industrial — and then the windshield of the lead