Dungeon Defense - Chapter 439: DAISY (3)

She gave up her dream of shining on the ballerina stage —for him.She sacrificed her self-respect —for him.She forgot her true identity —for him.But even after all that, she couldn’t compare to the woman who held Ryan’s heart.Arwen Quinn, heiress of prestigious Quinn family, realized too late that no matter what she did, she would never win Ryan’s love. The future that awaited her was a life trapped in endless misery of a loveless marriage.So, decisively, she ends their relationship and walks away. What she didn’t expect was that in breaking free from Ryan, she had opened the door for Aiden to enter her life — a chance that he had been waiting for.Aiden Winslow, an enigmatic CEO isn’t just mysterious —he is determined, and won’t allow to take Arwen away from him again.____Excerpt:Aiden narrowed his eyes, “Are you sure about this?”“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have asked,” Arwen replied coolly. “Stop dawdling. If you’re unwilling, I’ll find someone else who can get the marriage certificates today.”His expression darkened as he pulled her close. “Once offered to me, it’s mine alone.”Unfazed, Arwen asked, “So, do you accept? If yes, we’ll get the certificates now.”“On one condition,” he said. “I don’t do contract marriages. The woman I marry will be the woman I share my bed with. If you agree, then we’ll—”“Not a problem. Let’s go,” Arwen said without letting him finish, pulling him into the Civil Marriage Bureau.

[Mature Content]Arabella Donovan sacrificed her youth solely for her husband. However, he divorced her because she could not bear children for him, causing her great pain.Bella decided to disappear from his life.Five years later, she returned to the country with her adorable son.Her peaceful life started to get disturbed when her ex-husband chased her back the moment he found out she was giving birth to his son.But now, she wasn't the same Bella she used to be. She is an entirely different person.*****“Boss, she's back!”“Who?” Tristan Sinclair asked while scribbling his signature across stacks of papers.“Your wife—” The assistant hesitated, watching Tristan closely. When he saw Tristan's furrowed brows, he corrected himself. “Sorry, I mean your ex-wife, Ms. Donovan. She's returned with a boy...”Tristan sighed, eyeing the contract before him. After five years of searching, only to find out she's moved on, it feels hurt. But he couldn't avoid it. She deserves happiness with someone else. He'll take this loss. “She deserves a new husband...” Tristan muttered, dismissing his assistant.“Boss, what I meant was the cute little boy. I think he's around four years old—”Tristan snapped. His head up, fixing his sharp gaze on his assistant.“I need you to arrange a DNA test for the kid. And get me her address!”A glimmer appeared in his eyes as a smile slowly spread across his face.

The old man pointed to the flower-like woman and said, “Call her mother from now on.” He then pointed to a flower-bud-like girl and said, “This is your sister.”

My younger sister was not cute.

She was arrogant, taciturn and weird, but she knew how to please our parents.

She was two-faced and deceitful, but it seemed like she only treated me that way.

I cared for her, tried to please her as much as I can, but she still disliked me.

Until one day, I found out her secret, our relationship began to get a little bit weird…

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.