Suddenly, I Am Rich - Chapter 25: Velmora Tech

Yu Anwan backhanded the divorce agreement and disappeared without a trace.

Six years later, Yu Anwan came back gorgeously with her cute baby.

Wen Jin looked at him anxiously: “I am Daddy.”

Yu Dabao, Yu Xiaobao: “Mummy said, Daddy is dead!”

Wen Jin: “…”

- Description from novelbuddy

A dark soul, damaged by his past An angel forced to be his mistress. Can anything go right? Would they ever be able to fall in love? Will she be able to see past his darkness? Will he be able to protect her when danger comes knocking? Find out in this book... An Excerpt*

''You know what you are getting into, right?'' He asked, crossing his legs, he raised a brow;

Tiana's lips slanted and her eyes narrowed at him;

''As long as you pay me, I'll do whatever you want. '' Nicklaus was amazed by her sudden audaciousness;

but he was sure she was just trying to seem bold, He knew her, she was just a weak, trembling soul, and she was trying so hard to mask it;

A smirk appeared on his lips as a thought came into his mind; ''Whatever I want? ''

He asked again and Tiana replied immediately without a second thought;

''Yes, Mr. Nicklaus, whatever you want. ''

''Alright then, I want you to strip yourself and go lie down on the bed. ''

He did not have any thought of touching her; he just wanted to see her reaction. But what Tiana did next shocked him.

This is a vast and powerful wizarding world community, where powerful wizards wantonly capture gods, conquer planes, and reshape civilizations.Upon entering this world, Lynn realized that knowledge is power, and power is truth. On the path of seeking truth, he will always remains a humble apprentice.

“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.