Phei hadn’t told her it was over yet.

Which meant it wasn’t.

Eira watched her Master make love to his newest woman — because that’s what this had become now, not mere fucking but something deeper, more intimate, his glowing hands still traveling across her freshly healed skin — and she prepared herself for the main event.

Jonathan thought the worst was behind him.

Jonathan was adorably, pathetically, hilariously wrong.

The physical torture had been the appetizer.

The psychological destruction had been the first course.

What Eira had planned next would be the main event.

And I am very, very good at main events.

The first thing Phei did—before he even pulled out of Roxanne, before the golden-green glow faded from his hands and the last delicious tremors of her orgasm finished rippling through her body—was give Eira her orders.

"Whatever happens to Jonathan," he said quietly, voice steady despite the woman still wrapped around him like a warm, satisfied vice, "make sure none of it reflects onto Sierra or her mother."

Eira’s attention sharpened like a blade dipped in venom. "Already drafting the ’totally-not-suspicious’ paperwork, Master. Consider it handled with my usual flair for plausible deniability."

"And Emily’s father works for the Montgomery Group."

Phei’s eyes drifted to the frozen wreck on the floor—pathetic, broken, still bleeding from wounds that would take months to heal if the universe felt unusually merciful. "Jonathan might try to take revenge on me by firing him. If he does that, it hurts Emily. And if it hurts Emily—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. The threat was in the air like a blade polished to a mirror shine.

Eira’s smile was pure, wicked delight. "Covered. I’ll make sure any ’unfortunate corporate restructuring’ looks like Jonathan’s own brilliant idea. Maybe throw in a few forged emails where he calls his board ’incompetent monkeys.’ Classic self-sabotage. They’ll eat it up."

"Roxanne and Sierra don’t lose anything," Phei continued, tone cold enough to freeze hell over. "No legal action against Roxanne—and if he tries, make sure there’s enough evidence to ensure Jonathan loses everything instead. Company. Reputation. Legacy standing. The whole pathetic empire."

Another nod from Eira, this one accompanied by a soft, gleeful chuckle. "Crystal. I’ll have his lawyers accidentally leak the most damning files to the press while he’s still trying to thaw his balls. Poetic, really."

Phei stared at the man who had beaten his woman for twenty years and reduced her to hiding bruises under expensive long clothes and had made her believe she deserved nothing better than the back of his hand and the bottom of his boot.

If it were up to Phei, Jonathan would lose everything tonight—company, reputation, Legacy standing, every last cent, connection, and shred of dignity—stripped away and burned while he watched from the floor like the worthless prop he was.

But Roxanne had said not yet. And so Phei had shrugged. Her revenge. Her timeline. Her choice.

Until she was ready, Jonathan would do nothing. Would sit in whatever remained of his shattered life and wait for the other shoe to drop—knowing it was coming, knowing he couldn’t stop it, knowing the woman he’d tormented now held all the power and the boy who’d claimed her held the leash.

"Until Roxanne gives the word," Phei said, voice dropping to something low and final, "he does nothing. Understands nothing. Moves against no one. Clear?"

Eira’s grin could have curdled milk and made the devil blush. "Crystal clear, Master. I’ll keep him alive, conscious, and quietly losing his mind in the most entertaining ways possible. Think of it as premium psychological slow-roast. Extra crispy."

He left with Roxanne.

Carried her out of that bedroom—and found a quiet corner of the house where they could talk.

A few minutes. That was all it took.

A conversation. A decision. Something deep and permanent settled between them that didn’t need to be explained or justified or apologized for to anyone else.

Then Eira teleported him back.

The fairy remained behind, of course.

She had work to do.

Jonathan’s real nightmare was just beginning—and Eira was feeling particularly creative tonight.

****

The Tanaka living room was warm and bright, a jarring contrast to the delicious darkness Phei had just left behind.

Yuki and Amber were sprawled across an oversized sectional, eyes glued to the massive wall-mounted TV. Coincidentally there was something about him.

They heard him coming up the stairs before they even saw him.

Amber’s head whipped around first, face lighting up with that perfect mix of relief and excitement. "There you are! Where did you—"

She stopped. Her eyes flicked to the TV. Then back to him. Then to the TV again.

"Wait." Her brow furrowed adorably. "I didn’t know you were having an interview on Legacy TV."

Phei glanced at the screen. Sure enough, a promotional banner was scrolling across the bottom—his name, his face, something about an "exclusive interview" airing soon.

He shrugged. "Wasn’t my idea. The Academy set it up."

"But why?" Amber pressed, half-laughing, half-baffled. "You hate PR stuff. You literally told the Heavenchild’s stagged journalist to go fuck himself on live television that one time."

"I told him to reconsider his life choices," Phei corrected mildly. "The ’go fuck himself’ part was heavily implied."

Yuki snorted so hard she nearly choked on her own composure.

Amber waved a dismissive hand. "Same energy. So why are you suddenly doing interviews?"

Phei considered the question for half a second.

The truth was he hadn’t known about it himself until Emily mentioned it on the drive back from the airport. It had completely slipped his mind after that—too many other things demanding his attention. Missions. Women. Legacy patriarchs who needed creative lessons on how not to treat their wives.

"Vice Principal’s request," he said with a casual shrug. "I was going to say no."

"But?" Amber prompted, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Melissa convinced me that doing Ashford Academy favors would come in handy sometime."

He didn’t mention the other reason he agreed. The certain someone he was actually looking forward to seeing again.

That was his business.

"So that’s how it happened." He spread his hands in mock surrender. "Academy wants PR, Melissa wants leverage, I get to sit in a chair and answer questions for an hour. Everyone wins. Except maybe the viewers who have to watch me pretend I enjoy small talk."

Amber looked deeply skeptical. Yuki looked mildly intrigued. Neither of them bought the story for a second.

Smart girls.

"Anyway." Phei clapped his hands together, shifting the energy in the room like flipping a switch. "Are you two ready?"

The effect was instantaneous.

Amber’s skepticism evaporated, replaced by pure, bubbling excitement. She launched off the couch like she’d been spring-loaded. "Yes! Finally! I’ve been ready for hours. Yuki kept trying to explain the aerodynamic principles of private jet tech her family’s working on for the Park Family and I almost threw myself out the window."

"The window was closed," Yuki pointed out calmly, rising with considerably more grace. "And understanding lift coefficients is important if you’re going to be traveling at altitude."

"I don’t care about lift coefficients, Yuki. I care about going."

Phei smiled, opening his arms.

Neither of them pretended to hesitate.

Amber claimed his right side, tucking herself against him with the easy familiarity of a girl who had already decided exactly where she belonged. Yuki took his left, her usual analytical composure softening into something warmer as her arm slid around his waist.

They walked down the stairs together.

The household staff watched them pass—maids, butlers, and attendants who had served the Tanaka family for years. None of them said a word. Their smiles said everything. Their eyes tracked the young master their little miss had apparently chosen, minds already spinning elaborate plot twists for when Yuki’s parents asked how their daughter’s day had gone.

She smiled, sir. Actually smiled. And she didn’t mention thermodynamics once. They felt happy for her.

Their little miss, finally losing that adorably nerdy shell for once. Finding someone—something—worth engaging with on a level that didn’t require equations or technical specifications.

Little did any of them know that the boy walking between the two beautiful young women had just finished cucking a Legacy Patriarch in the most spectacular fashion possible.

Had tortured him with void-ice golf balls until he bled from every pore.

Had fucked his wife on his own bed while he watched... taken that wife with him when he left—marked, claimed, healed of every bruise her husband had ever given her.

But they’d get there.

Baby steps. Right?

The car waited outside. Phei held the door for both girls—Amber sliding in first with a grin, Yuki following with a soft "thank you"—before climbing in himself.

They pulled away smoothly, and the Tanaka estate disappeared behind them.

Ahead: the airport.

So many surprises waiting for their arrival.

Emily and Catrina, already there. Melissa and Maya and Delilah and Victoria. Maddie and Sierra and Valentina. Sienna and Cassiopeia, fresh from their mission, carrying secrets, stolen witch, and the weight of things Phei didn’t fully understand yet.

Dravenna, somewhere in the shadows, moving pieces on a board he couldn’t see.

The Madam, preparing for a photoshoot that was really just an elaborate excuse to spend days with him.

And beyond all of them—Hell’s Paradise Island.

A place where lives would change forever.

Where Phei would weave through Legacy families like a knife through silk, disrupting plans set in motion long before he was born. Where schemes would collide, alliances would shatter, and the careful, ancient order of Paradise would finally begin to crack and bleed.

They thought they knew what was coming and thought they had accounted for every variable, predicted every outcome, controlled every piece on the board.

They hadn’t accounted for him.

They wouldn’t see it coming until the blade was already at their throats.