Elias Kane's lip twitched once, the ghost of a cold ugh dying before it could form, because anything he did right now—after he'd just agreed to Serena Bckwood's terms—would probably look pathetic, even to himself.

  His mouth moved a few times, silent shaping of words that never made it out, and in the end he simply shut it, jaw tight.

  Even so, he wasn't surrendering—not really. He didn't pce his hand in hers the way she clearly expected. Instead he stood there, staring her down with ft, unblinking green eyes, refusing to move so much as an inch toward compliance.

  Such a hard bone.

  Elias had thrown attitude at her three, four, five times already; even with Serena's ironcd composure, a faint thread of irritation finally slipped into the beautiful curve of her brows, darkening the hazel there for a heartbeat—yet she reined it in almost instantly, the mask snapping back into pce.

  Break the bone once, and it never hardens again.

  Serena withdrew her hand with practiced naturalness, voice velvet-smooth and utterly calm. "Liora, handle the rest."

  Liora Voss inclined her head once; she understood perfectly—Serena had waited too long, hungered too openly for this facsimile of her white-moonlight obsession, and now every wasted second felt like theft.

  With that, Serena turned and strode away first, long legs in sheer bck stockings eating half a meter per step, the sharp click of her heels striking marble like deliberate stabs aimed straight at the heart.

  In the space of a blink she was already several paces ahead. Elias followed without a word, silent shadow to her commanding silhouette.

  But as he passed Liora, shoulder almost brushing hers, she caught the faintest murmur—mosquito-thin, barely audible, yet unmistakably directed at her: "I'm going to bite someone else now, okay…?"

  Liora watched the slender line of his retreating back, brows knitting. Was the boy never going to let it go? Did he actually believe she harbored any real interest in him?

  She let out a soft, derisive scoff and shook her head, the notion almost amusing in its absurdity.

  Then the image fshed again—Elias baring his tiger-like canines and sinking them viciously into Serena's skin the moment her temper fred, the sudden feral snap of it—and something in Liora's expression eased, the gcial lines around her mouth softening into the barest curve.

  Interesting, actually.

  Her brows smoothed completely. A quiet ugh escaped her.

  [*Liora Voss favorability increased. Current: 3%.*]

  Elias muttered under his breath, thoroughly disgruntled. "Stingy to death with you…"

  Why was she so damn impervious to fttery or threats alike?

  Serena caught the low grumbling and gnced back over her shoulder. "Hm?"

  Elias never bothered masking his dislike for her; now, mood already soured, the beautiful face turned outright sullen, green eyes ft with resentment.

  For a split second Serena's expression soured in return—then it melted smoothly into warm, gentle amusement, the shift so practiced it looked almost tender.

  The sudden change sent an icy crawl racing down Elias's spine even as an involuntary inner voice whistled: *Wow. Real-life face-switch.*

  Outside the hospital a sleek bck luxury sedan waited at the curb, driver already seated and engine idling.

  CEOs didn't drive themselves, after all.

  They slid into the back. Serena tipped her chin lightly toward the front. "Drive."

  Elias had barely settled against the leather when a thick contract nded across his thigh with casual force.

  Perhaps the anticipation of what came next had sharpened her edges, or perhaps his persistent attitude had finally scraped past her patience—whatever the reason, Serena's true nature bled through just enough: the words themselves remained perfectly polite, but the undertone carried the unmistakable weight of absolute command. "Read it. If everything's acceptable, sign."

  Elias didn't gnce at a single page. "Pen?"

  Serena let out a short, incredulous huff, the sound almost amused at his audacity—or perhaps at his stupidity. Signing without even skimming the terms.

  "Give him a pen."

  The driver retrieved one from a discreet compartment with the ease of long habit and passed it back.

  "Thanks." Elias took it, already scrawling his name across the signature line while his voice stayed cold and level. "Even if there were problems, what difference would it make? You've already decided you're going to fuck me. You're not exactly leaving room for me to say no."

  The chill in Serena's gaze thawed fractionally; at least the boy possessed some self-awareness.

  But the crude phrasing made her brows knit again.

  To hear such vulgarity spilling from that exquisite mouth felt like desecration.

  And yet—that was exactly how it should be. Only by tarnishing the surface could one truly distinguish the genuine article from the counterfeit.

  *Serena Bckwood favorability unlocked. Current: 0%.*

  *System Theta:* *Impressive work, host.*

  Everything that had just transpired had veered sharply off the original script—yet somehow the plot had still snapped back onto its predetermined rails.

  Elias's pen paused for half a second. He answered without inflection. "Basic operation. Chill with the gze."

  "Next up I'm about to go… enjoy my suffering. So don't pop in and interrupt me out of nowhere."

  *System Theta:* *Understood.*

  With a host like this, it barely needed to lift a digital finger—just emerge occasionally to offer praise, then sit back and let him carry the whole damn thing.

  "Done signing?"

  Serena took the executed contract from his fingers, passed it forward to the driver, then opened her door. "Get out."

  They stepped into the glittering lobby of a five-star hotel and rode the private elevator straight to the top floor—the presidential suite, known in certain circles simply as Serena Bckwood's personal domain.

  The moment the doors parted Elias was hit with blinding opulence; for a second he genuinely wondered whether they'd stepped into a pace instead of a hotel room.

  Filthy capitalists. He really should have demanded a billion—no, ten billion—in hush money.

  Serena's long, elegant fingers moved to the top button of her blouse. Elias started to reach for his own shirt—only for her gaze to flick toward him, cool and faintly amused. "In such a hurry? Shower first."

  He'd just come from that kind of nightclub. She found him dirty.

  Elias's brows pinched. "So many rules?"

  Serena's tone remained perfectly even. "Don't all you men like to be clean? Though if you prefer not to, I won't insist."

  "Troublesome." The word dropped like ice from his lips, as though he were the one setting terms here.

  Even so, he turned toward the bathroom—because as Serena continued unbuttoning, the sheer scale of her wealth had finally registered in full. Two full skyscrapers. And those were just the visible ones. No wonder she carried herself like she already owned the world.

  Elias disappeared into the ensuite with almost indecent haste, eager to scrub himself raw.

  Serena listened to the steady hiss of the rainfall showerhead, and the calm surface of her heart suddenly rippled—then churned.

  She knew precisely why. She had waited for Lucien Hart far too long—long enough that even knowing Elias was merely a lookalike, she could no longer bear another second of dey.

  And Elias, as though he could sense the exact pressure building inside her, deliberately lingered. One hour passed. Then more.

  Finally Serena's patience cracked, voice slicing through the door like frost. "Drowned?"

  The water cut off instantly.

  She pressed two fingers to her temple, massaging lightly. The fact that this boy could give her even the slightest headache was, in its own way, a kind of talent.

  Then a fsh of pale skin caught the corner of her vision.

  She looked up.

  Elias stepped out completely bare—no towel, no pretense, no scrap of modesty—offering every inch of his lithe, water-slick body to a woman he had met for the first time today.

  Serena's eyes darkened with displeasure. His willingness to dispy himself so shamelessly actually dulled her interest, just a fraction.

  Only a fraction.

  Golden hair clung damply to his forehead and temples, heavy with droplets that slid slowly down the strands before falling onto porcein skin still flushed from the heat of the shower—white blushed through with rose, glistening, almost obscenely fresh.

  The sight alone was enough to make blood roar in the veins of any woman with a pulse.

  "Come here." Serena crooked a finger.

  Elias stepped onto the thick carpet; crystal-clear toes sank into the plush taupe pile, the contrast sharpening the delicate roundness of his feet, the smooth swell of his calves, even the fine bones of his ankles—everything refined almost to the point of fragility.

  Serena's gaze went pitch-dark, all surface emotion stripped away in an instant.

  She would see exactly how hard this particur bone really was.

  Serena Bckwood slowly lifted her head, one long-fingered hand rising to push sweat-damp strands of dark hair back from her face, the motion deliberate, almost nguid.

  A faint smile curved her lips as she lowered her gaze to Elias Kane.

  That face had always been unnaturally pale—milk-bathed, porcein-pale—but now it had drained even further, settling into something ghostly, ashen-white. Wet trails glistened across both cheeks, whether sweat or tears impossible to distinguish; they slid in slow, unbroken paths down the sides of his face before disappearing into the disordered golden strands clinging to his temples and jaw.

  Elias's bone really was that hard. Even now—even at this extremity—he had not once opened his mouth to let a single sound escape from the first moment to the st. Serena felt something close to fascination coil inside her chest; this transaction, she decided with quiet certainty, had been utterly, perfectly correct.

  *Serena Bckwood favorability increased. Current: 3%.*

  She extended one hand with measured precision, fingers closing around the delicate line of his jaw, thumb pressing just hard enough to force compliance while the rest of her touch remained almost tender. Her eyes shimmered like still water, voice velvet-soft and coaxing. "Open your mouth."

  She had told him—she would break that bone of his, grind his dignity to dust beneath her heel until he understood exactly what he was in her presence: nothing more than a pything to be used and discarded at whim.

  His exquisite features were twisted now, just enough to betray the depth of the pain; the clear liquid welled faster, spilling steadily from the corners of his eyes in silent, relentless streams that traced fresh paths over already-damp skin before rolling away.

  Elias tried to struggle—tried—but his body had fallen into that absolute, post-climax weakness every man knew too well, the kind that made lifting even a single finger feel like dragging lead through mosses. All he could manage was the faintest side-to-side sway of his head, a token, trembling refusal.

  Serena ughed—soft, delighted. His body already exerted more than sufficient pull on her senses; now this stubbornness acted like gasoline on the slow burn inside her, feeding an indescribable pleasure that made her pulse throb behind her eyes.

  Outwardly she remained the picture of gentleness—inside she was ice and iron, ruthless, unyielding, ced through with the absolute dominance she kept hidden beneath that polished, gentlemanly veneer.

  *Snap.*

  *Serena Bckwood favorability increased. Current: 6%.*

  "Hah…" The sound slipped from her lips, feather-light, almost fond, as she rose to admire her handiwork.

  Freed from restraint, the jade-pale body instinctively curled inward—back arching, knees drawing up, spine rounding into the fetal shrimp posture of an infant seeking shelter from the world.

  Even folded like that, even half-concealed, the damage was impossible to miss: mottled bruises and deep red marks scattered across every visible inch like violent calligraphy; the long, graceful swan neck could only be glimpsed in the narrow gaps between destruction, small isnds of untouched skin surrounded by ruin.

  "Hm?"

  Serena's gaze sharpened. The battered boy suddenly stirred—like the final fre of a dying candle—scraping together the very st dregs of strength left in his ravaged frame in a desperate bid to crawl free of this hell.

  His limbs quivered violently as he inched toward the edge of the mattress, one borious movement after another, until he reached the side—then came the wet, meaty thud of flesh striking carpet.

  Still no scream. The cry she had craved remained locked behind clenched teeth.

  Disappointment flickered through her eyes, dimming the heat there by a fraction—then her hand shot out, fingers closing like manacles around the one slender ankle still trailing across the sheets.

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  It was as though a giant hand had reached out of absolute darkness and yanked him straight back into the abyss.

  Beyond that abyss, one pale foot dangled uselessly in midair, twitching and kicking in tiny, futile spasms—the only outward sign of the frantic resistance still burning somewhere inside him.

  Even Serena had not expected him to have anything left.

  Clearly she had been far too gentle.

  *Serena Bckwood favorability increased. Current: 10%.*

  When the first thin spear of morning sunlight slipped through a gap in the heavy curtains and fell across the room, Serena's shes trembled; only then did realization settle over her like beted frost.

  Calm returned. With it came the faintest thread of regret—not regret for what she had done to Elias (this had been, without question, her most satisfying transaction yet), but for allowing it to happen so many times. He was only a counterfeit, after all. How could a mere substitute command such lingering obsession?

  If Elias had heard the thought, he would probably have spat the words right in her face: *Post-nut crity hitting you? Then get the fuck out already.*

  Serena's brows drew together lightly as she turned her attention to the boy beside her.

  Elias's eyes were half-open, heavy-lidded with exhaustion that bordered on unconsciousness, yet still awake—just barely. After the initial ghostly pallor, faint color had begun creeping back into his cheeks, softening the sharp edges of his features with a trace of zy, post-trauma flush. A single tear clung trembling to his shes, refusing to fall; the overall effect was heartbreakingly fragile, achingly beautiful.

  And no matter how much damage Serena had inflicted, it still paled next to what he had done to her.

  His lips were swollen, obscene—deep ruby red, almost gemstone-dark, yet ruined: twin deep impressions from his own tiger canines bitten viciously into the plush flesh in a final, desperate bid to stay silent.

  Serena scoffed inwardly. He would rather maim himself than give her the satisfaction of a single sound—all for the sake of that pitiful, ughable scrap of pride.

  Stupidity in its purest form.

  She could see it clearly now: Elias was teetering on the absolute brink. One final, perfectly pced strike and he would shatter completely.

  With that realization, Serena rose once more…

  Damn this hard-boned little thing.

  The curse echoed only in her mind as she stared down at him—his eyes wide open now, pupils blown and unfocused, yet his jaw remained locked, teeth grinding so fiercely she half-expected to hear enamel crack.

  For one wild moment she wondered whether she would have to actually kill him before he ever made a sound.

  Of course she only wondered. Having tasted him once, Serena already knew she could not bring herself to discard this substitute. He soothed the endless ache for Lucien Hart far too effectively.

  Her brows furrowed faintly. She moved to the pristine sofa, peeled the sheer bck stockings from her legs, and let them fall to the carpet in a careless heap before turning back to the boy sprawled facedown across the ruined sheets.

  She drew a long, slow breath; when she spoke again her voice had gentled into something almost tender.

  "I still have work. I won't stay to keep you company. When you wake, someone will bring fresh clothes and food. Eat before you leave."

  The words sounded like a doting wife murmuring to a delicate husband.

  Yet the smooth expanse of his back remained painted with every mark she had left—vivid proof of exactly what she had done.

  Serena ignored it completely. Her expression stayed soft, eyes tranquil.

  Elias gave no reply.

  Serena repeated, patient, "Did you hear me?"

  His face stayed buried in the pillow; the answer came muffled, thick with exhaustion and venom, but still perfectly clear. "Nagging. Get lost…"

  The veneer of gentleness nearly cracked. Then it iced over completely.

  Stubborn in softness and in cruelty alike—very well.