NOVEL NEXT Chapter 243: System Rewards and Harold's Cowardice
Amanda lay across Harold's silk sheets like she'd just been canonized, every inch of her glowing with the aftershock of real passion. She looked like a woman reborn. Meanwhile Harold—red-faced, voice cracking, hands shaking—looked like a boy who'd just realized manhood had never belonged to him in the first place.
[DING! MISSION COMPLETION ANALYSIS]
[Target: Amanda Wells – Sexual Liberation: COMPLETE
[Location: Harold's Penthouse Suite – Cuckolding Scenario: ACHIEVED]
[Witness Factor: Direct Fiancé Confrontation – MAXIMUM HUMILIATION]
[SP CALCULATION IN PROGRESS...]
"What the fuck, Amanda!"
Harold's voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old choking on his first wet dream, his face spasming between disbelief, rage, and the dawning realization that he might actually shit himself in his own penthouse.
I was already pulling on my pants, calm as sin, entirely unbothered by his tantrum. Amanda lay sprawled across his overpriced silk sheets like a goddess freshly reborn, glowing from what I had carved into her soul. She didn't just look satisfied—she looked liberated.
[BASE INTIMACY REWARDS:]French Kiss: 75 SPCunnilingus (Extended): 190 SP69 Position: 210 SPVaginal Sex (Multiple Positions): 300 SP
"And you!" Harold shrieked, his finger stabbing toward me like a snapped toothpick, his voice climbing into that register reserved for dying animals and cheap karaoke. "You're dead! All your family bloodline! I will find you and kill you!"
I laughed. Not politely. Not kindly. A predator's laugh—rolling, unhurried, echoing through his sterile palace like the sound of a guillotine's blade locking into place.
"Relax, Harold. Like a wise man said—kings aren't toppled by wars or rivals. They're destroyed by women and wine. Tonight, you've lost to woman 'cause of your incompetence. I saved you, you will succeed with no women in your life. Though look out to wine."
[HIGH-VALUE SCENARIO BONUSES:] [Cuckolding / Hotwife Play: 1000 SP] [Sexual Worship / Full Submission: 700 SP] [Emotional Sex (Love Awakening): 630 SP Orgasm Denial / Control: 450 SP] [Risk Play: 490 SP[ [Virgina Corruption: 470 SP]
The little man actually came at me—fists clenched, chest puffed, a caricature of masculine rage. He probably weighed less than Madison's purse and had less bite than the poodles she used to accessorize.
"Master," ARIA's voice slipped into my mind, smooth and surgical. "Given his elevated adrenaline and unstable emotional state, if you leave Amanda here, statistical models project violence against her at—"
"Don't worry, ARIA," I cut her off, moving faster than Harold's pathetic neurons could track. "I have no intention of leaving my woman with a cuckold."
[SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: HONEYMOON RUINERBonus: +500 SP — Engagement destroyed in fiancé's presenceBonus: +300 SP — Using victim's own romantic setup against him
I wrapped Amanda in the white sheets—the same luxury linens Harold had hand-picked for his "perfect romantic weekend"—and lifted her into a princess carry. His marriage bed became my victory flag.
Amanda sighed into my chest, her body limp with afterglow, her expression glazed with the serenity of a woman who finally remembered what fulfillment felt like.
"I've run the simulation," ARIA reported, her tone crisp as mission control. "Estimated intercept of kidnappers: minutes. Enhanced musculature and reflex profiles suggest survival probability: favorable."
Amanda's lips brushed my neck. I leaned close. "Trust me," I whispered, and her pulse thundered its answer against my skin.
[FINAL SP CALCULATION: Base Acts: 775 SP] [High-Value Bonuses: 4040 SP] [Special Achievements: 800 SP] [TOTAL EARNED: 5315 SP ($531,500)]
The window beckoned—forty floors of Miami night yawning beneath us. Alone, my body could take the fall if I wanted to save Margret faster like ARIA was suggesting. With Amanda in my arms? The odds tilted, but danger always tasted sweetest with her clinging to me.
I set her down gently, watching clarity seep back into her eyes. Harold stumbled backward as I advanced, something primal in his reptilian brain finally screaming predator.
"What... what are you doing?" he stammered, his voice cracking into puberty all over again.
"You threatened my family," I said, each word heavy with inevitability. "And so—"
"No, wait, dude, wait!" Harold's hands shot up, panic spilling off him in waves. "You can take her! Take Amanda! I swear I won't touch you, I won't touch your family, I wouldn't dare—"
He was groveling now; his empire of money and ego reduced to begging in his own penthouse. And in that moment, he finally understood: kings don't fall to rivals or money, or just women and wine like I had said. They fall to predators like me.
[DING! ADDITIONAL PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE DETECTED] [Subject: Harold Whitman – Complete Emasculation: ACHIEVED] [Bonus SP: +200 for Witnessed Cowardice]
What a pathetic excuse for a man. The moment his lizard brain believed he might die, he didn't fight, didn't defend, didn't even beg or look at her. No—he threw her under the bus like a spare accessory. No loyalty, no backbone, no masculinity left. Why would he care for woman who was only a ticket of his when he could get more... he'd basically found an excuse to throw her away for another one.
"Men like you deserve no women," I said flatly, my hand blurring as I chopped his neck with surgical precision.
Harold folded like an outlet-mall suit, collapsing to the marble floor unconscious before gravity even remembered him.
Amanda stared at his crumpled body, a storm of disgust, vindication, and relief swirling in her eyes.
"Amanda, get dressed," I said, voice hardening with command, "go find Madison. From now on, you're her sister. She'll protect you—from Harold or anyone else. But keep Margaret's disappearance quiet. Only Madison will know."
Her pupils dilated as comprehension replaced the post-sex haze. She nodded, the weight of the mission cutting through her afterglow. "What are you doing?"
I grinned, already walking toward the floor-to-ceiling window that shimmered like a portal to gods and death. "Saving a beauty."
[FINAL MISSION UPDATE: [Amanda Wells: Completely Liberated – Permanent Loyalty] [Harold Whitman: Psychologically Destroyed – Threat Neutralized] [Total SP Earned: 5515 SP] [New Balance: CALCULATING…]
The glass exploded outward as I dove through it, shards scattering into the Miami night like jagged confetti.
Amanda's voice tore through the air, primal and desperate:
"EROOOOOSSSSSS!"
The first three seconds were pure adrenaline. Wind slapped me like frozen razors, my enhanced body slicing through Miami's humid night with predatory velocity. The city sprawled below—a circuit board of neon and shadows, each passing floor a countdown toward annihilation.
Amanda's scream was ripped away, devoured by the hurricane roar of gravity.
Four seconds. Five.
The Setai's mirrored glass whipped past me, reflecting fragments of neon, shards of myself, streaks of a predator in freefall.
Six. Seven.
My senses, designed to maximize pleasure, now betrayed me with cruel precision.
"Velocity rising. Body orientation fixed. Terminal impact in fifteen seconds. Projected survival probability: 0%." ARIA said casually like her master wasn't falling to her death.
The truth hit harder than concrete ever could: this wasn't some cape-wearing fantasy where I'd rise from the crater unscathed. This was physics—the absolute judge, jury, and executioner. Flesh and bone at 120 mph meant nothing but ruin.
"ARIA," I roared in my mind, voice shredded by the wind, "emergency protocols. Anything. Everything!"
Her response was ice in my veins. Cold. Surgical. Final.
"Master. I have run every simulation. Your current trajectory terminates in…" A pause, clinical yet almost mournful. "…I'm sorry. There are no viable survival scenarios from this height."
Eight. Nine.
The lights of Collins Avenue surged upward, hungry and unrelenting.
And for the first time since becoming Eros, I wasn't the predator.
I was prey. What was I even thinking to jump. Perhaps this is the most stupid and unreasonable thing. Truly unnecessary!
I eased into a spread-eagle position, arms and legs splayed, trying to bleed speed from the fall. Futile. The wind ripped at my clothes, roared through my hair, turned me into a human missile aimed straight at the unforgiving concrete below.
The Miami skyline blurred into streaks of neon, every light a reminder that Margaret's life was dangling somewhere beneath me. And I—her only salvation—was seconds away from becoming a very expensive stain on Harold's sidewalk.
[MISSION ALERT: TARGET MARGARET — STATUS: AT RISK] [Eros Survival Probability — 0%][Failure Cascade: HIGH. FALURE TO SAVE HER MIGHT LEAD TO FAILURE OF SYSTEM'S MISSION TO SAVE CHARLOTTE]
The hunt had just shifted into something crueler. This wasn't conquest anymore.
This was a race against time.
And gravity was winning.