Evil MC's NTR Harem

Derek's jaw dropped, hanging open as his eyes bulged at what he saw. It wasn't at all what he had imagined.

Staring back at him was a picture—a group photo, to be exact.

At the center was Sophia, laughing with a radiant smile. Flanking her on either side were two stunning women he recognized as her closest friends.

And then there was the fourth figure, towering in the background, his arm draped protectively over Sophia's shoulder. It was Ross.

Around him, in a semi-circle, stood Ross's incredibly attractive women, all beaming broadly as if mocking his actions. The caption beneath the photo hit Derek like a punch to the gut:

"Thanks for the laugh, Derek. We all needed it."

The smiley face felt like a dagger twisting in his chest. It was clear that not only had Sophia seen his message, but she had also shared it with her friends—and possibly even her boyfriend.

Derek's face turned beet red as the realization sank in. They were laughing at him. His bold move, his so-called "master plan," had turned him into a joke.

His hands shook, not from excitement anymore, but from a mix of humiliation and fury.

"No… no way…" he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. He reread the message over and over, hoping he was misunderstanding somehow. But the image and the caption didn't change.

As he sank back onto his bed, his earlier elation now replaced with a heavy sense of dread, Derek groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Somewhere, he could practically hear Sophia and her friends laughing at his expense. And worst of all, he knew there was no coming back from this.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Derek raged for a few minutes, shouting like a madman before slumping onto the bed, weak with frustration.

"FUCK!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty house. His mind spiraled with anger and bitterness as he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.

He vowed to himself that Sophia would pay. If he couldn't succeed through seduction, he would resort to more nefarious means to have her, no matter the cost.

"You'll pay for this, bitch," he muttered darkly under his breath, his eyes glinting with malice.

He stood up again and paced the room for a while longer, replaying every interaction he'd had with her, scrutinizing where he might have gone wrong.

His frustration boiled over into a destructive urge, and he kicked over a chair, the crash reverberating through the house. Finally spent, Derek collapsed onto the bed, his fury giving way to exhaustion.

With that last venomous thought, he drifted into a surprisingly sound sleep.

A few hours later…

"SPLASH!" Derek jolted awake, drenched in cold water. He gasped and spluttered, struggling to recover from the icy assault.

His head throbbed as his vision cleared, and he rubbed his eyes to focus on the figures before him. Two people stood in the room.

One was a large man wearing a menacing demon mask, the eerie glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows over the grotesque visage. The other was someone Derek knew all too well.

All traces of sleep evaporated as Derek's anger flared. He shot up in bed, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Ross! What the hell are you doing here?!" he demanded, furious that his privacy had been violated.

He had just bought this big house, relishing the solitude it promised, and was certain no one else was supposed to be here.

His heart pounded as he quickly scanned the room, looking for a way to gain the upper hand.

Ross, standing with an infuriatingly calm demeanor, smirked.

"Nice place you've got here, Derek. Shame about the security." His tone dripped with mockery, further stoking Derek's rage.

"BANG!" A gut-wrenching punch landed in Derek's stomach, delivered so swiftly he only caught a faint blur of the masked man's movement.

The sheer force sent him flying onto the bed, clutching his midsection in agony. The pain was immediate and excruciating, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Ahhhhhrrggg…" Derek groaned, his voice weak and broken. He retched violently, vomiting up the remnants of his dinner from the night before.

The acrid taste of bile filled his mouth as tears streamed down his face. His vision blurred as he lay sprawled on the bed, gasping for air and trying to process what had just happened.

For a moment, through the haze of pain, a shocking realization struck him: this was the first real injury he had ever experienced in his life.

Derek, who had always lived a charmed, luxurious existence, was entirely unprepared for this kind of raw, physical suffering.

His world had always been one of privilege, where problems could be solved with money or influence. Now, he was utterly powerless.

The masked man loomed over him, his imposing figure casting a dark shadow. Ross stepped closer, his smirk replaced with a cold, calculating expression.

"You've had it too easy for too long, Derek," Ross said, his voice low and menacing.

"It's time someone taught you what real consequences feel like."

Derek's mind raced. Who were these people to invade his home, to strike him down like this?

And why was Ross—someone he once considered a mere rival—orchestrating this nightmare?

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, clouded by pain and fear, but one thing was clear: his charmed life had just taken a dark and violent turn.

"What are you doing?! Do you know who my father is?!" Derek gasped, his face red with fury as he staggered to his feet, clutching his side.

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, the familiar arrogance returned. His voice rose with the bravado of someone who had always relied on his name to shield him.

"Do you even know who you're messing with?! My father will destroy you!"

Ross didn't flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his smirk deepening.

"Karl Davies. Secretary of Defense. Big shot, right?" He paused, letting the words hang in the air for just a second too long.

"So what? Do you see your father here? Because I sure don't. And until he shows up, Derek, it's just you and me. So, go ahead—cry for me."