What do I do…?
Maybe I should borrow the money… but who would lend me such a large sum?
On the way home, Felicia's mind wouldn't stop racing. She was still worried about her father, every possible scenario playing out in her head.
I can't think of anyone who'd help… except—
She thought of Jack Kadere. The man was eccentric, mysterious… and clearly wealthy. Even Tony Stark had shown up to buy one of his paintings.
Out of everyone she knew, he was the only one who could help—and might actually agree to it.
Felicia bit her lip. Between swallowing her pride and getting her father's prison sentence reduced, she made her choice quickly.
…But would he really help me?
Their relationship wasn't that close, and Jack had no shortage of women around him.
She lingered for a long while just down the street from her house, hesitating. Finally, she clenched her fists and made up her mind—
Even if it means using my body…
If it's him, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Felicia pulled out her phone, ready to call Jack.
Just then—
"Ohhh~ My dear Felicia… finally caught you."
The voice was lecherous, dripping with arrogance.
She turned to see a high school boy swaggering toward her. Judging from the expensive designer clothes, he came from a well-off family.
"Ryan," Felicia said flatly, her voice turning icy. "Loitering outside someone's home is harassment. Walk away, or I call the police."
Ryan smirked, his confidence oozing. "Oh, that's cute. The thief's daughter threatening to call the cops—real ironic, don't you think?"
Felicia's eyes sharpened. "How do you know about that?"
"Let's just say I was there when they dragged your old man away." His grin widened. "Guess the rumors weren't exaggerating."
He took another step toward her, his gaze lingering with deliberate arrogance. "Why do you keep acting like you're too good for me, Felicia?"
"Stop saying my name."
"Or what? You'll make me?"
Her patience snapped.
The faint warmth in her expression—the kind she reserved for people she actually tolerated—vanished. Now, her stare was pure frost.
With her pale hair and unblinking eyes, she might as well have been carved from ice.
But Ryan wasn't backing down. If anything, he thought he had the upper hand.
"Money's tight now, isn't it?" he taunted. "Must be hard, knowing your dad's locked up with people who… don't play nice. I could help you out. All it takes is a little of your time."
Felicia let out a sudden, derisive laugh. Her lips curled in amusement.
"Oh, Ryan," she said, her voice sweetly mocking. "Even if I were that desperate, you'd be the last person I'd come to."
She stepped closer, her tone razor-sharp.
"I've already got my sights set on someone better."
Ryan's temper finally snapped. "You—!" His face twisted in fury. "You'll regret this!"
He lunged at her, his movements rough, his intent unmistakable—he meant to drag her into the alley and take what she wouldn't give.
Felicia's breath hitched. "Ryan, have you lost your mind?!"
It was too late to run. Too late to do anything but react.
As his fingers clawed toward her, a memory flashed—Jack Kadere's voice, steady and sure, guiding her through every motion. "Timing is everything. Use their momentum against them."
She exhaled. Steady.
In one fluid motion, she sidestepped, letting Ryan's grasp close on empty air. He stumbled forward, off-balance, and before he could recover, she pivoted—
Crack!
Her foot connected with his face in a perfect, brutal arc.
Ryan reeled back with a strangled cry, crashing against the alley wall. His hands flew to his nose, coming away scarlet. She broke it?! His vision swam. Since when could she fight like this?!
Before he could even process the pain, a hand fisted in his hair and slammed his forehead into the brick.
"GAAHH—!"
His scream shattered the night.
"Pathetic," a voice remarked, almost bored.
Ryan crumpled to the ground, whimpering, as Jack Kadere stepped over him like discarded trash.
"See?" Jack said, turning to Felicia with a faint smirk. "Told you that move was effective."
"Jack!" Relief flooded her voice. In an instant, she was in his arms, pressing close as if she could fuse herself to him.
His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away the tension. "Call me Jack once more," he murmured.
"Jack…" Her breath trembled, her eyes searching his. Then, without warning, she kissed him—hard, desperate, pouring every ounce of fear and fury and relief into it.
Jack didn't hesitate. His hands anchored her waist, his mouth moving against hers with practiced ease, swallowing her chaos and giving back calm.
Under the flickering streetlights, they looked like something out of a film—beautiful, dangerous, utterly absorbed in each other.
The only flaw in the scene? Ryan's broken sobs at their feet.
Occasionally, without breaking the kiss, one of them would kick him away with a foot—just far enough to keep his whimpering from killing the mood.