Chapter 3: Rewrite the Script

What the hell does that mean?

She just rejected me, and now she’s run off to a bar.

And not just any bar—the kind where anything goes.

All my joking mood vanished. I scrambled out of Derek’s clothes pile, threw on a jacket without changing, and rushed out the door.

Speeding through the night, I couldn’t help but remember how I first met Derek—it was at a bar too.

Back then, Derek wasn’t the awe-inspiring President Cross yet. Just a young woman who’d inherited the family business and was getting squeezed from all sides.

That night, Derek got her ass grabbed by an Alpha, and she smashed the guy’s head open right there.

People who hang out in those bars all have some kind of backing, so the outcome was obvious.

Surrounded by more than ten high-level Alphas, Derek was pinned down and looked a mess.

I just happened to pass by, saw that cold, stunning face, and felt a surge of pity—or maybe just lust.

I let my Enigma pheromones out—yeah, it’s a whole thing. Don’t ask me to explain. Just know it means I’m not supposed to fall for someone like Derek—and instantly suppressed all the Alphas, saving her.

Then, while Derek was dazed, I stole a kiss.

The first time I kissed her, her whole body stiffened, eyes icy, like she wanted to eat me alive.

But she was too good-looking, and her scent was addictive—I couldn’t help but kiss her a few more times.

In the end, Derek kicked me across the room.

Clutching my stomach, hurting and twitching, I still grinned at her.

That was when I knew—I was a goner.

Later, when I heard the Cross Group was about to collapse, I contacted Derek and proposed a business marriage.

The deal: I’d pay off all her debts, and she’d marry me. During my heat, she’d cooperate with me unconditionally.

Derek agreed, but she clearly didn’t keep her word.

“Heh, so much for ‘unconditional cooperation’.”

I sneered, stomping the gas pedal, the car rocketing into the night.

Derek, you’d better not let me down.

Otherwise, I can’t promise what I’ll do.

My mind raced as I barreled past empty Waffle Houses and gas stations glowing under sodium lights. Every old oak and Spanish moss–draped street blurred together. Savannah could feel so small and yet endless when you were chasing someone through it. I couldn’t shake the image of Derek, that stubborn set to her jaw, walking straight into trouble.