MTL - Dr. Jiang Is Pregnant With His Nemesis’s Child - Chapter 85

Three years ago, Cambria Vale was the trembling bride standing beside Maddox Raye the powerful billionaire who humiliated her and destroyed their marriage before it ever had a chance to bloom.Now she’s back. Not as his wife, but as a rival. Hardened. Beautiful. Unrecognizable. And hellbent on revenge.When a media scandal threatens Maddox’s empire, he’s forced to remarry the one woman he thinks he can control. But Cambria isn’t here to be tamed. She’s here to burn his kingdom to the ground.The only thing more dangerous than betrayal… is falling in love with your enemy again.

Getting lost in a trip made Tang Siyu be mistaken for streetwalker, and she lost her wedding night. After returning home, she found the fiance cheat her with her sister. She cancelled the wedding in anger and declared missing.

Five years later, she came back with her gifted son. Unexpectedly, her baby took part in the piano competition in order to find his father. “My name is Tang Bao, my mother is Tang Siyu who is super beautiful! I am four and a half years old this year. If there is a man who looks like me may be my father. Please contact me! ” Behind the scenes, a woman was mad. A few days later, the mysterious man called himself the father of her child. Tang Siyu looks at this tall and handsome man who looks like her son. She is angry. So, he was the bastard five years ago?

After an accidental electrocution, Zhang Yi realized he could hide his body and become an invisible man. That incident marked a new chapter in his life. The magnificent president of the company, the hot policewoman, and the mischievous daughter of a rich man.“Apologies. I'm a righteous man. I've never abused my power of turning invisible to creep on beautiful girls, because I'd only stand boldly before them to look at them! You can't see me. You can't see me. You can't see me…”

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.