MTL - The Group Pet Goose is the White Moonlight of the Paranoid Boss - Chapter 137 Is there a dog outside?

“Mr. Lei, rumor has it that you have a crush on me?”

With a cold icy face, the man ignored her question and continued reading his documents. He later decided to explain himself, “I swear to God I want nothing to do with you! The b*stard who spread the rumor is a dog!”

Snap! Suddenly, a pencil snapped in his hands while their eyes meet. The surrounding seemed to have frozen.

A few moments passed…

“Grrr woof!” Lei Xiao barked…

Qiao Nian has lived in Qiao’s house for 18 years, and his biological parents came to the door. All of a sudden, all the wealthy people around the city knew that Qiao’s family had a fake daughter!

A true daughter is versatile, gentle and kind.

Fake daughters don’t learn or know how to accomplish nothing.

Everyone wanted to see how miserable she went back to Shangougou after being kicked out of the rich family!

Qiao Nian also thought that his biological parents were from Luohe County, and they were poor teachers.

Who knew that the car that my brother drove was a Phaeton, with 3 million naked cars!

My father teaches at National Tsing Hua University, and the teacher is also called a professor!

The top gangsters of the scum family knelt and licked at her grandpa and nodded and bowed…

Qiao Nian:?

enmm…This is not the same as saying yes!

Freed from a group of scumbags, Qiao Nian she became herself.

The college entrance examination champion, the live broadcaster, the heir of intangible cultural heritage…The vests are dropped one by one, and the hot searches around the city are one by one, and the faces of the parents of the scum, the scum, and the scum, are all green.

The black fans are mocking: What is the use of selling people, it’s not just sticking to my brother every day.

Qiao Nian: I’m sorry, I have a partner.

Senior brother: Qiao Nian, let me introduce to you, this is my sister.

Grandpa: Grandpa, what are you doing so hard? What kind of bicycles do you want? Grandpa will buy it for you!

…

The rich and powerful in Beijing are rumoring that Wangye has a wife who is hidden in the golden house. No matter how other people make a fuss, she never wants to bring it out to see people. Don’t ask, the question is the same sentence: “My wife is from the countryside and she is afraid of living.”

Until one day, someone saw the prince who was always noble and cold, pinching a girl’s slender waist, blocking people in the corner of the wall, and muttering with crimson eyes: “Baby, when will you give me a position?”

[Fake daughter, she is a real wealthy] + [Double bosses]

- Description from MTL

In the 1980s, a man came to Hong Kong Island and rose from chaos and darkness.

Establish a mercenary group, acquire a power media company, intervene in the international oil trade, call the shots in the financial world, and stand as a tripartite in the real estate industry.

He established a symbol of an era, the Galactic Empire!

He established a family chaebol that spanned the century, the Su family!

A hundred years later, a world masterpiece “Economic War” was published, and for the first time people deeply realized the mystery and horror of this family.

“In the 100 years since the establishment of the Galaxy Group in the 1980s, it can be seen behind almost every major change in the world.”

The world-renowned economist Lawrence wrote in his book “The Invisible Black Hand”: “When the voice of money resounds, the power of power emerges, the world will bow before this family…

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.