Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 722 Seven

"How did it taste, Heaven? Was it as good as it smelled?" one of the girls asked, leaning forward, her curiosity barely contained.

All around the room, the others paused what they were doing.

Conversations died down, utensils hovered mid-air, and the soft rustle of movement quieted.

It was as if the entire room had collectively held its breath to hear her answer.

Everyone had been wondering what that mysterious, mouth-watering aroma had been, and now they were about to find out.

Heaven, sitting with crossed legs and her expression unreadable, slowly set down her fork.

She dabbed the corner of her lips with a napkin, her eyes flicking up at the audience she now held in the palm of her hand.

"Yup," she finally said, her voice carrying just the right amount of dramatic pause.

"In my 25 years on this planet, that is hands down the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Nothing else even comes close."

A few gasps and murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

"But..." she added, her lips curling into a half-smirk before turning into a scowl. "It’s a shame the man who made it is a complete bastard."

Her declaration sent a wave of surprise through the listeners. Eyebrows raised. Heads turned.

"What? Why?" someone asked.

"What did he do?"

"Did he say something nasty?"

"Spill!"

Their voices overlapped as curiosity morphed into a full-blown demand for gossip.

It didn’t take long before Heaven, clearly enjoying the attention, recounted the brief but fiery exchange she’d had with Ross.

Within minutes, the story had circulated throughout the house.

People were whispering behind their hands, shooting glances at Ross, who was now sitting at the far end of the room with a relaxed grin on his face, as if all the drama unfolding around him didn’t bother him in the slightest.

A lanky man with a cocky grin who was popular in his circle of friends spoke up with a scoff.

He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the table, making a show of it.

"Hah... don’t make me laugh, Ross. You really think you’ve got a shot with Heaven? That girl’s way out of your league. You trying to get with her is a joke. Just close your eyes and jack off to the idea like everyone else."

The room burst into laughter. A few people clapped, others whistled. Ross didn’t blink. His smirk only grew deeper.

He set down his drink and finally spoke, his voice calm but charged with something heavier—conviction.

"I don’t think so," he said, rising slowly to his feet. The sudden shift in posture made a few people quiet down.

"Let me tell you what’s going to happen instead." He scanned the room, eyes locking with Heaven’s for just a second.

"Before this weekly task is over... Heaven is going to come to me. Not just come to me—she’s going to beg me to fuck her."

Gasps filled the room like a wave crashing through a crowd.

Heaven’s eyes narrowed instantly, but a flicker of something—amusement? Interest?—crossed her face before she scoffed and looked away.

"Oh please," someone muttered.

"Arrogant bastard," another whispered.

But deep down, whether they wanted to admit it or not, everyone was now waiting to see if Ross’s insane prediction would come true.

Dinner arrived, and it didn’t take long for someone to finally understand what Ross had meant with his bold statement earlier.

As the group settled around the long dining table, laughter and idle chatter filled the air.

Plates clinked, spoons scraped, and the aroma of freshly prepared dishes wafted across the room.

Everyone was enjoying the meal—everyone except one person.

"Heaven? What’s the matter?" a girl sitting beside her asked, eyeing her untouched plate. "Don’t you like the food?"

All eyes shifted toward Heaven, who sat motionless, her fork barely lifted, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead.

She looked pale—unnaturally so—and her expression was tight, like she was trying not to gag.

"No... I’m fine. Just not feeling well," Heaven said, forcing a weak smile. Her voice lacked conviction.

A few more heads turned her way. It was obvious something was wrong.

Trevor, who had been watching her with concern from across the table, slammed his glass down louder than necessary.

"I knew it," he declared, looking righteously indignant. "That big dickhead probably put something in your food earlier. He must’ve messed with it to mess with you. We should call the house boss and get a doctor in here, Heaven. Seriously."

He leaned forward, trying to sound protective but also making sure everyone heard him.

After all, he liked Heaven. A lot. And who wouldn’t?

She was easily a 10 out of 10—beautiful, confident, and the center of everyone’s attention.

If he could score some points now, maybe she’d finally notice him the way he noticed her.

Heaven shook her head, her expression unreadable.

"It’s nothing," she muttered.

But her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her spoon.

She forced herself to take a bite, chewing slowly like she was eating paper instead of food. Every swallow looked like a struggle.

The atmosphere at the table shifted. The earlier noise and cheer died down, replaced by quiet glances and whispered suspicions.

Trevor leaned closer, still watching her. "Are you sure? You really don’t look okay."

Heaven didn’t answer. She just kept chewing, eyes vacant, trying to hold herself together.

But even she couldn’t deny it anymore—the taste she once called the most delicious thing she’d ever had now tasted like ash on her tongue.

And Ross, from across the room, was watching her with a smile that said everything.

The night passed, and soon the third day of the week arrived.

Breakfast came and went. Then lunch. Still, nothing had changed.

Heaven pushed the food around on her plate with growing frustration.

No matter what she tried—sweet, savory, spicy—everything tasted bland, dull, almost offensive.

What once brought her joy now felt like chewing cardboard soaked in bitterness.

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