Unexpected Second Chance at Love - Chapter 949 Suspicion

April Jones was submissive and weak, she gave in to her stepmother and stepsisters every whim. Her father was busy with the business and had no time for her. They took everything from her even her life. She died a horrifying death, now reborn she plans to change her fate and take back all she had lost.

Dean Davis is a notorious CEO he built his business from he was young withhis own blood and sweat. His vicious uncle sent some thugs to deal with him one night, that same night he met his angel April.

Both died, both were reborn.

April only wants revenge and gave up on love, when Dean meets his angel for a second time, he wants to love her but doesn’t know-how.

(This book is full of revenge, romance, comedy and drama. If you enjoy a weak to strong female lead along with a doting male lead this book is for you.)

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EXTRACT

“Ummm... Thanks.” She took a bite and started to eat. She looked at him and slowly said, “It’s probably a bit late but, hi I’m your new neighbour April Jones.”

“Hi April, I’m Dean Davis.” He reached out his and so did she, they shook as they greeted each other.

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” She smiled at him and then took a bite of her pancake.

However, she missed the look in Deans eyes. He, at this moment, was full of happiness like a teenage boy in love.

Hearing her finally say his name was the most soothing sound to his ears. It sounded so sweet, so soft, he was greedy for more. In a good mood, he continued eating all the food she cooked.

What made his heart softened more was he actually wanted to hold her small hand again and never let go. Thinking of it, he swore inside, he’ll never let her go.

Su Jianan was marrying the love of her life. It all seemed picture-perfect, except for a few catches. One, it was a marriage of convenience. Two, she would be divorced after two years.

I just shut the door, why should I kill the devil.

No, I need a demon hunter, Dante, it’s up to you.

Cultists, demons, traitors, and even fanatics, it seems that there are too many things to cut. This world needs justice, and now justice is angry.

(Mainly the PF system, and then the Pathfinder Wrath of Righteous mod. Note that mods are not games.)

(In the end, all the dice in this novel use real dice, not dice girls, nor set by myself.)

- 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.