Chapter 152

The familiar alert chimed through the room.

Sebastian bolted upright from the sofa, his face twisting in shock. "Bloody hell!"

He swung his Zen staff with practiced precision, lunging forward. But before he could complete the motion, Harrison spun mid-air, landing gracefully as her battle-axe came down in one swift arc.

Game over.

Just like that—he was dead.

Sebastian stared at the screen, stunned. The abrupt defeat caught Nathaniel's attention, his sharp gaze flicking toward his friend with mild amusement.

Never one to accept failure, Sebastian growled, [Harrison, rematch!]

Harrison agreed without hesitation. The second round began.

Two seconds later, Sebastian's furious shout echoed through the penthouse. "Damn it! No—this can't be happening!"

"Game over."

Another loss.

Sebastian's jaw clenched. [Harrison, one more round!]

Harrison's response was calm. [Mr. Willowbrook, think carefully. If you lose again, your rank drops to bronze.]

Sebastian had held the champion title for months. Two defeats against Harrison had already pushed him to the edge. One more loss, and he'd plummet.

Nathaniel's deep voice cut through the tension. "Sebastian, what's all this noise about?"

Sebastian's eyes lit up. He scrambled toward Nathaniel like a man grasping at salvation. "Nathaniel, help me! Play against her for me!"

Nathaniel barely glanced at him, disinterested. So, Sebastian had been battling Harrison?

He'd seen the humiliating defeats—how Sebastian barely lasted seconds against her. Last time, he'd been surprised by Harrison's reflexes in the game. Impressive, really.

But Nathaniel had no intention of playing.

Not after last night.

She'd left without a word, leaving only a cold "thank you" note. This morning, she'd called, repeating those same hollow words before immediately offering to "repay" him—as if their relationship was nothing more than transactions of flesh and favors.

Did she truly believe he helped her for that?

Nathaniel Falcon had no shortage of willing women. He didn't need to chase after her.

Who did she think she was?

"Come on, Nathaniel! Teach her a lesson!"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened.

Maybe she did need to be taught one.

He took the phone from Sebastian.

Nathaniel wasn't just a business prodigy—he'd been a gaming legend in his youth. Years ago, he'd recognized the gaming industry's potential and coded his own programs, turning them into his first fortune.

As Falcon Enterprises' heir, he'd mastered everything from racing to piloting. But now, with the empire on his shoulders, he rarely indulged in such distractions.

This time, he agreed for one reason: to humble Harrison.

Last night, she'd cried in his arms. He'd hated seeing her tears. Now, she wasn't crying—but part of him wanted to make her.

A flaw all men shared, perhaps.

Nathaniel tapped the screen. The third round began.

Harrison versus Nathaniel.

Sebastian grinned, pumping his fist. "Destroy her, Nathaniel! One-hit KO!"

Nathaniel intended to end it quickly.

But he couldn't.

He paused, waiting. Harrison struck first—her signature axe swing. He dodged effortlessly.

His counterattack came swift, but Harrison twisted away just in time.

Nathaniel hadn't taken her seriously at first. But after three exchanges, his relaxed posture shifted. He straightened, fingers flying across the screen, focus razor-sharp.

Harrison was fast.

Precise. Ruthless. Every move lethal.

Nathaniel had never seen anything like it.