Real Family (2)

'Holy shit, what a raging bitch! Here I was thinking she was some classy, elegant goddess, but nope—turns out she's just a premium-grade asshole wrapped in silk pajamas.'

Adonis shook his head, disappointed on a spiritual level.

And then—the cherry on top of this shit sundae—Livvy stomped her way toward him, heels clicking like a judge slamming down the gavel of his impending doom.

With each stomp, her chest bounced like two overenthusiastic Jell-O shots at a frat party.

Adonis' eyes? Completely involuntary spectators.

"I mean, just LOOK at him!" she shrieked. "He doesn't even have an ounce of remorse on his face!"

'Yeah, lady, that's 'cause I have no goddamn idea what's going on!'

And then—betrayal.

His fragile, asthmatic brother decided to hop on the "Let's Fuck Over Adonis" train.

"Yes, that's true," Mr. Cardiac Arrest huffed. "We should just throw him out of this penthouse. That should teach him! Inviting problems like this—who the hell does he think he is?"

Adonis' brain short-circuited.

'Oh, so I was rich before… and now, I'm about to be a broke-ass hobo? Well, that's just fucking great!'

He was truly, genuinely flabbergasted.

Like, what kind of speedrun bullshit was this? One minute, he wakes up in luxury, and the next, these people are ready to yeet him into the streets like expired milk.

'Goddammit! Tough fucking luck!'

He internally cursed, fully convinced his soul was cursed by the gods of poverty and bad decisions.

WHACK!

Adonis barely had time to process what was happening before Livvy's palm made unexpected, yet intimate contact with his face.

It wasn't the kind of slap that'd send him flying across the room like a cheap action movie stunt, but it sure as hell came out of nowhere.

'The fuck?!'

Before he could even file an official complaint with the Universe, his brain short-circuited.

And then—bam!—like a shitty WiFi connection suddenly stabilizing, his brain got flooded with memories of this woman.

And oh boy, they were something.

A slow, knowing grin crept onto his lips, threatening to become a full-blown shit-eating smirk.

Why? Because this woman was—

WHAM.

Before he could even finish that thought, Livvy flung her arms open and smashed her perfect, award-winning fun bags right into his face.

The impact? Like getting hit by two luxurious airbags scented with expensive-ass perfume.

"Stupid idiot!"

She wailed, squeezing him like she was trying to exorcise his soul through sheer force.

"Do you have any idea how much we were worried because of you!!!"

Adonis blinked, half-dizzy from the boob concussion.

Right. Now it all made sense.

Despite being his brother's wife, Livvy and he were basically chaotic siblings. A duo of professional shit-disturbers who loved to annoy the hell out of each other for sport.

'This…'

Adonis was speechless—like a dude who just realized his "all-you-can-eat" buffet had a two-plate limit.

On one hand, he felt something intensely familiar with these people. Like an old pair of underwear—worn-in, slightly stretched out, but still oddly comforting.

It wasn't like his old world, where after his parents' deaths, every random asshole with a half-drop of shared DNA suddenly crawled out of the woodwork claiming to be his "dear, beloved family."

Of course, it was all bullshit. The kind of fake love that smelled like expired cologne and hidden agendas. But did Adonis fall for it? Not a fucking chance.

Instead, he played the game.

He seduced their wives, made their aunties weak in the knees, and had them fawning over him like he was the last bottle of fine wine at a rich people's funeral.

Some of them fell for his charm. Others? They just saw dollar signs and thought shaking their tits at him would get them a piece of the inheritance pie.

Oh, but boy, boy, boy… were they in for a ride.

Even with his dysfunctional dick, he made those greedy, fake-ass aunties suck it.

Limp or not, he made them do it.

Made them eat his ass like it was a Michelin-starred delicacy.

Some even straight-up breastfed him—like he was an overgrown, shameless baby who just refused to be weaned off.

And when he was sure he had milked every single one of them dry—emotionally, physically, financially—he summoned them all.

Husbands. Wives. The whole goddamn zoo.

Told them it was a "meeting about the future of the company."

Oh, what a future it was.

Giddy and grinning like hyenas at a buffet, everyone showed up.

Because let's be real—who the hell was going to miss out on their big millionaire payout after they'd already sucked Adonis's limp dick like it was their life's work?

And there he was—seated like a mafia boss at the head of the long-ass conference table with expensive tuxedo and all, while the husbands sat stiff as wooden planks in their seats. Giddy and all.

Meanwhile, their wives stood prim, proper, and suspiciously obedient, like trophy statues at a rich man's funeral.

The room buzzed with excitement and greed. Everyone was ready to cash in.

And then, with the grace of a man who had just been waiting to drop the biggest "fuck you" of the century, Adonis flicked a switch.

Boom.

Every single massive monitor in the room lit up, filling the walls with high-definition footage of him, their wives, and enough compromising positions to make a yoga instructor break a sweat.

Different screens. Different angles. Different levels of betrayal.

It was a cinematic masterpiece—an Avengers-level crossover of infidelity.

The husbands' jaws hit the floor.

The wives suddenly forgot how to breathe.

And Adonis sat back like a villain in a movie, admiring his handiwork.

Because, of course, these morons had been too stupid to consider that the entire goddamn building was rigged with cameras.

Oh, but now they knew.

And oh boy, oh boy—hell didn't just break loose, it threw a goddamn block party.

Some husbands lost their goddamn minds, swinging fists at their wives like they were in a medieval tavern brawl. Others—the truly unhinged ones—just nodded sagely, as if their wives' Olympic-level adultery was part of some grand financial strategy.

One dude even had the audacity to mutter, "Well… at least it was for the money, right?"

To which Adonis promptly booted his dumbass out the door, declaring, "Congratulations, your wife is a certified cheating whore! You get absolutely nothing! Now go cry in a Motel 6."

It was absolute pandemonium. A day of historic proportions. A Shakespearean tragedy, if Shakespeare had been on crack.

And from that day forward, Adonis made a solemn vow:

Never again would he let blood relatives anywhere near him.

And so, in a tale as old as time, his petty little heart found solace in the most ridiculous revenge addiction known to man—stealing wives and girlfriends.

And the worst part?

He was damn good at it.