They say villains are not born.

They say villains are not born—they are forged by society. But mine was not forged by strangers. Mine was shaped by the very people I trusted the most. I was betrayed by the woman I had served faithfully my entire life. My name is Steven Shawn. I once believed in the balance of the universe, in the laws of cause and effect. I thought the world was fair—until the day I died. But fate was not finished with me. I was given a second chance. And that was the day my villain arc began. … June 15, 2025. 12:51 p.m. I stood among people dressed in black, their faces painted with sorrow as the undertakers carried the coffin toward the grave. I studied them closely—some wept uncontrollably, others wore masks of grief without a single tear, and a few had only come for the food that would follow. I watched as they lowered my body into the ground, and a single tear slipped down my cheek. The heavens seemed to share my grief, unleashing a sudden rain that fell in thin, relentless needles, soaking through my coat until the cold sank deep into my bones. Most of the guests scattered to take cover, but the undertakers and I remained in the downpour. This was my last goodbye, and I intended to give it sincerely. My wife and “children” stood in the rain as well, wailing as the final rites were performed. I paid no mind to her crocodile tears—her display was nothing but deception, an act meant to convince others of her loyalty. But when she suddenly threatened to throw herself into the grave after me, I could only ask myself: Why the hell would she do that? As soon as my body was buried, I couldn’t hold back my grief. Memories of my life flashed before me in sharp fragments, each one cutting deeper than the last. I guess it’s time for me to leave—home is calling. I turned to the two little ones wailing beside the grave. My heart ached as I bent down to comfort them, even though neither of them were mine. They were innocent in all this—their only crime was being born to the woman who ruined my life. “Your father isn’t gone,” I whispered softly, wiping their tears with my thumbs. “He’s alive, watching you in secret.” “Really?” Elena, the youngest, blinked up at me with wide, tear-streaked eyes. “But why won’t he answer when I call? Why are they covering him with sand? Will he grow back?” She was only three, yet her questions pierced me like arrows. I forced a smile and brushed her hair back gently. “You won’t see him anymore, but he’ll always be here—watching you grow, protecting you in secret. So don’t be sad, little one, or you’ll make him sad too. Be strong, and let him know you’re his brave girl.” Elena sniffled, then nodded. A small, trembling smile broke through her tears. “I’ll always make him happy,” she promised, hugging me tightly. “Thank you, Uncle.” I turned to her brother, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Protect your sister with everything you have. She’s the only family you’ve got left.” He nodded solemnly, and I gave his back a reassuring pat before standing to walk away. But then— “Wait!” The voice froze me in place. Familiar. Venomous. My whole body trembled as she approached, that wide, practiced smile plastered across her face. She was still beautiful—too beautiful. Even without the paint of makeup, her face glowed with natural allure, and her voluptuous figure was proof enough that I’d once had an eye for good things. “Mrs. Shawn,” I greeted, forcing a smile of my own, masking the storm boiling inside me. “Are you a friend of Steven?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as though she were trying to place my face. “No,” I replied smoothly, masking the truth. “We only met once or twice during business meetings.” “You’re a business partner then,” she said, her expression easing. The smile returned to her lips, though I noticed how her gaze lingered on me—stealing glances, studying my features. Perhaps she wondered why a man who barely knew her husband seemed so shattered, so grief-stricken, at his funeral. “Would you like to join us for a casserole?” she offered, gesturing toward the house. I hesitated, but eventually followed her inside. Not because of her invitation, but because I hadn’t yet found who I was looking for—the true reason I was here. The one who had taken my life… and the weapon he used. I remembered it clearly. A black Toyota Corolla with the plate number DMC 4582. A California plate. Behind the wheel was a muscular man, heavy-set, with a build that could break a man in half. It all happened on June 13th. I was walking home from the hospital, clutching the paternity test results in my hand, my thoughts spiraling. I must have looked like a ghost even then, drifting along the roadside with no sense of direction—possessed by the truth I had just uncovered. The sky was shrouded in dark clouds, and through the gloom came the blinding glare of two headlights. The car charged at me at full speed, unstoppable, merciless. In an instant, metal met flesh, and I was hurled into the air like a kite with its string severed. As the world spun around me, pain coursing through every nerve, I caught a final glimpse—the driver stepping out, approaching. My vision was blurred, my glasses lost somewhere in the chaos of the collision. I strained to see his face, but it slipped away from me, hidden in the haze between life and death. My bleary eyes grew heavier, closing against my will. I fought to keep them open, but life itself felt like air slipping through my fingers—impossible to hold. At last, I surrendered, closing them in regret. Then, with one final struggle, something pulled me back. Against all odds, I opened my eyes again—only to be met by a beautiful face hovering over mine. Her body pressed against me, her movements slow and deliberate, sending unfamiliar waves of sensation through me. The rhythm of her touch blurred my thoughts, stirring my mind with signals I could barely comprehend. She kissed me gently, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles against mine. The sensations coursed through my veins, igniting every nerve as though my blood itself was set aflame. Was this heaven? No—it didn’t feel like it. But it wasn’t hell either. The woman before me was something else entirely—beautiful, dangerous, intoxicating. She looked like a succubus, ready to claim my soul with every breath I took. Her face was so close it stole the very air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for her. Her lips were full and impossibly soft, carrying the sweet taste of strawberries as they pressed against mine, a kiss that was both tender and consuming. I felt as if I was in heaven as her tight p***y gripped my erection tightly, sending waves of pleasure to my brain. I was skeptical at first, but then her wide eyes locked onto mine with a heat that was impossible to ignore—an intensity that felt like both a challenge and a promise. They burned with a dangerous allure, stripping away hesitation and pulling me into her orbit. Every curve of her lips, every flicker of her gaze carried the same unspoken message: she wanted me, completely. I discarded reasoning and gave in to temptation. I held her in place, my lips connected to hers as I began thrusting my hips upward. It was slow and deliberate at first, but then I increased pace and her scream rose through the roof. The smirk faded from her lips, replaced by wide-eyed astonishment as her breath caught in her throat. She clung to me, writhing in my arms, her body responding to every relentless movement as I pushed her deeper into the whirlwind of sensation. We were at it for 20 more minutes before I felt the muscles at the base of my p***s contrast as the semen slowly builds up in my urethra. “I'm Cumming.” I said as I tried pushing her away. But I felt her v****a walls tighten up on my p***s instead as she held me down with both hands while bouncing on my c**k like a cowgirl galloping on a wild horse. My body spasmed for a few seconds and I released my seed in her. She slid off me, both of us gasping for breath after the intense, exhausting act. It was only then that reality struck me—I found myself in an unfamiliar bedroom, its strangeness pulling me out of the haze. While I struggled to piece together how I had ended up here, a sudden chime rang inside my head—loud, resounding, almost divine. My entire body vibrated to its strange frequency. My brain pounded like a war drum as a flood of alien memories poured into me… memories I knew I had never lived. That’s when the truth hit me like a thunderbolt—this body wasn’t mine. The life flashing before my eyes belonged to someone else, someone whose vessel I now inhabited. With trembling hands, I reached for “my” phone. The screen lit up: June 14, 3:59 a.m. Just hours after the moment of my death. A chill ran down my spine. Perhaps the universe had finally taken pity on me, granting me a second chance. But this time, I wouldn’t waste it. This time, I would make it count. I would serve revenge—cold and merciless—to those who deserved it. … Present Day The moment I stepped into the house, I was greeted by the sight of several people in the room. I nodded politely and made my way toward a seat. But just as I was about to sit down, my eyes landed on a face I could never forget. Recognition struck me like a blade to the gut. My mood darkened instantly—my fists clenched tight, and the faint smile I had forced onto my lips dissolved into nothingness.