Queen of Chaos: My Three Billionaire Husbands

When the 'Good Fertility System' found me, I was clutching that diagnosis report.

Terminal brain cancer, three months left.

The system said, Go sleep with three infertile madmen, get pregnant with their children, and you'll live.

I looked at the three names on the list.

Julian, the CEO in New York who treated women like dirt.

Ethan, who built his security empire on weapons, a ruthless CEO with no mercy.

And Leo, the thrill-seeking, extreme racer.

These three were not only infertile but also sworn enemies, the kind who'd love to dance on each other's graves.

I laughed.

I was going to die anyway, so why not go out with a bang?

If I were bold enough, I'd have these infertile tycoons taking paternity leave.

I tore the diagnosis report to shreds and threw it into the trash.

In these three months, I wouldn't just sleep with them; I'd make each of them believe the child could only be his.

I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor for ten minutes.

The doctor's words were blunt: the cancer cells had spread to a difficult location, and the success rate for surgery was less than one percent.

He advised me to eat well, spend my savings, and live without regrets.

I glanced at my mobile banking balance: four digits.

That amount wasn't even enough to buy a decent burial plot.

Just as I was debating whether to jump off the roof or just grab a bun, that voice in my head chimed in.

"Host Alice Miller, the Genetic Completion Plan has been activated."

"Your cancer is caused by a genetic defect. Only by having children with three top-tier genetic donors can your body be rebuilt."

I ignored it, got up, and walked out.

The system sounded a little anxious. "Aren't you afraid to die?"

I pressed the elevator's down arrow. "Yes, but I'm more afraid of a messy death. You want me to approach those three? I'd rather just sign that diagnosis report and donate my body."

Who were those three?

Ethan Blackwood. He had more blood on his hands than anyone I'd ever known. Even though he'd cleaned up his act and become a security company owner in recent years, everyone in New York knew about the madness lurking beneath.

Julian Thorne, a notorious hypocrite, calculating to the core. Women who got close to him either went crazy or ended up broken.

And Leo Maxwell? Don't even get me started. Apart from racing, he was constantly flirting with death. No sane person would dare provoke him.

The system was silent for two seconds. "Get pregnant with one, and your life countdown pauses. Give birth, and you'll receive ten billion dollars in child support, plus your illness will be cured."

The elevator doors opened.

My steps faltered. I hit the 'close' button again, then 'top floor'.

I asked, "Ten billion? After taxes?"

System. "...After taxes."

I wasn't afraid to die anymore.

I was saved.

I immediately changed direction, went back to the doctor's office, and got some pain medication.

These three months would be painful, but I had to hold on.

The system uploaded the information into my brain.

These three men were not only tough to handle but also had severe physiological or psychological defects that made them infertile.

Ethan suffered from severe bipolar disorder. When he snapped, anyone nearby was in danger; no woman could get close to him.

Julian had severe OCD and psychological blocks, making him allergic to women. He couldn't even stand being touched.

Leo's body was simply burned out, his sperm count nearly zero.

The system said, "Because of your special constitution, you possess natural fertility. As long as you 'do the deed' successfully, it's a 100% success rate."

"But you must get all three."

"Miss one, and the gene chain will be incomplete; you'll still die."

I looked at Ethan's schedule in the data.

Tonight, he was at his private estate in the West End.

I felt the bottle of freshly prescribed painkillers in my pocket and swallowed two pills.

"System, get me an identity."

"What kind?"

"Ethan's psychological therapist."

I remembered reading that Ethan's bipolar disorder had flared up recently, and he was offering a high salary for a fearless psychologist.

The previous ones had been carried in and then literally thrown out.

But I had to go. For those ten billion, and for decades more of this wretched life.

I tidied my hair, looking at my reflection in the elevator mirror.

My face, though pale from illness, perfectly fit that delicate, fragile look.

Men, especially the crazy ones, always seemed to be drawn to things that looked easy to break.

I walked out of the hospital entrance and hailed a cab.

"To the Blackwood Estate in the West End."

The driver gave me a look like I was crazy but floored the accelerator.

On the way, the system warned me. "Ethan is in an extremely manic state right now. You might be strangled to death the moment you step in."

I closed my eyes, resting. "As long as I don't die, he has to provide me with genes."

At the estate gates, a bodyguard stopped the car.

I rolled down the window and handed him the top-tier psychologist's license that the system had forged for me.

The bodyguard glanced at it, a hint of pity in his eyes. "Go on in. Take the first left."

The car couldn't go in, so I had to walk.

The estate was eerily quiet; not even a bird chirped.

Just as I reached the entrance of the villa's main hall, a loud crash came from inside.

It sounded like something heavy smashing against a wall.

Followed by a man's furious roar. "Get out! All of you, get out!"

Several servants scrambled out, their faces bruised.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door.

The room was a wreck, shards of porcelain and glass littered the floor.

A man sat on the sofa, clutching a bottle of liquor, three buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a muscular chest.

His head was bowed, his face obscured, but the raw aggression emanating from him was enough to make anyone's knees weak from a distance.

This was Ethan.

I said nothing, clicking my heels on the floor, avoiding the debris, and walking towards him step by step.

The sound of my heels echoed loudly in the silent hall.

Ethan suddenly looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot, glinting with the savage ferocity of a caged beast.

"If you don't want to die, get out."

His voice was hoarse, thick with a metallic tang.

I didn't stop, continuing until I stood half a meter in front of him.

"Mr. Blackwood, I'm your new doctor."

The words had barely left my lips when Ethan suddenly erupted.

He moved with astonishing speed. I had no time to react before an iron-like hand gripped my neck, squeezing tightly.

I was lifted and slammed against the back of the sofa.

Suffocation instantly overwhelmed me.

The system's red alert blared in my mind. "Warning! Life value decreasing! Warning!"

Ethan stared at me, his grip tightening, eyes full of murderous intent. "Who let you in? Huh?"

I didn't struggle.

Struggling would only make me die faster.

I painstakingly raised my hand, not to pry his fingers away, but to gently caress the back of his hand.

My fingertips traced the bulging veins on his skin.

The system had said I had a special constitution, and my scent was the only tranquilizer for him.

Indeed, Ethan's grip stiffened slightly.

He seemed to smell something, his nostrils flaring, as he leaned closer to my neck.

That killing rage receded slightly, replaced by a mixture of confusion and craving.

I seized the opportunity, using my last ounce of strength, and leaned in to kiss his lips.

Forget it, I had to administer the "medicine" first.

Ethan's lips were scorching, tasting of strong liquor.

The moment I kissed him, his entire body visibly stiffened.

The hand clamped around my neck didn't loosen; instead, it tightened for an instant, almost sending me to my grave.

I desperately pushed myself into his arms, trying to magnify that so-called "body scent buff" through physical contact.

This wasn't healing; this was pulling teeth from a tiger's mouth.

The system counted down in my head. "Life value remaining: 24 hours... 23 hours..."

After about five seconds, just as I thought I'd die from lack of oxygen in that kiss, Ethan finally let go.

Fresh air rushed into my lungs, and I coughed violently, tears streaming from my eyes involuntarily.

Before I could recover, Ethan suddenly gripped the back of my head, reversing our positions.

This kiss was devoid of any tenderness, filled with raw predation and release.

He seemed to be confirming something, or perhaps seeking a remedy that could calm him.

I was pinned against the sofa, unable to move.

It wasn't until I tasted blood in my mouth that he abruptly pulled away.

Ethan gasped for breath, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. Some of the madness had receded, leaving behind a deep intensity I couldn't decipher.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, and his thumb forcefully grazed my swollen lips.

I endured the searing pain in my throat, trying to keep my voice professional and calm. "Alice, your therapist."

"Therapist?" Ethan sneered. "Previous therapists just gave me pills. You're certainly unique, feeding me from your lips right away."

I looked at him, my gaze unwavering. "If it's medicine, as long as it works, the method doesn't matter."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, seemingly assessing my threat level.

A moment later, he suddenly stood up, looking down at me. "Effective? Let's see how long the effects last."

With that, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me towards the second floor.

His strength was terrifying. I stumbled along, my wrist feeling like it would break.

"Where are you taking me?"

Ethan ignored me, kicked open a door on the second floor, and flung me inside.

The room contained only a massive bed, the curtains tightly drawn, making it oppressively dark.

With a click, the door was locked from the outside.

Ethan stood by the door and began unbuckling his belt.

The sound of the metal buckle clinking was jarring in the darkness.

My heart tightened, and I instinctively took a step back. "Mr. Blackwood, is this part of the therapy?"

Ethan didn't stop. He pulled his belt off, tossed it on the floor, and advanced towards me, step by step.

"Whether it's therapy depends on your cooperation."

He cornered me against the bed, leaning one hand beside my head, an overwhelming pressure engulfing me.

"That kiss just now made me feel... good." He lowered his head, his nose almost touching my face. "But I'm not full yet."

The system screamed in my head. "Host! Opportunity! Quick! Take him down!"

I mentally cursed.

This wasn't an opportunity; it was a death trap.

While Ethan's current state wasn't manic, he was clearly more dangerous.

He intended to use me as his personal human tranquilizer.

I took a deep breath and placed my hand against his chest. "Mr. Blackwood, therapy requires a gradual approach."

"I don't have patience." Ethan grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head. "I want it now."

I stopped talking.

Because his hand had already found its way under my clothes.

If I couldn't resist, I might as well enjoy it and complete the mission.

I closed my eyes, no longer fighting, and instead slightly raised my chin, exposing my vulnerable neck.

This submissive posture seemed to please him.

Ethan chuckled softly, and his kiss descended.

That night, I profoundly understood what it meant to be a "mad dog."

He was utterly unrestrained, as if unleashing years of pent-up emotions.

Every touch carried a brutal intensity, as if he wanted to devour me.

I was in agony, covered in cold sweat, yet I had to grit my teeth and cooperate, even feigning responsiveness at critical moments.

For that one seed, I truly put my life on the line.

I don't know how much time passed, but just before dawn, Ethan finally stopped.

He lay on me, his breathing heavy, seemingly asleep.

My body felt like it had been run over by a truck; I couldn't even lift a finger.

The system chimed. "Congratulations, Host. Fertility value +30%. Ethan's gene acquisition successful."

I sighed in relief, tears almost falling.

At least this pounding wasn't in vain.

I nudged Ethan, but he didn't move, sleeping deeply.

This was a good chance to escape.

Enduring the pain, I slowly, bit by bit, slid out from under him.

I haphazardly pulled on the clothes I picked up from the floor and glanced at the man on the bed.

Even in sleep, Ethan's brows were furrowed, as if even sleep brought him no peace.

I felt no lingering attachment, turning towards the door.

The door was locked, but I was prepared.

I pulled a bobby pin from my bag. Picking locks was a skill I'd learned for emergencies.

After a few fumbles, the lock clicked open.

I tiptoed out of the room and descended the stairs.

The villa was silent; the servants had likely all fled in fright.

I made my way out of the estate without any trouble, and only when I was in the pre-booked ride-share did I let myself collapse into the backseat.

I checked my phone. It was five in the morning.

First hurdle cleared.

But I couldn't just leave like this.

If Ethan woke up and found me gone, he'd surely tear the city apart looking for me.

I needed to cause him some trouble, to keep him occupied for a while.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency number.

"Hello, 911? I want to report an illegal detention and attempted sexual assault at the Blackwood Estate in the West End."

After hanging up, I removed my SIM card, broke it, and tossed it out the window.

Ethan, you're welcome for this parting gift.

The car drove into the city.

I asked the driver to stop outside a 24-hour pharmacy.

I bought emergency contraceptives.

Not to take them, of course, but for show.

I flushed the pills down the drain, putting the empty box into my bag.

Then I found a public restroom, changed out of my torn clothes, washed my face, and put on light makeup.

My reflection showed a pale face with faint dark circles under my eyes, making me look even more pitiful.

Perfect. The man I was going to see next would fall for this.

I walked out of the restroom and saw a black Bentley parked by the curb.

The license plate was familiar. Julian's car.

How was he here?

The system suddenly spoke. "Julian has been monitoring Ethan. His people followed you the moment you left Ethan's estate."

I see.

This just got even more interesting.

I straightened my skirt, pretending not to notice the car, and walked unsteadily forward.

Just as I passed the car, the window rolled down.

A cool, low voice drifted out. "Miss Miller, if you don't mind, I can give you a ride."

I stopped, turning to look.

Julian sat in the backseat, his stoic face devoid of any expression.

But the look in his eyes, as he watched me, held a hint of amusement.

It was the look of a hunter spotting wounded prey.

I got into Julian's car.

The car was filled with a faint sandalwood scent, just like the man himself: cool and reserved.

Julian didn't look at me, as if the woman beside him, fresh from his rival's bed, was mere air.

"Where to?" he asked.

I leaned back against the seat, trying my best not to look too disheveled, but the discomfort in my body was impossible to hide.

"Just drop me off at any hotel," I said, my voice a little hoarse.

Julian turned his head, his gaze lingering for a second on the bruise on my neck, the one Ethan had left last night.

He chuckled softly, a touch of mockery in his tone. "Ethan has a heavy hand."

I didn't respond, just pulled my collar higher.

"Miss Miller, you're a smart woman." Julian retracted his gaze, his voice flat. "A madman like Ethan is enough for one time. Keep playing with him, and you'll lose your life."

I scoffed inwardly.

Playing?

In their eyes, I was probably just a plaything, risking my life for money.

"Since you know where I came from, Mr. Thorne, are you really letting me in your car?" I turned to him, deliberately needling him. "Aren't you afraid I might 'snap' too?"

Julian looked at me, his eyes deep. "I'm not interested in madmen, but I am very interested in someone who can make Ethan snap."

The meaning behind his words was clear.

He wanted to use me to get to Ethan.

Perfect, that suited me just fine.

I was already struggling to find a reason to get close to him, so since he delivered himself to my doorstep, he shouldn't blame me for taking advantage.

"What do you want me to do, Mr. Thorne?" I asked directly.

Julian pulled a file from the glove compartment and handed it to me.

"Be my personal assistant, and my eyes and ears." His tone was casual. "I want to know all of Ethan's recent movements. In exchange, I can offer you protection and money."

I took the file and glanced at it; it was essentially a binding contract.

But right now, what I needed most was money and protection.

The police might hold Ethan off for a while, but that madman would surely be out soon.

Hiding with Julian was the safest option.

"Deal." I closed the file. "But I have one condition."

"Speak."

"I want a month's salary in advance, cash."

Julian raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my bluntness. "Alright."

The car stopped outside a five-star hotel.

Julian handed me a room key card. "Penthouse suite. Go clean yourself up, and come see me when you're presentable."

He said "clean yourself up" with a clear note of disdain in his voice.

A germaphobe, indeed.

I took the room card, said nothing, and got out of the car.

Once in the room, I locked the door, then rushed into the bathroom.

The moment the hot water hit my skin, I felt alive again.

My body was covered in bruises, thanks to that monster Ethan.

I cursed him as I washed, while also plotting how to handle Julian.

This guy was immune to conventional tactics, and he was "allergic" to women, so normal approaches wouldn't work.

The system's data said that Julian was actually a pseudo-ascetic.

His repressed desires were stronger than anyone else's; he just hid them too well.

After showering, I ordered room service, which delivered a clean set of clothes and the cash I'd requested.

A full hundred thousand dollars.

I counted it twice, feeling much better.

Money brought a sense of security.

The next day, I reported to Julian's company.

If I was going to be a "spy," I had to play the part convincingly.

Julian didn't shortchange me; he gave me a position as a presidential assistant, which essentially meant keeping me under his watchful eye.

But I knew he didn't trust me.

My office computer, even my phone, was surely bugged.

That afternoon, I deliberately took a call in the office.

It was an insurance telemarketer, but I acted as if I were reporting to Ethan.

"Yes, he's at the office... Right, no plans tonight... Okay, I understand, I'll keep an eye on things."

After hanging up, I could feel the red light of the camera in the corner of the office blink once.

That evening, Julian called me to his villa.

It was a sprawling estate nestled on a hillside, filled with books everywhere.

The moment I stepped inside, I was hit by the strong scent of sandalwood.

Julian sat in the tea room, brewing tea, dressed in a white linen loungewear, looking even more ethereal.

"Come here." He poured a cup of tea and pushed it across from him.

I walked over and sat down, picking up the cup and taking a sip.

"I hear you contacted Ethan today?" he asked without looking up.

I put down the teacup, forcing a wry smile. "Mr. Thorne, since you're already listening in, why bother asking?"

Julian looked up at me. "You're quite upfront."

"How else can I survive?" I looked at him. "Ethan has leverage over me. If I don't report something, he'll kill me."

"What leverage?"

I bit my lip, said nothing, but then turned around and lifted the back of my top.

There, a vivid red spider lily tattoo was inked on my lower back.

I'd gotten it at a small tattoo parlor near the hotel yesterday, to cover a hickey Ethan had left. That spot was too intimate; if Julian saw it, he'd definitely be suspicious.

"What is this?" Julian frowned.

"A mark Ethan left on me," I lied without batting an eye. "He said as long as this flower remains, I can only be his."

Julian's eyes instantly turned cold.

A man with such strong possessive tendencies would despise anything belonging to someone else encroaching on his territory.

Even if I was just a pawn to him, I could only be his pawn.

"Get it removed," he said icily.

"Can't be removed." I lowered my top and turned around. "Not unless I peel off the skin."

Julian stared at me for a moment, then suddenly stood up and walked to me.

He reached out, and through my clothes, pressed his hand against the spot of the tattoo.

His fingers were icy cold, yet they felt like an electric current.

"Then we'll cover it."

After saying that, he suddenly tore at my clothes.

The sound of fabric ripping echoed harshly in the quiet tea room.

A large portion of my back was exposed to the air.

Julian looked at the glaring red spider lily, a flicker of disgust in his eyes, but more so, a provoked possessiveness.

"Stay tonight," he said, his voice low. "Help me meditate."

My heart leaped with joy.

Opportunity.

Meditate?

What kind of sane man keeps a woman overnight to meditate?

I nodded obediently. "Alright."

Julian's room was in the deepest part of the villa.

I knelt on a cushion, holding a brush, pretending to transcribe.

Julian sat beside me, eyes closed, meditating.

Only our breathing filled the room.

The atmosphere was so oppressive it made one want to scream.

But I knew this was exactly what Julian wanted.

He was restraining himself, enduring.

After transcribing for a while, I deliberately let my hand tremble, and ink splattered onto my skirt.

"Oh dear," I gasped softly.

Julian opened his eyes, looking at me with some displeasure. "What happened?"

"I got ink on it." I looked at him with an innocent expression. "Mr. Thorne, could I borrow some clothes to change into?"

Julian glanced at me, his eyes scrutinizing.

But he still stood up. "Wait here."

He turned and left.

I watched his retreating back, a faint smile playing on my lips.

When he returned, he held a loose, white shirt.

It was his shirt.

I took it but didn't go to the restroom. Instead, I started unbuttoning my skirt right in front of him.

Julian froze.

"What are you doing?" His voice held a hint of panic.

"Changing clothes, of course," I said with a look that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world.

What kind of twisted logic was that? But I was betting his mind was already in disarray.

As I moved, my skirt slipped down, revealing the black lace lingerie I had carefully prepared underneath.

In the dim light, the stark contrast of black and white was incredibly impactful.

Julian's breathing hitched instantly.

His usually cool eyes finally showed the desire I wanted to see.

"Alice, do you know where you are?" His voice was hoarse, like a warning, yet also a plea.

I stood barefoot on the cold floor, stepping towards him, one by one.

Until I stood before him, I reached out and hooked my fingers around his sleeve.

"I know," I whispered, leaning close to his ear.

Snap.

Julian's tightly strung nerve finally broke.

He suddenly reached out, gripped my waist, and pressed me to the floor.

The air in the room was so thin it was suffocating.

Julian's usual aloof, ascetic demeanor shattered completely. At this moment, he was even crazier than Ethan.

But his madness was a repressed explosion, carrying a destructive despair.

As he moved, he murmured to me, his voice deep and trembling, sending shivers down my spine.

This man was truly a pervert to the core.

I gritted my teeth and endured, silently counting the time in my head.

The system's fertility buff should have taken effect by now.

After an unknown period, Julian finally stopped.

He was utterly spent, collapsing beside me, his eyes vacant as he stared at the ceiling.

I was exhausted too, covered in sweat, and that white shirt was long since torn beyond repair.

I nudged him. "Mr. Thorne?"

Julian didn't move. After a long moment, he turned to look at me.

His eyes held an incredibly complex mix of emotions.

There was regret, disgust, and a trace of infatuation he himself was unwilling to admit.

"Get out," he rasped, his voice utterly hoarse.

I wasn't angry; instead, I smiled.

Telling me to get out at such a moment meant his heart was in turmoil.

"Alright," I scrambled off the floor, picking up my torn clothes and wrapping them around myself as best I could. "Then I won't disturb your 'purification' anymore, Mr. Thorne."

I stumbled out of the room.

The night wind outside hit me, and I suddenly felt disgustingly sticky.

Back in my hotel room, I took a shower and put on the clean clothes Julian had previously arranged for me.

This time, I didn't linger.

Julian's current state was dangerous; once he fully came to his senses, he might try to silence me to preserve his "moral compass."

I had to run.

But I couldn't just run without leaving a trace.

I pulled out my phone and sent Julian a SnapChat message.

"Mr. Thorne, what happened tonight will remain my secret. But I need hush money. Five hundred thousand. Transfer it to this card."

After sending the message, I immediately blocked him.

This was me testing his bottom line.

If he transferred the money, it meant he wanted to keep things quiet.

If he didn't, or even sent people to catch me, it meant he intended to eliminate me.

Ten minutes later, my phone vibrated.

A bank deposit notification: five hundred thousand dollars.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

It seemed he still cared about his reputation.

With this five hundred thousand, plus the previous hundred thousand, I was much more financially comfortable.

I left Julian's villa that very night.

For the next two days, I hid in an inconspicuous motel.

The system notified me that the second seed had been planted.

Only one left.

Leo.

This guy was a race car driver, a complete thrill-seeker.

But he was different from the first two; they had psychological issues, while Leo was purely chasing adrenaline.

To handle him, I had to be even crazier than he was.

I checked Leo's schedule.

This weekend, there was an underground race on the winding mountain road.

Leo was both the bookie and a racer.

I used fifty thousand of the money to buy a used, modified motorcycle and a tight-fitting leather racing suit.

On Saturday night, I rode my bike up the mountain.

The winding mountain road was brightly lit, filled with luxury cars and attractive women, the roar of engines deafening.

Leo leaned against his red Ferrari, a cigarette between his fingers, chatting and laughing with a few people.

He had silver hair and a row of earrings, looking rather unconventional, but his face was undeniably handsome and flamboyant.

Wearing my helmet, I rode straight towards him and performed an emergency stop.

The tires shrieked, and exhaust fumes billowed all over him.

Leo coughed a couple of times, his smile instantly gone.

"Who's the idiot? Trying to get yourself killed?" he cursed, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground.

I took off my helmet and shook my hair.

A chorus of whistles erupted from the crowd.

Leo saw my face, paused, then narrowed his eyes. "Never seen you before. New around here?"

I dismounted, walked up to him, and looked him straight in the eye. "I heard if you beat you, you can ask for anything?"

Leo laughed as if he'd heard a joke, and the crowd egged him on.

"Big talk, huh?" Leo took a step closer, looking down at me. "If you beat me, you can certainly make a demand, but can you afford the stakes if you lose?"

"If I lose, I'll give you my life," I said, my face devoid of emotion.

The entire crowd instantly fell silent.

The amusement in Leo's eyes faded, replaced by the madness of someone whose interest had been piqued.

"My life?" He reached out and tilted my chin up. "What's your life worth? But... if you want to play, I'll play."

"If you lose," his finger slid from my chin to my collarbone, "tonight, you belong to me."

My heart tightened, but I didn't show any fear. "Deal."

The race rules were simple: from the mountaintop to the bottom and back. First one to return wins.

This mountain road had countless twists and turns, with sheer cliffs on the side and no guardrails.

One mistake meant a fiery crash and certain death.

I straddled my motorcycle and put on my helmet.

Leo also slid into his Ferrari.

With a signal, both vehicles shot forward like arrows from a bow.

The wind roared in my ears, and the scenery blurred past.

Leo's driving skills were indeed impressive; his turns were terrifyingly precise.

But I wasn't bad either.

After all, to save my life, the system had temporarily loaded a "Racing God" skill pack for me. Though it only lasted an hour, it was enough.

On a series of hairpin turns, I leaned low, hugging the inside line, and overtook him.

In my rearview mirror, Leo's car clung to my tail.

I could sense his excitement, as he started honking wildly and even tried to cut me off several times.

This madman was truly playing with his life.

Just on the last bend, an accident occurred.

There was an oil slick on the road. My wheel spun, and I, along with the bike, skidded out.

I rolled several times on the ground, finally stopping at the edge of the cliff, half my body suspended in mid-air.

Below was a pitch-black abyss.

I was so scared my heart almost stopped.

Just then, a screech of brakes sounded.

Leo's car stopped a few meters away.

He leaped out, rushed over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back from the cliff edge.

We both fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

Leo was on top of me, his eyes shining with a terrifying intensity.

"Damn it, are you really trying to die?" he cursed, but his voice was full of excitement.

I looked at him, my heart still pounding wildly.

This was the "bridge effect."

In such a life-and-death moment, a person's defenses are at their weakest, and hormones are at their most active.

I grabbed his collar and kissed him.

"You wanted my life? Take it."

Leo froze for a second, then cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss.

Right there, in the desolate wilderness, beside a cliff, two people who had just cheated death ignited a fire.

As Leo flattened the passenger seat, he was still muttering curses. "I've never met a woman as crazy as you in my life."

I thought to myself, you haven't seen anything yet.

To survive, I could be even crazier.

The confined space of the car was stifling, filled with the scent of leather and Leo's strong aroma, a mix of tobacco and gasoline.

This man was a piston, his energy as fast and fierce as his car's speed.

The car rocked violently; I even worried if this multi-million dollar Ferrari would fall apart under his assault.

"Scream," Leo bit my ear, his voice rough. "Weren't you screaming plenty at the cliff's edge?"

I rolled my eyes; that was out of fright.

But for the sake of the mission, I still let out a few cooperative moans.

Leo seemed satisfied, and his actions became even more unrestrained.

The system appropriately broadcasted in my mind. "Third gene acquisition in progress... 50%... 80%..."

I looked at the pitch-black night sky outside the window, with only one thought: it's finally going to end.

These past few days had been pure hell.

First the mad dog, then the hypocrite, and finally this daredevil.

My body had reached its limit, sustained only by sheer willpower.

After an unknown amount of time, Leo finally stopped with a low growl.

System. "Congratulations, Host. All three genes collected, gene fusion program initiated."

In that instant, I felt a warm current surge in my lower abdomen. The constant, nagging ache seemed to lessen considerably.

It really worked.

Leo lay on me like a sated tomcat, idly kissing my neck.

"Hey, what's your name?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I pushed him away and sat up, tidying my clothes.

"Of course it matters." Leo sat up straight and lit a cigarette. "You're the first woman who dared to overtake me on the track and keep up with me in bed. How about being my co-driver?"

I scoffed inwardly.

Co-driver?

To play with your life?

I buttoned up my shirt and pushed open the car door. "No interest."

"Not enough money?" Leo reached out, trying to pull me back. "Name your price."

"It's not about money." I looked back at him, my gaze cold. "I don't play with losers."

Leo was amused. "Loser? If it weren't for that oil slick, you'd have lost."

"Lost is lost." I jumped out of the car, uprighting my slightly deformed motorcycle nearby. "A bet's a bet. Tonight, consider it your overnight fee."

With that, I got on the motorcycle, started the engine, twisted the throttle, and sped away.

In the rearview mirror, Leo stood by his car, the cigarette tip flickering, but he didn't follow.

I knew this hurdle was also cleared.

Back in the city, I found a place to get rid of the motorcycle and checked into an inconspicuous hotel.

Next was the waiting game.

Waiting for the pregnancy test results, waiting for this absurd "collecting mission" to finally conclude.

Three days later, I bought a bunch of pregnancy tests.

Seeing the clear two lines, I let out a long breath.

Mission accomplished.

But the real trouble was just beginning.

None of these three men were easy to deal with.

Ethan was surely still looking for that "psychologist." Julian had probably figured things out by now. As for Leo, that guy was the type who could turn the world upside down if he didn't get an explanation.

Once they found out I'd provoked all three of them simultaneously and was pregnant...

That image was too beautiful, I dared not imagine it.

I had to disappear.

And disappear completely, so they'd give up looking for me.

A dead person is never found.

I called out to the system. "Help me plan a fake death."

System. "Alright. How about a yacht explosion? The kind where there's no trace of a body?"

"Deal."

I used the money I'd saved to rent a small yacht and booked a time for it to go out to sea on a Saturday.

Then, I started writing "suicide notes."

Three of them.

To Ethan: "Mr. Blackwood, thank you for showing me the light in the darkness, but I am too tainted for you. If there's a next life, I hope to meet you in the sunshine."

To Julian: "Mr. Thorne, that night was the most beautiful memory of my life, but I know it was a desecration. I'm leaving, don't mourn me."

To Leo: "Beating you was the most exhilarating thing I've ever done. Don't look for me, I'm in the wind, forever free."

I scheduled these three letters to be sent automatically, half an hour after the yacht explosion.

On that day, the weather was beautiful.

I sailed the yacht out to sea alone.

Of course, I wasn't foolish enough to stay on board.

The system gave me an "invisibility bug."

Before the yacht reached the designated explosion point in international waters, I had already put on a diving suit and quietly slipped into a passing freighter's lifeboat.

This freighter was bound for another country.

Time ticked by.

In the distance, a massive explosion suddenly rocked the sea.

Flames soared, and thick smoke billowed.

The rented yacht instantly disintegrated into fragments.

I hid in the shadows, watching the fireball, my heart utterly calm.

Alice was dead.

From today on, I was new.

Half an hour later, my phone indicated that the three emails had been successfully sent.

I imagined the expressions on the three men's faces when they received the letters.

Ethan would probably crush his phone, then frantically search the sea for my body.

Julian might sit silently in his room all night.

Leo would probably drive his car wildly along the coastal road until his fuel tank ran empty.

But none of that mattered to me anymore.

I touched my still-flat belly.

"Babies, Mommy's taking you to a new life."

The freighter sounded its horn, slowly sailing toward the other side of the ocean.

I threw away my SIM card and everything that could prove my identity.

Goodbye, New York.

Goodbye, infertile tycoons.