[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-evil-mc-s-ntr-harem":3,"chapter-evil-mc-s-ntr-harem-evil-mc-s-ntr-harem-chapter-596":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Evil MC's NTR Harem",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1832045,2438,"Chapter 596 - 596 Misty","evil-mc-s-ntr-harem-chapter-596",596,"\u003Cp>Ross, of course, did as he promised. A week later, he arranged the meeting between the estranged couple—Ashley and Cyril.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was quiet when they arrived, a subdued tension hanging in the air like a storm that had already passed but left everything broken in its wake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cyril looked good at first glance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was still dressed in designer clothes, his shoes polished, his watch expensive, and his hair carefully styled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From afar, he might've looked like the same man who used to walk into boardrooms with confidence and command respect without speaking a word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But up close, it was clear that something was missing. The light in his eyes had dulled. His once-proud shoulders slumped slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was stubble on his face, several days old, and it didn't suit him—he had always been meticulous, clean-cut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, he looked like a man weighed down by the weight of choices he couldn't take back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Despite still having access to his millions, it was painfully obvious: Cyril had lost something far more valuable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had lost his woman. He had lost Ashley.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And in the corner of the room, like a silent ghost pulling strings from the shadows, Ross sat—calm, detached, almost unreadable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was, in many ways, the reason all of this had happened. If fate were a writer, it clearly had a wicked sense of irony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley was the first to speak. She didn't shout. She didn't cry. She simply asked a single question.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just one word. One syllable. But it was laced with everything she felt—anger, confusion, pain, betrayal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cyril's lips parted, and he tried to speak. The truth was right there, teetering on the edge of his tongue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But no sound came out. He tried again, a little more desperately, but something within him refused to let the words form.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His mouth moved, but his voice failed him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Panicking, he grabbed a piece of paper from the table and a pen, trying to write down the truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His hand shook.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pen barely touched the paper. He then reached for his phone, trying to type it out in a message—but his fingers felt heavy, almost paralyzed, like they belonged to someone else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His mind screamed at his body to move, to act, to do something, but nothing worked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It became painfully clear—Cyril was no longer in full control of himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, with what little strength he had left, he forced out the only words he was seemingly allowed to say.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'm sorry, Ashley. It was all my fault.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And with that, he broke. His voice cracked, and he began to cry—not with the quiet, dignified tears of a proud man, but the raw, messy sobs of someone who had finally accepted the depth of his failure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He covered his face with his hands, ashamed, his body trembling with grief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley didn't move. She didn't say a word. She simply watched him, her expression unreadable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cyril, in the throes of his regret, could only replay the moment in his mind when his daughter had introduced Ross to the family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, Ross had been charming, polite—but ordinary. Cyril hadn't paid him much attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd dismissed him as a phase, a fleeting crush, someone who didn't belong in their world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But oh, how wrong he'd been.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If only he had seen what Ross truly was—what he was capable of.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If only he had treated him with the respect he apparently deserved. Maybe things would've turned out differently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe Ashley wouldn't be sitting across from him now, her heart broken and her trust shattered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at Ross now, Cyril felt something strange rise in his chest. It wasn't just guilt—it was awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fear. Helpless admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he had known then what he knew now, he might have dropped to his knees and addressed Ross like he was some kind of god.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like Ross was his daddy or something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it was too late. The past couldn't be bought—not even with all the money in the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And no apology, no wealth, no desperate plea could undo what had already been done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cyril was a man with everything… and yet, somehow, he'd ended up with nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That's all you can say? That you're sorry?\" Ashley's voice cracked. \"What the fuck were you thinking, Cyril?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the first time she had ever cursed at him in all their years together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once, she might have thought herself too composed, too restrained for that kind of emotional outburst.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now she felt like everything she'd believed about their marriage, about the man she married, had crumbled beneath her feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cyril recoiled like he'd been struck. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, were glassy and unfocused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened his mouth, desperation flickering in his expression as he tried to respond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I… ammmm…\" he stammered, the sound escaping his lips weak and broken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was pathetic. And heartbreaking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This wasn't the Cyril she had known. The Cyril she married had been a man who commanded attention, who negotiated business deals with sharp intellect and disarming charm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now he stood in front of her like a prisoner locked inside his own body, unable to speak, unable to explain, unable to fight for what was left of their relationship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why are you stuttering?\" Ashley's voice softened for a brief second, confusion overtaking her fury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This… this isn't like you at all, Cyril.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She took a step closer, eyes searching his face for some kind of answer, some glimmer of recognition—of the man he used to be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But there was nothing there. Just a hollow, broken shell who looked like her husband but couldn't even lift his voice to defend himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Say something. Please,\" she whispered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the silence stretched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And with each second that passed, the anger returned, stronger than before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She shook her head slowly, tears threatening to fall but never quite spilling over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is useless,\" she muttered bitterly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that, she turned and walked out, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. She didn't look back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no point. The man she had loved was gone—and what remained couldn't even tell her why.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time she arrived home, she was drained. Her heart felt heavy, her limbs tired.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The day had taken more out of her than she expected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had gone there wanting closure—something, anything to help her make sense of everything that had fallen apart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she left with more questions than answers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And a growing suspicion that something far darker was at play.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She stepped into the apartment and paused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The aroma hit her immediately—warm, rich, and inviting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A mix of sautéed garlic, rosemary, butter, and something slightly sweet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It smelled like comfort. Like safety. Like home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She blinked, almost in disbelief. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that very moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ross was in the kitchen, as effortlessly put together as ever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an apron that looked like it belonged on the cover of some upscale cooking magazine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He moved with practiced ease, flipping something in a pan while humming to himself like he didn't have a care in the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he noticed her, he turned with that familiar, confident smile that never seemed to waver.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"So,\" he said, spoon in hand, \"how did the meeting go?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley just stood there for a moment, staring at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything about him was so controlled, so calm—so opposite from the broken mess she had just left behind. It was disorienting. Infuriating. Comforting. All at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ross tilted his head, watching her with curious amusement. \"That bad, huh?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley finally moved, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She didn't answer, not right away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She felt like she was still carrying the weight of that meeting on her shoulders, and now she was standing in the middle of a world that seemed completely untouched by it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ross returned to the stove, casually stirring a simmering sauce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Well,\" he continued, \"I hope you didn't expect too much. Cyril's been… unstable for a while now.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley narrowed her eyes. \"What did you do to him?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ross chuckled lightly, not even bothering to pretend he didn't know what she meant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I didn't do anything. He did it to himself. All I ever did was give him the opportunity to show who he really was.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You broke him.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No,\" Ross said, turning toward her now, his eyes cool and sharp. \"He was already broken. I just stopped pretending otherwise.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was something terrifying about the way Ross said it—calm, measured, like he was simply stating a fact. And maybe he was. Maybe that's what made it worse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ashley looked away, her throat tightening. She didn't want to admit it, but part of her felt… safer here. With Ross. Even after everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And that scared her more than anything else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was most interesting, though, was how the night ended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the meal was finished and the plates were cleared, a different kind of hunger would soon be satisfied.\u003C\u002Fp>",1522,"2026-06-09T06:18:57.662Z",1,"novelbin.me","cc505c0385a0df20a230e5a8dfb9c41fcd8dc877c9481745a40e8f0f81ac3722","evil-mc-s-ntr-harem-chapter-597","evil-mc-s-ntr-harem-chapter-595",1212,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fevil-mc-s-ntr-harem-cover.jpg"]