Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 420

Chapter 420: Chapter 420 Coat
“What the f… What did you do to get that kind of money, Faith?” Tristan’s voice was a mixture of shock and anger as his eyes locked onto the screen.

His disbelief deepened when he saw the source of the funds—Ross Oakley.

“Did you… Did you suck Ross’s cock or something? Or maybe you let him fuck you! Is that it?” Tristan’s voice rose, his emotions spiraling out of control.

The sight of the stunning $500 million transfer clouded his judgment, pushing his thoughts to the worst possible scenarios.

Faith’s eyes widened, hurt and anger flashing across her face.

“Lower your voice, Tristan, and get out.” Her voice was sharp, trembling with the sting of betrayal.

“I thought you knew me better after all these years, but clearly, I was wrong. Get out!”

Her raised voice was like a slap in the face, a cold splash of reality that made Tristan pause. His anger faltered as guilt crept in.

“Faith, I’m sorry,” he said, his tone softer now. “I didn’t mean to shout or… or doubt you, but—”

Faith cut him off, standing abruptly.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t believe you’d think so little of me.” Tears threatened to spill, but she held them back, refusing to show weakness.

She couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him right now. Without another word, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

“Fuck,” Tristan muttered, running his hands over his face.

“I fucked up.” His anger now turned inward, frustration eating at him.

He knew he had let his emotions get the better of him and hurt the one person he cared about most.

As the silence of the room settled around him, the weight of his mistake hit harder.

All he could do now was figure out how to make it right—if Faith would even let him.

***

The next morning, Tristan woke up groggily, his mind heavy with regret.

The memory of his argument with Faith played on repeat in his head, each word cutting deeper than the last.

He rubbed his face and forced himself out of bed, determined to make things right.

He wandered through the charity house, searching for her, but there was no sign of Faith.

“Where is she?” he asked one of the older kids.

“Miss Faith went out to buy groceries,” the boy replied.

Tristan sighed, nodding absently. He felt a pang of guilt.

She was out there, probably still upset, and here he was, helpless to fix things.

The day dragged on, his usual energy and focus replaced by a dull, gnawing ache in his chest.

That evening, as he wrapped up his work at the construction site, one of his coworkers called out, “Tristan! Let’s hit the bar tonight. It’s Friday—time to let loose and celebrate!”

“Yeah, come on, man,” another chimed in. “It’s been a hell of a week. You need it more than anyone!”

“We already drank last night. I’m tired.” Tristan replied.

“Just tonight, Tristan. It’s Mike’s birthday! The group won’t be complete without our top engineer there to hold it all together,” one of the guys said, half-joking but with a hint of sincerity.

Tristan hesitated, his thoughts still on Faith, but after a moment, he nodded.

“Sure. Why not?” Maybe a night out would clear his head.

Besides, Faith probably needed a little more space to cool off before he apologized again.

The group of engineers headed to a lively bar in the city.

There were over a dozen of them, all part of Ross Oakley’s elite construction team.

The place was buzzing with energy, the music loud, the lights dimmed to a golden glow.

Drinks were ordered, jokes were exchanged, and laughter filled the air.

Soon, the party escalated.

Women began drifting toward their group, a mix of local patrons and hired companions looking to join the festivities.

The men welcomed them eagerly, laughing and flirting without restraint.

Tristan, however, wasn’t in the mood. He sat quietly at the corner of the booth, nursing his drink.

A few women approached him, their smiles inviting, but he brushed them off with polite indifference.

His thoughts were consumed by Faith—her anger, her hurt, and the look in her eyes when she’d told him to get out.

For over an hour, he ignored the chaos around him, staring blankly at his glass.

But then, out of nowhere, a voice broke through the fog in his mind.

“Why are you all alone here by yourself, handsome?”

The voice was soft, sultry, and impossibly sweet.

Tristan barely registered it at first, dismissing it as yet another woman trying to catch his attention.

“Go away,” he muttered, waving her off without looking up.

“Take care of my friends. I don’t need company.”

But then he caught a faint, intoxicating scent—something floral and sweet, yet utterly captivating.

Against his better judgment, he glanced up, and his breath caught in his throat.

Standing before him was the most stunning woman he had ever seen.

Her beauty was almost otherworldly, her dark, glossy hair cascading over her shoulders like silk.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her lips curved into a teasing smile.

Her figure was impossibly perfect, her dress clinging to her curves in a way that made her look like a goddess.

For a moment, Tristan forgot how to speak.

His jaw slackened as he stared at her, his mind struggling to process the sight before him.

“A pity,” the woman said, her smile widening. “I would have loved to get to know a handsome man like you better.”

She turned gracefully, her hips swaying with every step as she began to walk away.

Tristan blinked, snapping out of his daze, only to hear his friends shouting at him.

“What the fuck, man?! Are you just going to let her go?”

“Go after her, dude! You’ll never see a girl like that again in your life!”

“She’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman, Tristan. Don’t blow it!”

Their voices rang in his ears, and for a moment, he hesitated.

His mind screamed at him to stay put, but his body acted on instinct.

Thinking with his cock—and a healthy dose of alcohol—he stood and followed her out the door.

He caught up to her just as she stepped onto the sidewalk, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

“Hey, wait,” he called out, his voice a mix of urgency and apology.

The woman paused and turned to face him, her expression curious.

“I’m sorry,” Tristan said, running a hand through his hair.

“I wasn’t thinking straight back there. I thought you were someone else. Let’s start over. I’m Tristan. What’s your name?”

The woman’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile.

“Brandy,” she said softly, her voice like silk.

Tristan felt his heart race. He didn’t know it yet, but Brandy already knew she had him exactly where she wanted him.