Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

Eric Vaughn limped across the street, his legs trembling like they might buckle any moment. Jail had spit him out hours ago, but freedom tasted sour without a dime or a plan.

He'd been hauled off before he could settle the score with Alex—that snake who'd dared lay a hand on Sera, the woman who lit a fire in Eric's chest. To him, that was a sin worth a slow death.

"Three poisons pumping through you, Alex," he muttered, voice low and jagged. "Let's see you crawl out of that."

He shoved his hands toward his pockets, but his fingers snagged on shredded fabric. Both sides hung in tatters. He sighed, letting the frustration slip away—for now. A cab would've been sweet, but his wallet was as hollow as his luck. Two steps toward the bus stop, a black car screeched to a halt, tires clawing the pavement. A woman stepped out, middle-aged and wrapped in designer threads—stuff Eric couldn't name but knew cost more than he'd scrape together in a year.

He bit back the "Watch it, you idiot!" burning on his tongue and flashed a grin he hoped looked charming. "Hey there. Who're you?"

"You're Eric Vaughn?" Her voice was cold, her eyes scraping over him—torn pants, wrinkled shirt, dirt smeared on his knuckles. Disgust flickered across her face, plain as day.

Eric didn't catch it, puffing up like a street rooster. "That's me. And you?"

No idea who she was, but that car screamed money and muscle.

"You don't even know who bailed you out?" she said, her tone sharp enough to slice through bone. Inside, she thanked her lucky stars she'd come herself. If her daughter got tangled with this wreck, she'd never live it down.

"You're with the Dawson?" Eric blinked, a smirk tugging at his lips. They'd sent someone to fetch him in style?

His brain kicked into gear. Alex was probably choking on his own blood by now, but his fortune was still ripe for the taking. Eric wasn't about to let it slip away. With the Dawson backing him, he could snatch it all—clean and legal, too. Two stints in lockup had taught him the value of playing smart.

"Yeah," he said, grin stretching wide. "This is gonna be perfect."

"Glad you think so," she replied, nodding curtly as she fiddled with a gold bracelet. "But here's the deal. To spring you, the Dawson family burned bridges with the Wade family. We called in favors, traded perks—more than a lowlife like you could pay back in ten lifetimes."

Eric's stomach twisted, a chill creeping up his spine. Her words hit like a sucker punch.

She kept going, relentless. "All the debts we owed your master? Settled. Over. From now on, you and him are on your own. The Dawson won't catch you when you fall—so whatever mess you make next, mop it up yourself." Her eyes narrowed to slits, pinning him like a bug.

"B-but—" Eric's voice cracked, panic clawing up his throat. "What about my engagement to your daughter? You can't just cut me loose!"

The woman snorted, a harsh, mocking bark. "Engagement? You're still chasing that fantasy? Look at yourself—find a mirror if you can. You think you're even close to good enough for my daughter? Keep dreaming, kid." Her sneer dripped with venom.

That's when it hit him. This wasn't some Dawson errand girl—this was his almost-mother-in-law. He'd never met his fiancée, but staring at this woman, all sharp edges and elegance, he could imagine her daughter: a knockout, maybe even rivaling Sera. His pulse quickened. Losing that? No way. Not happening.

Sweat slicked his forehead as he flailed his arms. "I don't agree to this! You didn't even ask me before axing it!"

The Dawson were his lifeline, his ticket out of the mud. Without them, he was back to nothing.

"Ask you?" She gaped at him, a laugh slipping out before she smothered it with a tight smile. "Who do you think you are?"

Most guys would've crumbled under that scorn, but Eric wasn't most guys. He was a survivor—scarred, stubborn, built to take the hits. He swallowed the sting, throat raw, and tried again. "Does your daughter even know you're here dumping me?"

"She knows," the woman said, yanking her car door open. "She was so happy she couldn't sleep—practically bouncing at the thought of you being gone." She'd come to see this disaster for herself and sever the tie. Mission accomplished.

"What about the head of ghe Dawson family?" Eric blurted, grasping at straws.

Her hand paused on the door, and she shot him an irritated glance. "This is all the Dawson family's decision—start to finish."

This was his shot. In every story, this was where he'd grin, stand tall, and growl something like, "Give it time—you'll regret tossing me aside!" But she didn't wait. The Range Rover roared to life, peeling out in a cloud of dust that left Eric hacking and spitting on the curb.

"Fine, fine, fine," he snarled, rage simmering in his gut. "These high-and-mighty families are all the same—small-minded snobs blind to what's coming. The Kleinberg, the Wade, now the Dawson—just a pack of clowns."

He glared down the empty road where her taillights faded, his voice dropping to a bitter hiss. "You snub me today, but tomorrow you won't even reach my shadow. You'll come begging, and when you do, I'll have you and your darling daughter groveling at my feet."

He'd caught it—the faint pallor in her cheeks, the slight wince. She was sick, something ugly festering inside her. It'd hit hard soon, and he'd be the only one who could fix it. A grim smile curled his lips.

"And Alex? That creep's probably choking on his last breath. Touch my woman? I'll show you pain."

His grin softened, eyes glazing with a dreamy haze. "Sera, hold on—I'm coming."

He sucked in a breath, steadying himself, and hobbled toward the bus stop. He had no clue where Sera was or which bus would take him there. "Whatever," he muttered. "I'll hop the first one out of this dump."