The Villains Must Win
Chapter 233: No Second Chances 33

Chapter 233: No Second Chances 33

Lina finally understood why the woman behind the glass—the once-beautiful, broken shell of a girl—had looked at Fredrich with such terror in her eyes.

Why she had whispered for help like every breath was a plea for freedom.

Because now Lina had seen it, lived it. Fredrich’s love wasn’t gentle.

It was consuming.

It was possessiveness dressed in elegance. A gilded cage disguised as romance. The kind of love that locked doors while claiming to open hearts.

And no ordinary girl could survive that kind of affection for long. Most would crumble under the constant monitoring, the soft-spoken commands that felt more like chains than comforts, the way Fredrich touched you like you were porcelain—fragile, delicate, breakable—but expected you to never, ever try to stand on your own.

But luckily, Lina wasn’t just any girl.

She hadn’t survived the other twisted worlds by being ordinary. She wasn’t here to fall in love—not really. She was here to win. To finish the storyline. To clear the route. And most of all—to survive.

This was just another world. Another game. And in games, there was always a trick, always a way to beat the system.

She had been waiting. Patiently. Biding her time.

She played the good girl so well, even Fredrich had lowered his guard. But deep inside, Lina was counting every second, every move, every silent warning in his words.

She was just waiting for the right character to appear—for the story to shift in her favor.

And it would.

Because before Fredrich ever had the chance to confiscate her phone, before he had tightened the walls around her, Lina had done the unthinkable. Something bold.

She had sent a message.

A single, encrypted message, launched through a backdoor app she had disguised as a horoscope widget. It didn’t say much, just enough:

"Christian. Greece. Villa. Jones."

It was risky. Stupid, maybe. But it was her only move.

She knew Christian wasn’t the hero—far from it. He was dangerous, entitled, and unhinged in his own way. But he was powerful. Tech-savvy. A control freak who couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else touching what he thought belonged to him.

And that flaw of his—his obsession—might just be Lina’s ticket into winning.

Fredrich might’ve trapped her here, might’ve surrounded her with silks and roses and surveillance cameras, but Christian?

Christian would burn the place down just to spite another man who thought he could claim her.

That was the game Lina was playing now.

She wasn’t waiting for a prince.

She was summoning the devil she already knew . . . because maybe, just maybe, the devil you know is better than the one who builds you a cage and calls it love.

She could already imagine it—the moment Christian received the message.

He’d be furious. Jealous. Obsessive. He would stop at nothing to find her. To "rescue" her. To reclaim her again.

And for once, Lina didn’t care about his motives. Let him think it was love. Let him believe she missed him.

She just needed the chaos.

Because with Christian’s arrival would come a shift in power. A breach in Fredrich’s perfect control. Whatever the outcome, she would make sure that she win either way.

And in that chaos . . . she would make her move.

She wasn’t naive enough to think it would be easy. Christian and Fredrich in the same room? It would be war. Destructive, dangerous, violent. But war meant distraction.

And distraction meant freedom.

So for now, she smiled at Fredrich over candlelit dinners. Wore the dresses he picked. Let him think she was his.

But every night, she counted the stars from her window and whispered to herself:

"Just a little longer."

Because she knew the storm was coming.

And when it did, she’d be ready.

Fredrich wasn’t the perverted type. In fact, throughout Lina’s stay, he hadn’t so much as touched her inappropriately—not even when he had every opportunity.

No lingering glances to her body, no demands for intimacy, no crossing the line.

If anything, it was unsettling in its own way. It wasn’t restraint born of decency—it was something else. Something darker.

Lina had begun to realize it was all part of his obsession. He didn’t want her like a man craved a woman. He wanted her like a collector desired a priceless artifact.

To be displayed. Preserved. Unblemished. Untouched.

Like a porcelain doll encased in glass—beautiful, perfect, and completely his.

It was the first time Lina had encountered a man like him. Possessive, controlling, but in a way that almost felt clinical. Cold. He liked his women quiet. Composed. Wrapped in silk and silence.

And still, she couldn’t help but wonder—how had Fredrich become this?

What had twisted inside him to equate love with control, care with isolation, protection with possession?

Was it heartbreak? Betrayal? Or simply a soul that had never been taught the difference between loving someone and owning them?

Whatever it was, Lina knew one thing for sure:

She had to tread carefully. Because this wasn’t romance.

It was obsession wearing a gentleman’s smile.

====

The day had started like any other in Fredrich’s world—flawless, orchestrated, and expensive.

Lina sat beside him in the backseat of a matte-black luxury car, the scent of leather and subtle cologne blending into the rhythm of the city beyond the windows.

Fredrich looked breathtaking in his crisp navy suit, tailored to perfection, with his hand resting casually on her thigh—a silent reminder that she belonged to him, at least for now.

She played the part as always—smiling faintly, nodding to his quiet commands, dressed in the silk slip he picked out for her.

The driver maneuvered through the coastal road toward a private restaurant overlooking the sea.

Fredrich’s dates were always like this: secluded, extravagant, controlling.

"You’ll like the wine tonight," he said without looking at her. "I made sure they chilled it just how you prefer it."

Lina murmured a soft "thank you," though her mind was elsewhere. Counting minutes. Watching shadows. Still waiting.

Then it happened.

Out of nowhere—SLAM.

A jolt, a scream of tires, metal grinding against metal in a terrible, earth-shattering scream.

The car jerked violently. Glass shattered.