Spoiled By The Ruthless Esports Captain
Kaitlynn's mother forced her to entertain Jorden, a cold, overbearing professional esports captain who she only remembered as an annoying, mud-eating brat.
She despised him in real life, saving all her admiration for "Hex," the god-tier player in her favorite MMO who constantly spoiled her with thousand-dollar rare items.
Trapped in Jorden's luxury car during a forced errand, Kaitlynn couldn't stand his arrogant attitude anymore.
She proudly bragged about Hex, claiming her online master's mechanics were vastly superior to any so-called professional player.
"He's the absolute ceiling," she declared defensively. "He's way better than you."
Jorden just smirked, his dark eyes dismissing her entirely.
"Sounds like a nerd living in his mom's basement."
Kaitlynn was furious, ready to scream at him, until his work phone suddenly rang.
Right in front of her, he casually commanded his team using an extremely rare, high-tier strategy exclusive to her game.
Kaitlynn's mind completely short-circuited.
Why would the captain of North America's biggest esports organization know Aethelgard's secret meta?
And why did his commanding, ruthless voice suddenly sound exactly like the low, comforting chuckle that echoed in her headset every night?
As Jorden's gaze dropped to the rare assassin class keychain resting on her lap, a wicked, knowing smile flashed across his face.
The untouchable esports tyrant had just realized his rebellious real-life enemy was his deeply pampered in-game student, and her peaceful double life was about to end.
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Chapter 3
Kaitlynn threw the comforter off her legs.
Her bare feet hit the cold carpet.
She marched across the room and grabbed the brass doorknob, yanking the door open.
Her mother, Martha, stood in the hallway.
She was wearing a floral apron, her right hand gripping a spatula covered in white flour.
"You stayed up playing that stupid game again, didn't you?" Martha snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You've wasted the entire morning."
Kaitlynn looked away, staring at a spot on the hallway wallpaper.
She chewed on the inside of her lower lip.
"I was finishing a group project." she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
Martha let out a harsh scoff.
She turned around, her slippers slapping against the hardwood floor as she headed for the stairs.
"Ten minutes. Downstairs for brunch. Don't make me come back up here. And we have a lot to do this afternoon—the guest room needs to be cleaned out."
Kaitlynn blew out a heavy breath.
She walked into her attached bathroom and turned on the faucet.
She splashed freezing water onto her face, the shock making her gasp.
She grabbed a towel, dried her skin roughly, and pulled a massive, faded UCLA hoodie over her head.
She slipped on a pair of gym shorts and shoved her feet into her slides.
She dragged herself down the wooden staircase.
The smell of frying bacon and bitter coffee hit her nose before she even reached the bottom step.
Her father, Arthur, was sitting at the kitchen island.
He was staring at his iPad, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Kaitlynn pulled out a tall metal stool and sat down.
She reached across the marble counter, grabbed a piece of burnt toast, and took a massive bite.
Martha walked over and slammed a plate of scrambled eggs onto the counter in front of Kaitlynn.
"We are having a very important guest this weekend," Martha announced, her tone leaving no room for debate.
Kaitlynn chewed the dry toast, swallowing hard.
"Who?" she asked. "Is the HOA coming to fine us for the grass again?"
Martha glared at her.
"Aunt Eleanor's son. Jorden. He's coming to Seattle to stay for a while."
Kaitlynn froze.
Her brain scrambled, digging through years of buried memories.
An image of a seven-year-old boy with mud smeared across his cheeks and a missing front tooth flashed in her mind.
She curled her upper lip in disgust.
"Why is he coming here?" she asked, her voice tight. "Is he going to steal my Legos again?"
Arthur lowered his iPad.
"Jorden is a professional esports player now," Arthur said, his voice calm. "He just flew back from a tournament in Korea."
Kaitlynn's hand stopped halfway to her mouth.
The word 'esports' made the muscles in her neck tighten.
"I don't understand how playing video games is a real job," Martha complained, wiping down the stove. "And they pay him for it."
Kaitlynn slammed her toast down on the plate.
"Esports is a real athletic competition, Mom," she argued, her voice rising. "It takes insane reflexes and talent."
Hex's impossible shield-block from last night flashed behind her eyes.
That was a real god.
Martha tapped the spatula against the counter, a sharp, warning sound.
"I don't care what it is. You will be polite to him this weekend. No attitude. And I need you to clean out the guest room this afternoon. Change the sheets. Put out fresh towels."
Kaitlynn rolled her eyes, her shoulders slumping.
A guy who ate mud was probably sitting on the bench of some amateur, second-rate team.
"What team does he even play for?" Kaitlynn asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Arthur pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at the Wikipedia page on his screen.
"He is the captain of... SG."
Kaitlynn's breath caught in her throat.
Her stomach tightened. "SG? The massive esports org?" she blurted out, her gamer instincts overriding her annoyance for a split second. "Don't they only play games like Valorant and League of Legends?" Even if they didn't play her game, she knew the name.
SG. The biggest, wealthiest esports organization in North America.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her face to remain blank.
It didn't matter. Even if he was the captain of SG, he was nothing compared to Hex.
Kaitlynn groaned, dropping her head onto her arms on the counter. "Fine, fine," she muttered. "But he better not steal my stuff like he used to."
She shoved the rest of the toast into her mouth, grabbed her coffee mug, and slid off the stool.
She practically ran out of the kitchen, her slides smacking against the stairs.
She slammed her bedroom door shut.
She threw herself face-first onto her mattress.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, her thumbs flying across the screen as she opened Discord.
She opened Hex's chat, ready to complain about the absolute nightmare that was about to ruin her life. Some annoying guy from her childhood was showing up this weekend, and she was stuck cleaning out the guest room.
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7.7
Not only was I drugged, blinded and assaulted. I was deceived into carrying a baby by a stranger I never knew. Then he appeared and took my child away.
I was sent to a militia by the father of my child. I thought I was rescued but I was recruited to be a weapon for killing. Who was manipulating me, I didn't know. The answers were far from what I knew.
Forced to blend into the world that I could never believe I would be to, a place where brutality reigned, kill or be killed was the only language. I have survived but he has to pay for everything he did to me, because I believed every phase of my life was set by him and him alone. Have I really survived?
Who would have thought, he existed twice in the same world? Do I really know who I should take revenge on? Him or the person I would sacrifice everything for?
Was my mother the one who orchestrated everything? What kind of pawn am I?
7.6
Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever.
9.5
Carin survived a horrific escape pod crash only to wake up in the mud of an uncharted, barbaric alien planet.
Before she could even process the pain of her fractured ribs, she was captured by towering, wolf-headed warriors who stripped her of her protective gear and threw her into a filthy slave pen.
Because she lacked animal ears and a tail, the clan's arrogant elites mocked her as a repulsive deformity, beating her with spears and forcing her to shovel toxic dung in the deadly Blade Beast pens.
The other female laborers violently bullied her and stole her only scraps of food, leaving her starving and defenseless in a brutal society where the strong preyed on the weak.
"If you're unclaimed at the mating ceremony, they force you into the breeding program, and you'll be nothing but a vessel until you die."
She was terrified, exhausted, and completely unequipped to survive this nightmare, but after a miraculous farming system suddenly awakened in her mind, she knew she desperately needed a powerful shield to protect her secret from the greedy tribe.
During the chaotic mating ceremony, amidst the cruel laughter of the entire clan, she stepped directly in front of Brannon—a terrifying, sterile, mutant outcast despised by everyone—and boldly claimed the deadly warrior as her mate.
9.7
Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex.
She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating.
Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury.
"You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out.
After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust.
In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead?
Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.
7.6
My baby daughter died in the cold hospital, and I agreed to donate her heart to save another pup. I brought her ashes home in a small wooden box, seeking comfort from my mate.
But when I returned to the packhouse, I found a massive celebration. My Alpha mate wasn't away on patrol; he was throwing a grand Naming Ceremony for his sister's newborn. He didn't even know our daughter was dead.
"Give Lyra the gift. Now."
He impatiently demanded I hand over the box in my arms. When his sister's son tried to snatch it, I pushed him away to protect my baby's ashes. His sister immediately screamed, accusing me of trying to hurt her children out of jealousy.
Without asking a single question, my mate grabbed my wrist, ready to smash the box to teach me a lesson. To save my daughter's remains, I had to drop to the floor, bare my neck in ultimate submission, and lie that it was just my late father's relics.
He was disgusted by my tears. Later, when I tried to jump off the balcony to end my pain, he pulled me back—not out of love, but because my suicide would ruin his perfect party. He locked me in my room and ordered the maids to force me into a bright red dress for the evening feast.
Looking at the red silk that mocked my bleeding heart, my despair finally died, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred. I tucked a white funeral flower into my hair and walked out the door. This time, I was going to turn their joyous celebration into a living hell.
9.4
I was the daughter of a defeated Alpha, kneeling as a broken war spoil before the ruthless Lycan King, Kaelen Varg.
Through a twisted misunderstanding with a spiked drink, the tyrant lost control. But when he attacked me, an impossible spark ignited between us. His inner wolf roared in triumph, recognizing me as his fated Mate, and he claimed me in the heat of the night.
But the next morning, he woke up with another woman's name on his lips. Realizing he had surrendered to a lowly tribute, his eyes filled with absolute, violent loathing. To erase the humiliation of our bond, he shoved me to the floor like garbage.
"Take her to the Barrens. Leave her there. Make sure she never comes back."
His Beta dragged me to a sealed, sun-baked wasteland crawling with mutated beasts. They clamped silver cuffs onto my wrists, searing my flesh and suppressing my wolf, leaving me to die a slow, agonizing death.
I lay in the scorching dirt, the silver burning into my bones. I couldn't understand how a fated Mate could be so merciless. Why was my life worth less than his twisted pride? Why did I have to be fed to monsters just so he could keep his throne spotless?
The cold rage in my core solidified into a diamond-hard resolve. I forced my bleeding body to stand in the desolate wasteland. I will not die here. I will survive, and I will live to see his kingdom burn.