Milo stormed into his room, the door slamming violently against the wall before rebounding shut.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
"Fuck!"
His foot lashed out, kicking the wall hard enough to rattle the framed pictures hanging beside his bed.
Pain shot up his leg, but he barely reacted. His chest rose and fell rapidly, anger still burning beneath his skin.
His phone rang.
The sharp vibration against the bedside table irritated him further. Milo snatched it up without checking the caller ID and dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, fingers tightening around the device.
"This better be good or you can get lost," he snapped. "I'm not in the mood for this nonsense."
A chuckle came from the other end.
"Who made young master Milo mad?" Jack's voice echoed through the speaker.
Milo leaned back slightly, jaw tight.
"Are you going to spill it out or not?"
"Calm, calm down," Jack said quickly. "It hasn't reached murder level yet."
Milo's thumb hovered over the end-call button.
"See, we're hosting a party," Jack continued hurriedly. "Just for young masters. Nothing big. Our circle only. At Devi Restaurant tonight."
"Not coming," Milo said flatly. "I don't have money."
Silence lasted barely a second before laughter burst through the phone.
"Anyone can be broke but the Voss family's second son? That would be a joke."
Milo's expression darkened.
"Do you hear me laughing?" he said coldly. "Don't test me. I said I don't have money then I fucking don't."
He moved the phone away, ready to hang up.
"Wait, wait! My fault, my fault," Jack rushed.
"That's actually why we're calling. Easy money. We're opening an underground fight club… and we know you're into that. Thought we could collaborate. Use your spot."
Milo's eyes narrowed slightly.
A pause.
"I'll meet you at the restaurant."
The call ended immediately after.
He stood, running a hand through his chestnut-brown curls before heading toward the wardrobe.
Milo Voss carried the kind of appearance that drew attention without effort — soft brown fox-like eyes holding a playful spark even when irritated, a straight nose with a slightly rounded tip, heart-shaped red lips resting naturally in a careless line. His lean athletic frame moved with relaxed confidence.
He pulled on a fitted black T-shirt that clung lightly to his shoulders and torso, layered with a loose ash-grey jacket. Dark ripped jeans followed, paired with white designer sneakers. Casual. Expensive without trying.
Sexy without needing to prove it.
Keys spun around his finger as he left the room.
The mansion garage lights flickered on automatically as he entered. Rows of luxury cars reflected against polished flooring.
Milo headed straight for his red sports car.
The engine roared to life.
Moments later, the vehicle shot out of the gates and merged into evening traffic.
Streetlights blinked awake one after another. Vendors pushed carts along the roadside, motorcycle engines buzzed past impatiently, pedestrians crossed between moving vehicles while conversations and laughter filled the humid air.
Inside the car, Milo drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other scrolling lazily through his phone. An earpod rested in his ear, music drowning out the outside world.
A horn blared loudly ahead.
Another.
And another.
Milo barely reacted.
Up ahead, the car in front had stopped suddenly.
A small cat darted across the road.
When Milo finally looked up, the distance had already closed dangerously.
"Shit—"
He jerked the steering wheel sharply, swerving into the next lane to avoid collision.
Gasps rose from nearby pedestrians.
The cat froze under the headlights.
Then—
Someone jumped into the road.
A young man lunged forward, scooping the animal into his arms and turning his body instinctively to shield it.
Impact.
The sound echoed violently.
The body lifted into the air before crashing several feet away onto the asphalt groaning in pain the impact not too bad as Milo had quickly stopped the car.
Traffic halted.
People shouted.
Inside the car, Milo stared forward, shock locking his movements.
"…Fucking idiot," he muttered, rubbing his forehead harshly. "What does he think he is? A hero? I could have avoided the cat if he had not jumped in "
He pushed the door open and stepped out, ignoring the growing murmurs around him.
The young man sat on the ground, breathing unevenly. One hand still clutched the trembling cat while the other hung unnaturally at his side.
Milo approached quickly.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Should I take you to the hospital?"
He reached out—
The boy slapped his hand away.
"Are you deaf," the guy said sharply, voice controlled despite the pain, "or do you think you own the road?"
His gaze shifted briefly, noticing the earpod still in Milo's ear. A scoff followed.
"Driving while listening to music. No wonder you couldn't hear anything you are planning a hit and run ."
Milo's jaw tightened.
"You jumped into the middle of the road," he shot back. "Is your life worth less than a cat? And did you see me driving away? Stop making a scene. You're injured — let me take you to the hospital."
"I don't need help from a self-centered brat," the guy replied.
Ignoring Milo, he struggled to stand, limping toward the roadside. Carefully, he placed the cat safely beyond the walkway before flagging down a taxi.
The door shut.
The taxi drove off.
Milo exhaled sharply, frustration boiling again as whispers rose around him — people pointing, phones subtly lifted, quiet gossip spreading.
"Ah, fuck it."
He kicked his tire once before climbing back into the car.
Engine revving, Milo pulled into traffic—
and followed the taxi toward the hospital.
Reaching the largest central hospital in the city, the boy walked straight toward the reception desk despite his uneven steps.
Bright white lights reflected against polished marble floors.
Nurses moved quickly between counters, stretchers rolled past distant corridors, monitors beeped rhythmically somewhere deeper inside the emergency wing.
The receptionist's eyes widened immediately at his condition.
"Are you alright? What happened to you? Is it an accident? Please fill this form— I'll call the doctor."
The boy nodded faintly as the form was pushed toward him.
Before he could touch it, Milo appeared beside him, casually draping an arm over his shoulder as if they were longtime friends.
"No need," Milo said smoothly. "He's with me. Open a VIP room. I'll handle the paperwork. We were racing when the accident happened. No need for police involvement."
The nurse hesitated, cheeks flushing slightly under Milo's easy smile as Milo look was enough too make male and female fall.
"Who the fuck are you calling your friend?" the boy snapped.
Milo ignored him completely and guided him toward the elevator before further questions could follow.
The elevator doors slid shut.
The boy let out a short chuckle.
"You're trying to avoid punishment," he said. "But not on my watch."
"Oh please," Milo muttered. "If you want compensation, just name your price."
The boy only stared at him.
A silent stare contest.
The elevator opened.
Two doctors were already waiting outside, rushing forward immediately and escorting the injured boy toward a private ward.
Milo's brows lifted slightly.
He hadn't called anyone.
Yet he followed anyway.
Minutes later, Milo waited outside the room, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone.
Footsteps approached.
Two police officers stopped in front of him.
"Sir, we received a report of reckless driving while wearing headphones. Please come with us."
Milo closed his eyes briefly before laughing under his breath.
"That fool actually called the police… impressive."
He stood up, stretching lightly.
"I should really check my zodiac sign today," he muttered. "Too much bad luck."
Without resistance, he followed them out.
The ride to the police station passed in silence.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as officers moved between desks stacked with paperwork.
Milo sat opposite one of them, relaxed despite the situation.
"So," he asked casually, "how do I bail myself?"
"The other party is suing you," the officer replied . "You may post bail, but dropping the case requires meeting the complainant. That person… has influence and is not willing to drop it next time follow the traffic rules"
Milo rolled his eyes.
"I'm a Voss. Do you really think bail is difficult?"
The officer hesitated, visibly conflicted.
If he hadn't seen the opposing lawyer earlier, this case would already be gone. But the background behind the injured party stood equal—perhaps even higher—than the Voss family.
"We can process bail," the officer said finally. "But cancelling the lawsuit requires negotiation."
Milo rested his forehead against his hand.
"Stress…"
He pulled out his phone.
Calling Philip was not an option.
So he called Ria.
After some time, heels clicked sharply against the station floor.
Heads turned instinctively.
Ria entered.
She wore a soft powder-blue knit cardigan fitted elegantly along her frame, delicate pearl-like buttons running neatly down the center. The neckline dipped into a gentle V-shape, revealing her slender collarbone and the fine chain of a minimalist silver necklace resting lightly against her skin.
The cardigan sleeves ended just past her wrists, giving her movements a refined softness.
Her skirt matched perfectly — a high-waisted pleated mini skirt in the same pastel blue tone, swaying lightly with every step she took.
Her long hair flowed smoothly down to her waist, styled half-up with a neat ribbon tie, the remaining strands falling in glossy waves behind her back.
On her feet were blue ribbon-strap heels, the soft straps wrapping elegantly around her ankles before tying into small bows, exposing her slender legs with graceful precision.
A structured mini top-handle handbag in matching pale blue rested in her hand, gold hardware catching the station lights each time she moved.
Radiant.
Unreal beauty the type that makes any seductress or beauty goddess fall for her.
Completely out of place inside a police station.
She sat calmly, signing documents and completing Milo's bail without hesitation.
Then she turned toward him.
"Write the IOU. The police will sign it as a witness."
Milo scoffed.
"You're seriously making me owe you money? My allowance got cancelled because of you."
He still took the paper and signed.
Ria rolled her eyes.
"Money is money. Siblings are siblings. I didn't tell you to drive with earphones at five in the evening and anyway you are not the only one I told to write an iou Natasha also wrote now with yours I can make her pay if my twin can pay she a best friend stood no chance."
The officer signed the form.
Milo nodded slowly.
"Fair enough. At least you know when to stop that leech from draining you."
He stood.
"Now to make that goody two-shoes drop the case."
They exited the station together.
"Drive me back to the hospital. My car's still there too ."
He slipped into the back seat before she could refuse.
The driver started the engine immediately.
City lights streaked past the windows as traffic flowed steadily through the evening streets.
Milo's phone rang again, the vibration echoing softly inside the quiet moving car.
Streetlights slid across the tinted windows in long golden streaks as evening traffic thickened ahead. Motorcycles weaved between lanes, vendors pushed carts along sidewalks, and distant horns blended into the restless rhythm of the city.
Milo glanced at the screen before answering.
"Young masters you are still not here yet," Jake asked.
"Don't call me I'm not coming again I'm having bad luck," Milo said as he rolled his eyes, leaning deeper into the leather seat.
Jake paused on the other end.
"But we have already arranged everything if you don't come— hello hello hello—"
The call ended.
Milo tossed the phone beside him.
Across the seat, Ria crossed her legs slightly, her bracelet giving a faint metallic chime with the movement.
"Tsk with attitude like this how do you have fri—" Ria asked.
"The same attitude you have and you still have friends," Milo shot back immediately.
Ria's brows lifted faintly.
"Fun to call them friends they are more like lackey or supporter not true friend that means you also don't have ture friends only those after your money so you calling me stupid for giving out money to them is it not the same as shooting yourself in the feet," Ria fired back.
Milo rolled his eyes, tilting his head lazily against the seat.
"I never said they are my friends now do I unlike you they feed on you while I feed on them and make them thank me for that it clearly two different things," Milo said.
Silence settled afterward.
Outside, headlights flashed past the windshield while pedestrians crossed hurriedly before changing traffic lights. The hum of the engine filled the space between them.
Ria's eyes narrowed slightly before she turned back toward the road ahead, her expression smoothing out.
I thought he was a dumb rich boy, Ria asked Dumball within her mind.
Dumball appeared instantly, now in the form of a palm-sized teddy bear seated comfortably on her handbag, tiny legs swinging as though entertained.
He is the FL real twin why do you think he would be dumb, Dumball replied, rolling his eyes. He is very dangerous.
The one who supported the FL from the shadows in the future. He would be very very powerful. Even now he alone is enough to make the country shake with his hacking skills and among the siblings he is the one who darkend quickly.
Understanding flickered across Ria's gaze.
I see… that means I have to treat him right. Then a villainess should know when to redraw or fire back, Ria thought.
She glanced back at Milo and smiled.
Milo didn't hesitate.
He raised his hand and showed her the middle finger.
Ria immediately returned it — double.
Then she calmly faced forward again as if nothing had happened.
So much for being nicer, Dumball scoffed inside her mind.
The driver maintained a perfectly professional expression, eyes fixed firmly on the road, deliberately ignoring the silent war happening behind him between the two siblings who looked moments away from physically fighting.
The car continued toward the hospital under the glow of city lights, tension lingering thickly in the air despite the casual silence.