Jannah kept her spine pressed rigidly against the passenger door, her hand still protective over the wet sweater pocket containing the hidden Somnus Root. Dorrent sat beside her, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw locked in a hard, frozen line. His final, toxic question about whether her body got wet for her imaginary boyfriend’s touch still seemed to vibrate through the vehicle, unanswered.

The doors automatically rose with a synchronized mechanical click, allowing the crisp, midnight air to rush inside. Jannah stepped out onto the gravel, her waterlogged boots squelching heavily as her shivering frame tried to find its balance. She intended to dart straight toward the rear servant entrance to conceal her disheveled state and begin processing the parasitic herb, but the moment she reached the threshold of the grand foyer, her path was completely blocked.

Standing beneath the brilliant, crystalline glare of the vaulted chandelier was Guron Grefo. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

He stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trench coat, his silver-streaked hair catching the light. His sharp, calculating eyes immediately locked onto the two of them as they entered, taking in Jannah’s soaked, mud-streaked clothing and Dorrent’s damp silk shirt and dark expression.

"Well, well," Guron murmured, his deep voice carrying a cold. He stepped forward, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the polished marble. "I have been exceptionally busy with the high-district merger audits over the last few days, and I admit I have neglected my duties regarding this household. But I see the two of you are already thoroughly acquainted."

Jannah’s breath hitched in her throat. She instinctively took a half-step backward, her fingers twitching against her skirt as her primitive omega instincts flared in defensive panic against the older Alpha’s dominant frequency.

Guron stopped three paces away, his gaze flicking between them with a slow, analytical precision. "Three days ago, I left you in the master suite to conduct the initialization of your treatment. I want an absolute update on the progress, Dorrent. How did the session on that day conclude? Have the hands of this lower-district herbalist produced the structural results I am paying for?"

A thick, volatile static settled over the foyer. Jannah’s mind raced through a hundred catastrophic scenarios. If Dorrent revealed the truth—if he told his father that his S-tier biology had achieved an explosive, massive erection that had ultimately shattered the leather restraints, or worse, that he had forcefully taken her virginity that night—the entire framework of her revenge would collapse. Guron was an uncompromising strategist. He had brought Jannah here strictly as a medical tool; his ultimate corporate goal was to fully restore his son’s physical potency so that Dorrent could successfully mate with Lady Joanne, cementing an unassailable financial alliance between Gammar Tech and the high-district elite. If Guron discovered that his son’s manhood was now exclusively, pathologically obsessed with a low-born maid, he would eliminate Jannah from the equation without a single millisecond of hesitation.

Dorrent stepped forward, his frame shifting smoothly to place his shoulder slightly in front of Jannah’s path, partially shielding her dripping figure from his father’s piercing gaze.

A dark, unspoken understanding passed between Dorrent and Jannah in that split second. Dorrent knew the catastrophic corporate fallout that would occur if his father realized his S-tier nexus was permanently locked onto a peasant girl from the slums instead of the supermodel. He had to protect his access to her body; he had to maintain the administrative lie to keep her trapped under his roof where he could continue to consume her.

"The session three days ago showed preliminary neural activity, Father, but it was far from a completed success," Dorrent lied smoothly, his deep voice dropping into a flat, business-like monotone that betrayed absolutely none of the raging madness currently burning in his veins. He crossed his arms over his chest, his corporate mask locking into place perfectly. "The hand treatment she administered managed to rouse the blood flow initially, but it was highly volatile. I did not manage to arrive at my climax. My member grew entirely limp and unresponsive after a short."

Guron’s eyebrows knitted together, a sharp flash of displeasure cutting through his eyes. "Limp? After all that display?"

"Yes," Dorrent continued, his eyes cold and unblinking as he stared directly into his father’s face. "The damage from the past five years cannot be overwritten by a single manual diagnosis. However, because her specific herbal poultices and manual techniques showed a baseline progression that no high-district specialist has ever achieved, I have formally authorized her to oversee my daily treatment regimen. She has shown the capacity to awaken the nerve endings. Therefore, I have decided to willingly be a good, cooperative patient to her moving forward. You do not need to worry about me mistreating or dismissing her from my sight again, Father. I will cooperate with her methods to the absolute maximum."

Jannah’s jaw tightened as she listened to his smooth, deceitful performance. A good patient, she thought, a wave of bitter disgust washing over her tongue. He was weaponizing the medical contract to ensure she remained legally bound to his private quarters, turning his predatory obsession into an authorized clinical routine.

Guron remained silent for a long, agonizing beat, his sharp gaze weighing his son’s words against the heavy, tense atmosphere vibrating between the two young people. Finally, the tension in the patriarch’s shoulders dissolved, and a wide, triumphant grin slowly spread across his face once more.

"Magnificent," Guron chuckled, clapping his hand against Dorrent’s shoulder. "If you are willing to cooperate, then the battle is half-won. I do not care about the temporary delays, so long as the ultimate fire is restored. You are not to miss a single day of treatment from her, Dorrent. Do you hear me? Absolute, maximum cooperation."

Guron then turned his cold, calculating gaze back onto Jannah, his eyes narrowing into thin, demanding slits as he delivered his new administrative mandate.

"And as for you, herbalist," Guron commanded, his tone dropping into a sharp, icy register that left absolutely zero room for negotiation. "Since you are managing the biological recovery of the CEO of Gammar Tech, your word must be documented. From this day forward, you are required to write a detailed, daily medical report on his progress. Every touch, every poultice applied, every fractional measurement of his erection, and every neurological reaction must be recorded in writing and submitted directly to my terminal every evening before the house locks down. Do not disappoint me, child."

Jannah felt a cold sweat break out along the nape of her neck, her hands clenching into tight, white knots against the fabric of her wet skirt. A daily progress report. She was being ordered to document the very interactions she was desperately trying to avoid—forced to put into writing the volatile, terrifying data of the monster who she’s enslaved her flesh.

"I understand, Alpha Grefo," Jannah whispered, her voice a thin, freezing horizontal line that carried the full weight of her hidden resolution as she stared back at him. "I will write the daily reports... and I will make sure the progress is exactly what this family deserves."