?<strong>Chapter 814:</strong>


    He stood there, but he couldn’t even cry.


    He couldn’t make sense of it.


    Why had his mother treated him that way? Hadn’t she seen how close he hade to dying?


    After his mother’s death, Hector grew lonelier at home.


    His father, consumed by his business, barely noticed him.


    The house was filled with money, but it didn’t matter.


    Hector had everything and yet, nothing at all.


    One afternoon, as the emptiness stretched on, he realized something: money could buy distractions.


    He could buy a pet.


    He bought a kitten and shut it in a dark box.


    He waited curiously for the animal to react, to fight for freedom, or to give up.


    Three dayster, he opened the box to find the kitten dead.


    He didn’t even feel pity.


    Instead, he sneered, disgusted by its weakness.


    He didn’t stop there.


    He tried with other animals—puppies, rabbits, anything that might satisfy his need to see something react.


    But eventually, the thrill of it all faded.


    As he got older, his good looks and his family’s wealth attracted women like moths to a me.


    They all came seeking what they could take from him.


    He found their attention shallow, their motives clear as day, but he couldn’t help but find it all strangely amusing, too.


    Those women imed to love him, but Hector knew they were lying, each driven by selfish ambitions.


    Hector found a twisted pleasure in manipting women, relishing the sight of their joyful expressions before leading them down to the basement—a ce where his dark games began.


    The very women who professed their love for him would soon abandon their pretense, pleading desperately for their freedom.


    But why would he grant it?


    To him, each woman seemed more malicious, more deceitful than thest.


    In his warped reasoning, Hector justified his cruelty as a societal service, a way to prevent these women from inflicting harm on others in the future.


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