Chapter 2

I arrived at my boyfriend's house with him, carrying a New Year's gift box in hand.

The moment I saw his father, my mind went blank.

Because I realized—he was the man on the train whose bed I had crawled into by mistake.

I couldn't believe the world could serve up such a ludicrous coincidence. I stood there, thunderstruck, frozen in place.

I even forgot to greet him. My boyfriend had to nudge me.

His father extended his hand for a handshake. Steeling myself, I reached out too.

His rough palm wrapped around my small hand, giving it a brief, friendly squeeze. I flushed bright red.

The moment I remembered the disaster I'd caused the night before, I wished I could move to another planet.

Luckily, I noticed nothing unusual in his expression—clearly, he hadn't recognized me.

On the train, I'd only thought he was handsome, but I hadn't really seen his face. Now, looking closely, my boyfriend didn't even come close. Because his father was breathtakingly, stunningly handsome.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist, his impeccably tailored suit exuded elegance and refinement.

Though over forty, he must be very disciplined—his figure was still in excellent shape. Every inch of him radiated the charm and poise of a mature man.

As I stared, my thoughts began to wander somewhere they shouldn't.

I mentally slapped myself. What a horny girl I was, daring to think such things. This was my boyfriend's father, after all.

Dinner came soon enough. My boyfriend and I sat together, with his father across from us.

At the table, I hunched over my food like a timid quail, pretending to be calm on the surface while inwardly writhing in agony.

I was terrified he might remember something.

Thankfully, he only asked me basic questions—whether my parents were still alive, what they did for work.

I breathed a sigh of relief. But then, he pushed a glass of milk and a plate of sausage toward me.

"You must like these," he said. "Go ahead and enjoy them this time."

Hmm? What did that mean?

For a moment, the atmosphere turned awkward.

No way. Had he already recognized me?

I cautiously lifted my gaze and found him looking back at me, the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smile.

Terrified, I dropped my head and tried to brainwash myself: It was probably just a normal expression. Besides, it had been so dark back then—he definitely hadn't seen clearly.

But the very next second, I was proven wrong.

Under the tablecloth, I felt a foot idly brushing against my bare ankle.

I tugged my skirt down. His foot simply lifted it and continued its mischief.

I looked up and found his predatory gaze fixed on me without the slightest hint of restraint.

I shot him a warning look with my eyes. But instead of backing off, he grew bolder, catching the hem of my skirt and tugging—slowly, deliberately, with increasing force.

I was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. With each tug, the strap slipped a little further down.

The curve of my chest trembled with the movement of the fabric.

I was so tense I thought the dress might fall off at any moment.

Fortunately, the prank stopped just before the point of no return.

The moment I exhaled in relief, his foot went straight for the core.

A jolt shot through my entire body. I instinctively clamped my legs together, and because I was so sensitive, a soft whimper escaped my lips.

My boyfriend noticed and looked at me with concern.

Face burning, I stammered, "N-nothing."

My boyfriend's father's foot kept stirring in the darkness, unleashing an unbearable wave of itchiness.

I gripped the table leg, trying my hardest to endure, but my body trembled uncontrollably—until I completely lost it.

I scrambled to my feet, muttered, "Bathroom," and fled in humiliation.

Inside the bathroom, I peeled off my damp underwear. Just as I was about to wash it, the door swung open.

I turned in terror—and saw my boyfriend's father.

Before I could react, my feet left the floor. He lifted me and set me on the sink counter.

Bracing his hands on either side of me, he stared straight into my eyes.

His gaze made me uneasy.

"Mr. Parker… what… what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" He leaned closer, a roguish smirk playing on his lips. "Weren't you seducing me?"

I shook my head. "N-No."

"No?" He echoed my words. "You did it on purpose on the train too, didn't you?"

So he had recognized me all along.

"No…" I started to explain, but his lips were already hovering over mine.

Terrified, I pushed against him. "We can't. I'm Max's girlfriend. I might even be your future daughter-in-law."

"I know," he said, his voice low and husky. "But in our family, there's a tradition. Before marriage, the bride must pass the father-in-law's trial."

My eyes widened in horror. My voice cracked with tears. "Mr. Parker, please, really, we can't. Please let me go…"

But he ignored my pleas. Ruthlessly, he pinned me against the mirror, holding me in place.

Then, with his knee, he forcibly pushed my legs apart...