Evil MC's NTR Harem

And now Ross—arrogant, smug, insufferably calm Ross—was walking in at the eleventh hour to steal the spotlight.

But there was no way around it. Corey glanced around the room, reading the faces.

They were already shifting toward Ross, already moving.

Defeated, he swallowed his pride.

"…Fine," he said quietly. "Okay."

Ross gave a single, satisfied nod. He didn't gloat. He didn't need to.

"Good," he said, stepping forward. "If we had more time, I would've gone with horror. Psychological, surreal, maybe a twist ending. Something that grabs the audience by the throat. But with only a little time left, romance is our best bet. Simple, emotional, intimate."

He let that hang in the air before continuing, his voice smooth and deliberate.

"We're changing the cast. I'll take the male lead. The female lead will be Cara."

That was the spark that lit the fuse.

Corey sat upright, staring at him. "Wait—what?"

Ross turned toward him, unbothered. "You heard me."

"No. I don't agree to that."

Ross finally gave him his full attention, eyes cool and steady.

"Why not? You and Cara barely have anything real between you. The two of you? You're just a love team. A gimmick for the cameras. There's no depth."

"That's not true."

Ross raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it? She refused to do a kissing scene with you during the last shoot. I was there. Everyone was."

The room shifted again—tense, awkward, full of people pretending not to watch but listening to every word.

Corey looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched.

It was true.

Cara had said she wasn't ready. That it was too soon. She hadn't even tried to fake it.

She'd pulled away during the take, apologized, and claimed she needed time.

At the time, Corey had brushed it off, told the others it was just nerves. But it stung.

And now, Ross was digging that knife deeper.

"You two are attracted to each other. Sure. Who wouldn't be?" Ross said, voice like velvet over steel. "Cara's gorgeous. You've got a decent face. That's not love. That's a spark. And sparks burn out fast."

He took a step closer, his tone low, but clear enough for the entire room to hear.

"What I'm about to film—it needs something stronger than sparks. It needs fire. Control. Commitment. And I don't have time for anyone who's afraid to go all in."

He turned his back on Corey, dismissing him without another glance.

"I've already got a script in mind. A story of two people trapped in a lie and will have fast progression. It'll be intimate. Beautiful. All I need is the right partner."

He looked to Cara.

She didn't speak. She didn't hesitate.

She stood up and walked toward him, silent and composed. Ross said something to her.

Instructions about the movie.

Corey's heart sank.

She hadn't even looked back.

Ross gave her a nod and began issuing quiet instructions to his women, who were already moving to prepare costumes, makeup, lights, and sets.

The living room transformed quickly. Furniture was shifted, props were gathered.

A laptop was opened for last-minute script notes. They weren't wasting a second.

The rest of the contestants stood awkwardly on the sidelines, waiting for instructions, still processing how quickly everything had changed.

Corey remained seated, frozen in place. His pride burned. His chest ached.

He wanted to call her back, to say something that would make her change her mind.

But deep down, he knew—it wasn't just about Ross stealing the role.

It was that Cara hadn't resisted.

Without a word.

And Ross?

He hadn't even looked triumphant.

He had expected it.

Because to Ross, this was never a question of if.

Only when.

Ross took command without hesitation.

The moment everyone agreed to follow him, the air in the house shifted.

Gone was the aimless anxiety and half-hearted effort. In its place came a steady, pulsing energy—like something important was finally taking form.

He moved fast, wasting no time. Chairs were rearranged, curtains drawn, soft lighting set just right to create mood and shadows.

The others followed his directions with quiet urgency. No one questioned him now.

Something in the way he spoke made it clear—Ross wasn't just playing around.

He knew what he was doing.

He chose a minimalistic approach—no elaborate sets, no unnecessary fluff.

There was no time for it. Everything had to be focused, precise, and emotionally charged.

He scrapped the old plot entirely.

Gone was the cliché story about lovers reuniting at a class reunion.

In its place was something deeper. Grittier. More human.

A story about a fake relationship built on appearances, cracking under the weight of real emotions neither side had planned for.

It wasn't just about love—it was about confusion, betrayal, pride, and the raw vulnerability of people caught in something they couldn't control.

Ross outlined the new scenes like a true director. Every moment mattered.

Every line had a purpose.

He handed out tasks and assigned roles with clarity.

"You hold the boom mic. You handle lighting. You… background extras, but stay silent."

Then he grabbed the main camera himself—refusing to trust anyone else with the most important part.

"From now on, listen and move on my cue," Ross said.

The room nodded.

And then…

"Action!" Ross barked.

Silence fell instantly.

The camera zoomed in.

Cara sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as they clutched the hem of her dress.

Her shoulders quivered.

She stared at the floor for a few seconds, her chest rising and falling as though she were preparing herself for something.

Then, she snapped.

"Damn you!" she screamed, voice hoarse with anguish.

She wasn't just reciting lines.

She was feeling them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her words came out broken, like they had been trapped inside her for years.

The entire house froze behind the scenes. Nobody moved, nobody blinked.

Even Seth—their original director—stood completely still, watching in disbelief as Cara delivered a performance far beyond anything they'd seen from her before.