My Accidental Husband is a Billionaire！ - Chapter 812

After the battle, the beautiful senior sister shyly raised her face in front of you and slowly closed her eyes. At this time, you…

Eh? The choice this time was too simple. Of course, it was four.

Take a look at the cover. Now take a look at the synopsis. Now take a look at the cover once again. Did you manage to see anything else outside of two big plots on it already? Then let me tell you this - if I'm willing to use this great cover for this novel, then surely as heck I am confident in the first chapter making you read more!

Erwin Warner is a material-dominant alpha with a very unsteady financial background. Though he has the face of an angel, his personality is the polar opposite. He can even kill a person if there is enough money paid for that.Leo Snow is an exceptionally beautiful dominant omega. Even the gods envy his unparalleled beauty from the heavens. He has a very strong personality and is very picky about his partner. He can be as deadly as his face when the time comes.Jean Snow, a very unstandable uncle of Leo, has an unsubmissive greed for everything Leo has, that doesn’t exclude the Snow Groups and Company. Even being the blood brother of Leo’s father doesn’t change the fact that he is exceedingly obsessed with this pretty, small omega nephew of his.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”