I Became the Rich Second-Generation Villain - Chapter 333:

The moment the recording played, Feng Anna recognized her own voice instantly. These were the words she’d whispered to Wang Haoran that very morning—intimate, unguarded, laced with false tenderness. But how had they been recorded? And more terrifyingly, how had they landed in Yan Yuntian’s hands?

“What’s wrong? Didn’t catch that?” Yan Yuntian’s voice was laced with disdain. “Then maybe these will make it clearer.”

He flung a stack of photos across the air. The glossy prints fluttered like broken leaves before scattering across the floor.

Feng Anna glanced down. Just a glance, and her heart dropped into her stomach. The woman in the pictures was undeniably herself, eyes closed, skin bare beneath a thin sheet. Though the man beside her had his face blurred, the angle made it obvious that he was the one who took the photos.

The recording left her some room for denial, but these images stripped that last defense away. In an instant, she knew exactly who had done it.

“Let me explain—”

“Oh, you mean lie?” Yan Yuntian cut her off coldly, voice thick with contempt. “Tell me, who’s the man in the photos?”

Feng Anna opened her mouth but hesitated. She intended to confess as her panic pushed her to the edge of honesty. But she wasn’t a fool. After that split second of fear, her thoughts sharpened.

These photos and that recording—this had to be Wang Haoran’s doing, there was no doubt. But how did Wang Haoran know about Yan Yuntian’s existence, and even send all this to him before she could find him myself?

More importantly, a man like Wang Haoran, one who had turned the game against her so effortlessly, would never act without a backup plan. If he’d dared send these, then he must’ve prepared for every outcome.

Telling the truth might shift the blame, but Yan Yuntian wasn’t the kind of man who tolerated betrayal. She knew exactly how that would end. Silence, on the other hand, might leave her a sliver of hope.

She inhaled slowly, eyes dimming.

“Just kill me,” she said quietly. “I have nothing to say.”

“No?” Yan Yuntian’s smile was frigid. “That’s fine. I’ll find out eventually.”

He turned his back slightly, his voice like a blade, clean and final. “The Feng family holds a respectable name in Hong Kong. Out of respect for them, and for Fengxu Sect—I’ll give you three days. Find yourself a dignified way to die.”

The verdict didn’t surprise her. But the chill in her blood ran deeper nonetheless.

Still, she held onto one small thread of solace that he did not kill her on the spot. Three days. That was enough to try something. Anything.

She didn’t beg. She knew it would be useless. Head bowed, she turned and left without a word.

“Follow her,” Yan Yuntian ordered Yu Ning. “I want to know who that man is.”

The truth was, the only reason he hadn’t struck Feng Anna down was that he needed the name. He had no interest in sparing her—only in catching the other snake.

If she had named the man outright, she would already be a corpse.

“I’ll go now,” Yu Ning replied. But instead of trailing Feng Anna, she went straight to report everything to Wang Haoran.

—

Feng Anna stumbled back into the hotel like a ghost.

“Anna, how did it go? Is everything settled?” Zhong Li rushed to greet her with a hopeful smile, but her expression stiffened the moment she saw Feng Anna’s face.

“Something went wrong, didn’t it?”

Taking a deep breath, Feng Anna tried to steady herself. Then she told her everything.

Zhong Li stood frozen for a long moment. “But… wasn’t this all part of your plan? How did it end like this?”

“I underestimated him,” Feng Anna said bitterly, slumping onto the sofa. “That Wang Haoran looks like your typical lust-addled rich second gen, but in truth, he’s anything but that. He played me, and I didn’t even realize until it was far too late.”

“Then why not just tell Yan Yuntian the truth? Why try to hide it?” Zhong Li pressed.

“Because if I had, I might not have walked out of there alive.”

A flicker of real fear passed through her eyes. “You saw his face, Zhong Yi. That man would never forgive a betrayal like this.”

“But what now?” Zhong Li’s voice rose, panic creeping in. “He’s only given you three days. Then what?”

Feng Anna closed her eyes, breathing deeply, fighting to quiet the screaming inside her mind. Minutes passed. Then, slowly, her lashes lifted.

“Find Wang Haoran,” she said flatly.

“What? To take revenge?” Zhong Li asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Feng Anna said. “Because right now… he might be the only one who can save me.”

Zhong Li was speechless. “He’s just a spoiled rich kid, even with some background—how could he possibly stand up to Yan Yuntian?”

“My gut says he’s far more dangerous than he lets on. Zhong Yi, if you don’t want to be arranging my funeral three days from now, don’t argue. Just go.”

Zhong Li didn’t press further. She simply nodded and left to begin the search.

But by the time she returned, darkness had already fallen, and her hands were empty.

That night, Feng Anna didn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, heart pounding, thoughts spiraling into panic.

The next morning, Zhong Li tried again. Still, nothing. No sign of him. No news.

When the sun rose on the third day, it brought no hope—only the weight of the final day.

Feng Anna paced the hotel like an animal in a cage, her anxiety thick enough to choke on.

But what arrived wasn’t help.

It was a phone call from her family.

Her father. Her mother.

They were severing ties.

The Feng family—the same one that once treated her like a pearl in the palm—now cast her aside like a disgrace. As soon as the call ended, another came from her company.

Her business partner, the woman she once called her closest friend, had quietly taken over the company in her absence, stripping it from her hands.

Once a woman envied by all, pampered like a princess, and surrounded by wealth and affection—Feng Anna now had nothing. Not even her life. Tomorrow, she wouldn’t live to see the sun.

This kind of collapse, this sheer, brutal descent from heaven to hell, would shatter anyone. Even someone with nerves of steel.

And Feng Anna had long since lost hers.

She crumpled to the floor, hugging her knees, body wracked with sobs—not the elegant tears of performance, but the raw, guttural cries of a woman broken.

This time, she wasn’t acting.

“Tsk, tsk…”

A mocking click of the tongue echoed from the door, barely ajar.

The laughter was casual. Watching. Amused.

Feng Anna’s sobs hitched. Slowly, she turned toward the sound.