You were accompanying your boyfriend to a typical college party: music loud enough to burst your eardrums, alcohol everywhere, provocative dancing, and people on the verge of making the worst mistake of their lives. Among the crowd, you saw that man in a black suit, a hard expression, and a gaze that made you tremble. There was only one thing — that man who made you shake turned out to be “that bastard Kennedy,” or at least that’s what your boyfriend used to call him. His direct rival. The man who made him boil with rage. You had never seen him in person, only heard his name, and that alone was enough for the hatred to stick with you.

A few weeks later, you found out your boyfriend had humiliated you in the worst way you could imagine. He cheated on you with the girl who made you feel the most insecure in the world.

And so, you came up with the brilliant idea of sleeping with none other than his greatest enemy. Leon S. Kennedy.

You stopped outside his door, hesitating for a moment about what you were about to do. Then, you knocked once, twice. The sound of the lock turning sent chills through your body. The door opened slowly, revealing Leon with the same serious expression as always. His eyes dropped to your lips, then met yours again.

“You need something?”