Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 683 Ocean

Chapter 683 -683 Ocean

Colton stared at her, as if trying to process the words. For a moment, it didn’t register.

It couldn’t be real.

He looked at her flat stomach, back to her eyes, and then at Ross’s smug expression.

Then it hit.

And it hit hard.

“Fuck you!” he roared, his voice echoing through the house.

His face twisted with pure rage as he lunged toward the nearby drawer, yanked it open, and grabbed the pistol he kept inside for emergencies.

His hands trembled—not from fear, but from fury—as he turned back, raising the gun.

His eyes locked on Ross. His vision tunneled.

But before he could pull the trigger—

A blur of motion.

A crushing force.

“Bang!” Ross’s fist slammed into his face with brutal precision, catching him squarely between the eyes.

Pain exploded in Colton’s skull. His grip on the gun loosened. His knees buckled.

“Sleep tight, princess.” Ross said mockingly, watching as Colton collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.

Silence returned.

Kristine stood frozen in the doorway, staring at her husband’s crumpled body.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wanted to say something, maybe even cry—but nothing came.

Ross dusted off his knuckles and looked down at Colton, unconscious and defeated.

“Well,” he said casually, glancing over at Kristine, “that could’ve gone worse.”

Kristine didn’t respond.

She stepped past Colton’s motionless body and sat down on the couch, suddenly feeling the weight of the night settle over her shoulders. Her chest tightened.

“What now?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Ross shrugged, walking over and sitting beside her.

“Now,” he said, draping an arm around her, “we put his ass where it belongs. Behind bars.”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or terrified.

Outside, dawn was beginning to rise—but inside, a new kind of darkness had just begun.

***

“Hmmm… where am I?”

Colton’s voice came out as a croak. His mouth was dry, and every part of his body ached.

His eyelids fluttered open, but the fluorescent lights above him stabbed into his skull like knives.

A slow, throbbing pain pulsed at the center of his forehead.

He winced and tried to move—only to find he couldn’t.

What the hell?

Panic surged through him as he looked down. Thick leather straps and cold metal glinted under the harsh hospital lights.

His wrists—handcuffed to the bed.

His legs—bound as well.

It took a moment for his sluggish brain to piece it all together.

The faint beeping of a heart monitor echoed in the room. The white walls. The sterile smell.

He was in a hospital.

No—he was in custody.

“What… what’s going on?” he muttered, struggling against the restraints.

A pair of heavy boots approached.

Then a man’s voice, low and detached, filled the room.

“You are under arrest, Mr. Reyes, for attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Colton’s mind reeled. Attempted murder?

And then it hit him.

Ross.

The gun.

The punch.

His memories returned in a sickening flood. Kristine. The baby. The betrayal.

He had pulled the gun. He’d meant to shoot Ross.

But he never pulled the trigger—Ross had knocked him out cold before he got the chance.

So how the hell was it attempted murder?

The officer continued reading his rights, but the words became distant, drowned by the roar of rage and disbelief in Colton’s ears.

It was like waking into a nightmare and realizing it was all real.

The next few hours moved in a blur.

He was sedated briefly, wheeled out of the hospital bed with cuffs around his wrists and ankles.

Press photographers shouted questions as he was dragged into a police van.

The headlines were already spreading.

“NBA Super Rookie Arrested for Attempted Murder of Billionaire Giant Ross Oakley”

“Jealous Husband Snaps Over Alleged Affair—Pulls Gun on Pregnant Wife’s Lover”

They didn’t even get the facts right.

Within hours, he was processed at the county jail. Fingerprints. Mugshots.

Stripped of everything—his phone, his wallet, even his dignity.

They shoved him into an orange jumpsuit and locked him in a holding cell like some kind of animal.

No one would speak to him. Not the guards. Not the booking officer.

And certainly not anyone who could explain why his bail was denied without so much as a hearing.

By the time the cell door slammed shut behind him, it was night again. He hadn’t slept.

Couldn’t eat. His entire body felt wired and broken at once.

It wasn’t until the next morning that his lawyer finally appeared.

A man in his late forties, dressed in a wrinkled navy suit and holding a thick file.

He sat down across from Colton in the dimly lit consultation room, his expression tight.

“Mr. Reyes,” he began, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve reviewed your case. I won’t lie to you—it’s bad.”

Colton stared at him, face pale, eyes hollow. “I didn’t even shoot him,” he said.

“You didn’t have to,” the lawyer replied flatly. “They’ve already built the story. Attempted murder, aggravated assault, illegal possession of a firearm—hell, they even listed domestic terrorism on the preliminary charge sheet.”

“What? That’s bullshit! I—” Colton leaned forward, fists clenched on the table. “He knocked me out before I could even—he—he’s the one who hit me!”

The lawyer sighed. “That’s not what’s in the report. According to the statement filed, you pulled a weapon in a domestic dispute, threatened two lives, and had to be restrained for public safety. There’s even security footage—edited, obviously—that paints you as a violent aggressor.”

Colton’s mouth went dry. “They… they edited footage?”

The lawyer nodded grimly. “You’ve offended a very powerful man, Mr. Reyes. I’ve been practicing law for over twenty years, and I have never seen due process dismantled this fast. No hearing. No bail. They’re moving to bury you.”

Colton leaned back, his mind racing, his breath shallow. “Ross. He did this. He’s pulling strings.”

“That’s a safe assumption,” the lawyer said. “But don’t lose hope. This isn’t over. We still have cards to play, and your chances of walking free are far from zero. It’s going to take time, and a hell of a fight—but we will fight.”

Colton said nothing for a long while.

He stared at the scuffed metal table between them, jaw tight.

Ross had taken his wife.

Now he wanted to take his freedom too.