Third person's POV
The man's mouth was stuffed with a smelly sock, his facial muscles twisted with sheer terror.
Beads of sweat rolled from his forehead, and his eyes were filled with fear and unease.
He thought to himself, he had just come aboard for some excitement, attracted by the woman's figure which suited his taste, and made a suggestion casually. He never expected such fierce treatment.
On this ship, who was truly innocent and clean?
This guy was pretending to be a gentleman, which was utterly laughable.
As Derek pulled out the sock from the man's mouth, he immediately tearfully pleaded, "I was just joking with you. Look at you, getting so excited. If you don't want to play, we don't have to. Please, spare me!"
A strong sense of disgust welled up in Derek, his eyes filled with cold mockery.
"Ha," he sneered, swiftly removing the man's mask. "I'll play with you properly."
In Derek's view, masks were like the fig leaves these people used to cover their shame. Now that it was removed, it was as if their ugly souls were exposed in broad daylight.
Derek instantly recognized the face. It was a well-known entrepreneur in Seattle.
The media always tirelessly promoted him as a model husband and father, and his children were seen as promising in everyone's eyes.
But who could have imagined that such a seemingly successful man would have such a repulsive hidden face? Derek felt his stomach churn.
"My mask! Give it back to me!" the man shouted in panic.
Derek expressionlessly let the mask slip through his fingers and fall to the ground, then crushed it under his foot.
Looking at the broken mask on the ground, it was as if Derek had crushed this man's hypocritical pretense.
He stepped aside, pondering that he had always heard about the many ugly aspects of human nature, and the scandals of the rich indulging in debauchery were not unfamiliar to him. But he never had such inclinations, so he never paid much attention.
Now, thinking that he had interacted with this man last year. He treated him with some courtesy because of the good image he had in the media.
Knowing his true face made Derek feel dirty just by stepping on him.
Thinking that this man dared to scheme against Tabitha, Derek's eyes turned as cold as a frosty pond. He said in a deep, threatening voice, "Break his hands."
"Yes, sir." Rolf, also wearing a mask, with no constraints of identity, leaned casually with his hands behind his head, holding a baseball bat, a playful smirk on his lips, his eyes showing a hint of ruthlessness.
"What, what are you doing? Do you know who I am?" the man shouted, his voice trembling.
Rolf said with a rogue's smile, "Of course I do. I didn't expect you to be not so good-looking but quite the player. No one cares how you play normally, but you messed with the wrong person."
Derek glanced at the man coldly, as if his eyes could shoot icicles, turned around, and strode away.
The moment the door closed, the room echoed with the man's shrill screams, the sound penetrating the door and reverberating in the hallway.
Derek stood at the door, slightly raising his chin, leisurely adjusting his cuffs, his movements elegant and composed, as if nothing that had just happened had anything to do with him.
He wasn't heartlessly ruthless without reason. There were few normal people on this ship.
Since the man had set his sights on Tabitha, it was better to strike first to prevent him from secretly employing all sorts of despicable means.
Only by treating him in the same way he planned to treat Tabitha and Ayla could he ensure no one would harm them.
Derek was extremely annoyed. He slowly walked to the railing, took out a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.
The sea was a bit rough. He slightly bent down, one hand loosely shielding the wind. The sea wind howled, blowing through his hair.
His tall figure seemed a bit lonely in the wind, but the noble aura surrounding him could not be covered up. This unique aura attracted a woman wearing a mask not far away.
The woman's eyes flashed with excitement the moment she saw Derek.
She deliberately straightened her sexy, hot mini-skirt, swayed her slender waist, and walked towards him with a seductive gait, her eyes full of undisguised temptation.
"Hello, could I borrow a light?" she said in a deliberately lowered, coquettish tone.
This was a well-known code on the ship. If you handed the lighter to the other person, it meant you agreed to a certain ambiguous invitation.
Derek glanced at the woman indifferently, his eyes without a ripple, only endless coldness.
Under her confident gaze, Derek directly threw the lighter into the sea, then, without a single extra look at her, he walked away expressionlessly.
The woman looked at his indifferent back, slightly stunned, and then a smile of interest curled the corners of her mouth.
When Derek came back, his face was no longer as cold and ruthless as it had been outside.
He gently took off his mask, letting out a long sigh as if to dispel all the gloom outside.
He was holding an exquisite little cake, which he had brought back specially for Ayla.
Ayla, who had been sitting in the corner feeling a bit bored, brightened up as soon as she saw Derek return.
Her face bloomed into a bright smile, and she ran towards Derek cheerfully, sweetly calling out, "Wilmot!"