Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

"Haya, would you escort Mr. Martin out for me?"

This was the first time since their father's death that Haya's brother, King Abdullah, had spoken to her in such a gentle tone.

Haya readily agreed. She had too many questions for Martin and couldn't wait for answers.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what I mean!"

"And why should I tell you? Oh, by the way, your brother has agreed to arrange a meeting between me and the King and Crown Prince of Dubai. I'll ensure that Crown Prince stops fixating on you. Then, you'll truly be free."

Haya's face lit up with joy, followed by a look of awe. "I can't believe you managed to get this far. I'm genuinely curious."

"Don't be too curious about me," Martin quipped with a mischievous grin. "I'd hate for you to fall in love with me."

Finally, he couldn't resist flirting.

To be fair, for a succubus, maintaining propriety in front of such a stunning beauty was a near-impossible challenge.

"Oh, really? Winning my heart will take more than that," Haya said with a playful smile, her demeanor reminiscent of her carefree days as a student in England.

"You're handsome, and you're impressive—but not strong enough!"

Martin was momentarily stunned. Not strong enough?

Looking down at himself, he realized the issue.

His build fell into the "lean but muscular" category—he looked slim in clothes but had a sculpted physique underneath. Compared to someone like Leo, the towering bald bodyguard, he probably seemed less physically imposing.

Martin chuckled. "Princess Haya, how long has it been since you last used the internet?"

"The internet? I... It's been a while. I haven't had the interest to explore new things in recent years."

"Well, I suggest you get online, search my name, and then decide whether I'm strong enough."

By this time, they had reached the car.

Martin, seeing Haya lost in thought over his comment, smiled and said, "Goodbye, beautiful princess. I hope you'll feel even better the next time we meet."

With that, he climbed into the car, and it drove away.

Haya watched as the vehicle disappeared into the distance, her mind still replaying his words.

Search his name online?

That evening, after dinner, Haya returned to her bedroom early to rest.

Martin's words echoed in her mind: "Search my name online, and you'll see if I'm strong."

She entered her private study adjoining the bedroom, turned on her computer, and connected to the internet. Navigating to Yahoo, she typed in Martin Myers.

A flood of results appeared.

"Martin: The Most Beautiful Elf. Legolas' Beauty Will Be Remembered in Film History."

Haya smiled to herself. She had seen The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and had adored Martin's portrayal of Legolas. His ethereal beauty had captivated her back then, though her enthusiasm for the film had waned after the pressures of her arranged marriage.

Clicking on a forum post, she indulged in several photos and clips of Legolas' breathtaking looks. Twenty minutes later, still enchanted, she reluctantly closed the post and resumed browsing.

"Neo from The Matrix Teaches Us How to Fight with Elegance. Combat Can Be Beautiful."

Intrigued, Haya clicked on another post featuring a compilation of Neo's fight scenes set to epic music. The graceful choreography sent chills down her spine.

While Neo was undeniably cool, his fights didn't exactly scream physical strength—they showcased technique and elegance instead.

She continued scrolling through posts about Martin, learning more about him as her curiosity deepened.

Until—

"Martin Myers: The Sea God!"

Curious, she opened the post and found a video.

When she clicked play, the sound of roaring wind and crashing waves blasted from her computer speakers, startling her.

What is this? A hurricane? A tsunami?

She squinted at the screen and noticed a figure cutting through the waves, striding powerfully against the wind.

Then the camera zoomed in.

It was Martin.

The camera panned over his dripping, muscular frame as a massive wave crashed down. Martin burst through the torrent, his movements sharp and commanding, his defined muscles gleaming with raw power.

Gulp.

Haya realized she had unconsciously swallowed, her mouth slightly open.

It wasn't her fault. The sculpted, fluid musculature on display was too mesmerizing. Judging by the video's staggering view count—113 million—it was clear many others felt the same way.

Who knew? Who knew this guy was so strong?

Haya replayed the video repeatedly, utterly captivated, before finally saving it to her computer.

Resuming her search, she stumbled upon another shocking title:

"Murderer Martin: Kicks a Grown Man to Death!"

Curious and slightly alarmed, Haya clicked the post.

The video showed Martin in a warehouse, delivering a single, powerful kick that snapped a man's neck—identified in the article as the "Hollywood Ripper." The clip had been edited from surveillance and police bodycam footage, focusing on the sheer force and precision of Martin's devastating kick.

Haya was stunned. She hadn't seen the earlier footage of Martin fighting bank robbers due to the restrictions imposed during her most difficult years. This clip was her first glimpse of his raw, violent strength.

She read the article accompanying the video and learned the story behind the incident. Rewatching the footage, she noticed a fiery determination in Martin's actions.

Who was that girl, Lindsay? What was she to Martin that he would risk everything—even kill—to protect her?

The thought brought an unexpected pang of jealousy.

As the hours passed, Haya's impression of Martin transformed.

Initially, he was just a handsome young man. Then, he became a physically strong and captivating figure. Now, she saw him as a man who exuded strength, security, and an unshakable resolve to protect those he cared about.

Meanwhile, lying in his own bed and watching television, Martin suddenly felt a new surge of desire energy flowing toward him.

He smiled knowingly. "So, she really did look me up online. Looks like the next time we meet, her opinion of me will be very different."

In another room, Evans Crookes was sweating profusely as he made a phone call, frantically explaining the $1 million expenditure to the Texas Oil Group's board of directors.

Although Evans held considerable authority as the company's CEO, he was still merely an employee in the eyes of the board. His power was granted by them—and could just as easily be revoked.

Thus, he had no choice but to muster all his energy to navigate their relentless questioning.