Here are the rewritten passages in English: --- **Option One: Incorporating Bullet Comments, Highlighting Taboo and Scheme** The dim elevator, its space suffocating, yet unable to suppress Clara’s desire, surging like magma. 【OMG, what kind of shuraba is this? She called him Daddy?!】 【Hold on, bullet comment alert: This is the abuser’s father, she’s out for revenge!】 【Exciting! This woman is definitely not simple!】 As his tall frame loomed over her, a dangerous yet familiar cold, crisp scent completely enveloped her. His lips pressed down, rough yet laced with a seductive tenderness. “Daddy…” Her voice was broken, husky, carrying a despair even she hadn’t recognized, “Please… take me.” 【Despair? Or a prey’s lure to its hunter?】 This was not just physical longing; it was a soul-deep hunger for attention and protection—and for a meticulously planned game. Later, she lay on the cold leather bench, the glaring bandage on her knee a wound left by his son. It was like a medal, proclaiming her trampled past and the revenge about to begin. She looked up at him, her voice faint as if a breath could scatter it: “The rest of me… also needs your attention.” 【The rest of her? Bullet comment deciphered: The pain of being bullied, the ignored soul, and that hidden, forbidden flame of revenge!】 【Masterful, truly masterful! This is a top-tier player’s dialogue!】 His deep gaze lingered on her injured knee, his fingertips gently stroking it, as if able to penetrate flesh and reach her boiling soul. He seemed to understand that this was not merely a physical encounter, but a complex intertwining of power, control, and salvation. Clara’s trembling hands began to unbutton his shirt; each unfastened button was a silent surrender, yet also a daring act of defiance. She was placing herself in peril, but also gripping a deadly weapon. When he kissed her injured knee, then her thigh, an extreme tremor coursed through her, half fear, half ecstasy. 【Holy moly! She’s pregnant with the abuser’s child, but seducing the abuser’s father!】 【This game, the stakes are high, but it’s addicting. And she, she is the sole master.】 【Anticipating what’s next, is the Empress’s revenge story about to begin?!】 --- **Option Two: Focusing on Internal Monologue and Suppressed Machinations** The dim elevator, its space suffocating, yet unable to suppress the dark current of desire surging within Clara. His proximity brought that dangerous, familiar scent, completely enveloping her. As his lips pressed down, every cell in her body screamed both submission and defiance. “Daddy, please… take me.” She knew her voice carried a broken, husky quality she herself hadn’t recognized. It wasn't just physical thirst; it was a soul-deep hunger for a twisted form of attention and protection. And beneath that hunger lay her years-buried flame of secret revenge, poised to ignite. Later, she lay on the cold leather bench, the startling bandage on her knee a mark left by his son. It wasn't a wound, but a brand, a blood-written declaration of war against his son, and a lure to draw this man before her into her trap. She looked up at him, her voice weak as if it could dissipate at any moment, yet each word was precisely chosen: “The rest of me… also needs your attention.” She referred to the pain of being bullied, the soul that had been ignored, and that forbidden yet fervent belief in “revenge.” His deep gaze lingered on her injured knee, his fingertips gently stroking it. She could feel that he seemed to have already caught the scent of power, control, and salvation in this complex game. But he would never know that the true stakes far exceeded anything he could imagine. Clara’s trembling hands began to unbutton his shirt; each unfastening was a chain she personally bound him with. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, the stakes high, yet addicting. After all, she was pregnant with the child of her abuser’s father—this was not just a life, but the cornerstone of her path to revenge. And this game, it was only just beginning. --- **Option Three: Emphasizing Emotional Complexity and Moral Ambiguity** The dim elevator, its space suffocating, yet unable to suppress the tearing desire within Clara. As his lips pressed down, a dangerous yet familiar scent instantly enveloped her, like a gentle yet deadly net. “Daddy, please… take me.” Her voice was broken, husky, carrying a despair even she hadn’t recognized. She knew this was not merely a physical craving; it was a soul-deep, insatiable hunger for the attention and protection that should have been hers. The boundaries of morality blurred in that moment, the forbidden attraction swallowing her like an abyss. Later, she lay on the cold leather bench, the bandage on her knee glaringly conspicuous. It was a wound left by his son, and a humiliation she couldn’t escape. She looked up at him, her gaze holding an almost pleading persistence, born of abandonment: “The rest of me… also needs your attention.” Her unspoken meaning was the deeply wounded parts of her soul, the pain of being bullied, and that hidden yet forbidden flame of revenge, twisted and birthed by that very pain. His deep gaze lingered on her injured knee, his fingertips gently stroking it. He seemed to understand that this intricate entanglement between them was not merely a physical collision, but a complex intertwining of power, control, and salvation. Clara’s trembling hands began to unbutton his shirt; each unfastening felt like a struggle with fate. She knew this was both a silent surrender and a daring act of defiance. When he kissed her knee, then her thigh, a tremor coursed through her, half fear, half ecstasy. She clearly knew she was playing a dangerous game, her dignity, even her future, at stake. But she knew even more clearly that she was pregnant with the child of her abuser’s father, and this game had only just begun; she had no other choice. After an unexpected romance with her bully's wealthy father, a bullied college student becomes her tormentor's stepmother, using her new status to get sweet revenge.