Pampered By The Cold Mind Reading Tycoon
I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts!
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Chapter 1
Elba forced her heavy eyelids open. The harsh afternoon sunlight pouring through the hospital window stabbed at her retinas. She raised a weak, trembling hand to block the glare. Her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.
A tall shadow instantly eclipsed the light.
Angelo stood up from the custom leather sofa. His broad shoulders blocked the window entirely, casting a dark, suffocating presence over the hospital bed. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his posture rigid.
"Are you done playing dead?" Angelo's voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. "Is this your new strategy to avoid taking responsibility for pushing Georgina down the stairs?"
Elba's chest tightened. She couldn't form words through her parched throat. She shrank back against the pillows, pulling her shoulders inward, her eyes wide with defensive panic.
Angelo let out a harsh breath through his nose. He reached out and slammed his finger onto the nurse call button above her bed.
Elba watched his broad back. A sudden, violent rush of images flooded her brain-a horrific vision from her coma. The destruction of the Potter family. Her own miserable death. It wasn't a memory, but a terrifying prophecy. It was all going to be real.
This stupid brother, Elba thought, her internal voice screaming in the silence of her mind. He's still yelling at me for that fake heiress Georgina. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to federal prison next month!
Angelo's finger froze on the plastic button. His knuckles turned stark white.
He whipped his head around. His sharp, dark eyes locked onto Elba's face. He scanned the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Elba felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep, her breathing erratic.
Angelo looked at the empty corners of the VIP room. There were no speakers. No other people. His pulse hammered against his ribs.
The Potter Group is going to file for bankruptcy because of forged financial statements, Elba complained in her head, keeping her eyes clamped shut. Angelo is just the pathetic Wall Street scapegoat.
The words rang crystal clear inside Angelo's skull. It wasn't a sound in the room. It was a voice echoing directly in his brain.
He sucked in a sharp breath. He closed the distance to the bed in two long strides and grabbed Elba's wrist.
Elba gasped in pain. She opened her eyes, staring at him in sheer terror. She bit down hard on her lower lip, refusing to speak.
"What did you just say?" Angelo demanded, his voice a low, dangerous hiss. He leaned in close, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.
Elba shook her head frantically.
Is he crazy? she screamed internally. Is he going to strangle me to death right now to get revenge for Georgina?
Angelo dropped her wrist like it was burning hot metal.
He stumbled back two steps. His shoulder blades hit the cold plaster wall. He stared at his own hands, his breathing shallow and fast. He was losing his mind. He had to be.
The heavy wooden door pushed open. The attending physician rushed in, followed by three nurses.
The doctor clicked on a penlight and leaned over Elba. "Miss Potter, how are you feeling? Follow the light, please."
"Just dizzy," Elba whispered. Her voice was a raspy, broken croak.
Angelo watched her meek, obedient expression from the wall.
My head hurts so much, Elba's voice echoed in his brain again. I definitely have a concussion from Georgina pushing me down those stairs yesterday.
Angelo's pupils dilated. His stomach dropped. He had been told Elba slipped. Georgina had cried for hours saying Elba lost her balance.
Angelo pushed off the wall. He grabbed the attending physician by the collar of his white coat, lifting him slightly onto his toes.
"Get her a full neurological workup," Angelo ordered, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "MRI, CT scan, everything. Now."
The doctor paled, his hands shaking as he gripped Angelo's wrists. "Y-yes, Mr. Potter. Right away. Nurses, get the wheelchair."
Angelo let him go. The nurses hurried forward, carefully helping Elba sit up and shift into the wheelchair.
Elba let them move her, keeping her head down.
Fine, scan me, she muttered in her mind. I hope you find a terminal illness. I don't want to stay in this bankrupt, toxic family for another single day.
A thick vein bulged on Angelo's forehead. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, curling his fingers into tight fists until his nails dug into his palms.
He followed the wheelchair out of the room. The cold air of the hospital corridor hit his face. He pulled out his phone with a stiff hand and typed a message to his executive assistant: Pull the security footage from the main staircase at the estate. Yesterday afternoon. Do it now.
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9.8
Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family.
But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street.
After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began.
A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy.
Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion.
And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion.
Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets.
Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed.
Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate.
"Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all."
To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.
8.9
I sold myself into a loveless marriage for $500,000 just to afford my little niece's life-saving surgery.
But my new husband, Kash, despised me, completely convinced I was a shameless gold-digger after his assets.
At 2:00 AM, he called to demand I fulfill my end of our twisted bargain: giving him an heir.
He forced me to sign a supplementary agreement surrendering all custody rights before I was even pregnant, treating me like a rented womb he bought at auction.
When my niece's condition suddenly worsened and I desperately begged him for a $50,000 advance, he hurled a black credit card directly at my face, leaving a stinging red welt.
"Take the money and get out," he sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He immediately set up real-time transaction alerts to track my every purchase, waiting to catch me on a selfish shopping spree.
He thought I was a parasite, completely unaware that every single penny went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Even my abusive former guardians cornered me at the fertility clinic, loudly mocking me for selling my body while my niece was dying.
I endured the degrading contracts, the cold IVF appointments, and Kash's relentless contempt, suffocating under the weight of his cruel assumptions.
Why did he have to strip away my dignity when he already owned my life on paper?
But as I clutched the hospital receipt that finally secured my niece's surgery, the fear inside me died.
With a new career starting tomorrow and a high-powered lawyer suddenly stepping in to audit my stolen inheritance, I was done playing the helpless victim.
I was going to show my arrogant husband exactly what happens when you push a desperate woman too far.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
8.7
Emerson worked grueling twelve-hour shifts just to keep her five-year-old son, Leo, alive. Her only lifeline was her partner Alden, who was willing to give up his wealthy family to protect them.
But when Leo's bone marrow completely failed, the doctor delivered a death sentence. The only way to save him was a two-million-dollar treatment, or having another child with his biological father.
That father was Finnegan Mcconnell, the ruthless billionaire who had accused Emerson of faking her pregnancy and abandoned her five years ago.
Desperate for the medical fees, Emerson submitted her designs to Finnegan's company.
Instead of advancing the money, Finnegan tore her portfolio to shreds and trapped her as a prisoner in his estate.
To force her complete submission, he systematically destroyed her reality. He framed Alden with federal charges, leaving him facing twenty years in prison.
Alden's mother stormed into the pediatric ICU, violently strangling Emerson against the wall.
"Beg Finnegan to let my son go! You are a curse!"
Even Emerson's own adoptive mother showed up at the hospital, just to publicly mock her dying child.
Emerson was suffocating in despair. Finnegan already had a beautiful new wife and a five-year-old daughter—absolute proof he had been cheating while she was pregnant and alone.
He had his perfect family. Why did he have to hunt her down and sever every lifeline she had left, just to watch her drown?
With her son's heart monitor fading and Alden locked in a cell, her pride finally shattered.
Emerson walked into the top-floor executive office and dropped to her knees at the devil's feet, but the desperate mother looking up at him was preparing for a devastating revenge.
7.4
I was the heiress to the Sterling Group, engaged to Brook, the ultimate Wall Street savior who stepped in with emergency capital when my family's company faced sudden bankruptcy.
But one morning, I accidentally answered his hidden burner phone.
It was my sweet best friend, Chelsey. Through the speaker, I heard them laughing about how they successfully framed my brother for an eight-year federal prison sentence just to get the Sterling heir out of the way.
Worse, Brook casually admitted he had bribed the nurses at the private facility to swap my father's life-saving heart medication with placebos.
"Nature will take its course," he said coldly.
He was paying to let my father die so he could drain my last architectural patents, transfer them to his own enterprise, and kick me to the curb. Seconds later, Brook walked into the bedroom, brushed my hair behind my ear, and lovingly called me his sleeping beauty.
A wave of pure, physical nausea crashed over me. The man I was about to marry, the man the media praised as a fiercely devoted hero, was the monster orchestrating my family's complete destruction.
Tears were a luxury I could no longer afford.
I didn't scream, and I didn't confront him. Instead, I washed my face, slid the five-carat diamond ring back onto my finger, and drove straight to his headquarters.
If he wanted to use my family's tragedy to build his empire, I would play the perfect, broken fiancée—right until I burned it all to the ground.
8.0
"One touch is a miracle. Two is a contract. Three is an obsession."
Vespera Moretti was the perfect substitute, until the real heiress returned and her family threw her to the streets like a piece of broken glass. Humiliated and penniless, Vespera has only one weapon left: a mind built for war.
She targets Cassian Valeska, the "Untouchable King" of a global media empire. Due to a dark childhood trauma, Cassian suffers from severe Haphephobia; a single human touch sends him into a violent panic. He is a man who rules the world but cannot hold a hand, until Vespera grabs his wrist, and the chaos in his mind stops.
Vespera is his "Fated Exception."
The Deal: She will be his skin, his fiancée, and his strategist to stabilize his crumbling throne.
The Price: He will give her the scorched-earth power to dismantle the Moretti family brick by brick.
But as the "Touch Protocol" moves from tactical hand-holding to soul-searing intimacy, Vespera realizes that healing a monster is dangerous... especially when the monster starts to crave her more than his own empire.