Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Aliya stared at Cyrus, who was now just inches away. Her throat seized up. She forced a dry, trembling laugh, desperately trying to bluff her way out.

"I... I really was asleep," she stuttered. "You just woke me up."

Cyrus didn't bother arguing with her pathetic lie. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her from above.

His gray eyes looked pitch-black in the dim light. They carried an oppressive, undeniable weight.

In Cyrus's mind, they were a cohabitating couple. Even if they fought during the day, physical intimacy at night was a form of comfort. It was his duty.

He lowered his head. His warm breath, smelling faintly of mint and laundry detergent, brushed against the side of Aliya's neck. He moved in to press a pacifying kiss to her skin.

Aliya's pupils dilated to the point of bursting. Every nerve ending in her body screamed in rejection. This was the man who would lock her in a cage for the rest of her life!

A split second before his lips made contact, her survival instinct violently overrode her fear. Aliya threw both hands up and shoved hard against Cyrus's solid chest.

Cyrus was completely caught off guard. The force pushed him backward. His back hit the mattress with a heavy, muffled thud.

The air in the room instantly froze. The brief warmth in Cyrus's eyes vanished, replaced by a freezing, analytical glare and a surge of suppressed anger.

He stared at her as if looking at a stranger. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Aliya shrank back against the wall, gasping for air. Her brain spun out of control. She needed a flawless excuse for her physical rejection.

She couldn't say she didn't like him. She couldn't say she was terrified. The original owner's entire persona was built on clinging to him like a parasite.

In a flash of desperate inspiration, Aliya's eyes darted to the crumpled bills on the nightstand.

"We can't have a baby!" she blurted out.

Cyrus froze. The deep crease between his eyebrows showed his absolute confusion at the sudden pivot.

Aliya swallowed hard, the words tumbling out faster now. "We can barely afford rent! You're killing yourself delivering food every day. If we have a baby right now, we can't afford to keep it alive!"

She injected her voice with raw, realistic panic, shifting the entire conflict onto their financial ruin.

Cyrus's eyes flickered. The excuse was brutally grounded in reality. It acted like a physical needle, piercing directly into his current insecurities as a "broke, failing man."

He remembered the bone-deep exhaustion of hauling boxes at the warehouse today. He remembered the pathetic fifty-dollar tip. A subtle, stinging blow hit his pride.

He sat up, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His voice dropped an octave, sounding rough. "We always use protection."

"Nothing is ever one hundred percent safe!" Aliya shot back instantly, her voice trembling with raw, unfiltered panic. "What if there's an accident? What if it breaks? We can't afford to gamble on a 'what if' right now! Even a microscopic mistake would completely destroy our... our lives right now."

She bit down hard on the word "lives," forcing him to look at their poverty.

Cyrus stared at her in silence. A complex storm of emotions raged in his eyes. He knew this woman was vain and greedy, but the sheer panic in her eyes right now didn't look fake.

He assumed she was disgusted by his current incompetence. She was disgusted that he couldn't provide a stable safety net.

An unspeakable sense of defeat and a nameless fury spread through Cyrus's chest. But his iron-clad rationality forced it down.

He let out a cold, sharp laugh. He rolled over, turning his back to Aliya, and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder.

"Relax," his voice was as cold as ice. "Until you feel safe, I won't touch you."

The words acted as an absolute pardon. The heart Aliya had suspended in her throat finally dropped back into her chest.

She quietly exhaled a breath of stale air. She lay back down, but maintained her highly defensive posture, her back glued to the wall.

That night, they lay back-to-back on the same small bed. A massive chasm of missing information and heavy defenses separated them until the sun came up.