Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant
Aliya woke up in a dingy, freezing apartment with a throbbing headache, only to realize a horrifying truth.
She had transmigrated into the American romance novel she read just last night, becoming the ultimate vicious supporting character. The exhausted man walking through the front door was Cyrus Pace, an amnesiac billionaire currently living under the delusion that he was a broke laborer.
The original owner had trapped him with fabricated memories of being childhood sweethearts. Worse, she relentlessly abused him. Her phone was filled with toxic texts calling him a useless loser, and she had just staged a psychotic hunger strike to force him to buy a designer bag. Cyrus already looked at her with bone-deep, visceral disgust. In the original plot, the moment he regained his memory, his ruthless revenge would send her straight to a maximum-security prison for the rest of her life.
"Are you done playing your hunger strike game?"
Hearing his cold, mocking voice, the sheer terror made Aliya's blood run cold. How was she supposed to survive living with a future tyrant who already despised her? Every time his massive shadow fell over their cramped, shared mattress, her heart stopped. A single wrong move—even a microscopic mistake like accidentally crossing a physical line—would completely seal her doom.
Staring at the torn box of condoms hidden under the bed, Aliya made a desperate, life-or-death decision.
She had to completely rewrite her toxic persona, secretly hustle a high-commission real estate job, and save enough money to flee the country before the billionaire remembered exactly who he was.
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Chapter 4
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.
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8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
9.3
Marissa was the perfect wife. She traded her high powered corporate ladder for home cooked meals and a designer sanctuary, all to support her husband, Ethan.
But when Ethan confesses to a four month affair not out of guilt, but because his mistress is extorting him for $300 million...Marissa's world turns to ash.Ethan's solution is as twisted as his heart.
"Cheat back. Get even. Stay married."Driven by a cocktail of rage and Revenge, Marissa decides to take him up on his offer. She heads into the night looking for a single moment of rebellion to wash away the scent of Ethan's lies.
She finds it in the arms of a cold, devastatingly masked handsome stranger who makes her forget everything.Broken and fueled by the betrayal, Marissa decides to take the ultimate risk. She slips into an exclusive, members only masquerade club...a place where names don't exist and only desires matter.
Behind a lace mask, she meets him....a man who smells of expensive bourbon and cold command.He is the first person in years to see the fire in her, not just the wife she became.They share a night of scorched....earth passion that leaves Marissa breathless and "even." She leaves before the sun rises, intending for the stranger to remain a ghost of her revenge.
But some ghosts have a name.When the masks come off and the corporate world demands her return, Marissa comes face to face with the man from the club. He isn't just anyone. He is Xavier Sterling....the ruthless billionaire CEO she once worked for, and the man Ethan calls his "best friend."Xavier knows her scent. He knows her touch. And most dangerously, he knows exactly what Ethan did to her.
Now, Marissa has to navigate a world where her husband wants her to stay, the mistress wants her dead, and the CEO wants to own the one woman he was never supposed to touch.
Now, Marissa is caught in a lethal triangle. Xavier wants to own her, Ethan wants to keep her to save his reputation, and the $300 million debt is threatening to drown them all. In a world of billionaire power plays, Marissa is about to learn that revenge is a dish best served... in the CEO's bed.
9.5
Elsie was the Sutton family's perfect puppet, a sickly heiress locked away in a pristine manor and treated like fragile porcelain. Her only purpose was to be a pawn in her mother's corporate games.
Without warning, her mother ordered her to marry Duke Blake, a ruthless, cold-blooded billionaire known for destroying his rivals. Worse, her mother immediately handed over total control of Elsie's life to him, declaring she couldn't even step outside the gates without his explicit permission.
Desperate, Elsie met him and asked if she would be expected to perform wifely duties, praying for a marriage in name only.
"I have a very high sex drive."
He stated it bluntly, shattering her illusions. Yet, when he drove her into the city days later, a sudden swerve sent her tumbling directly into his lap. Instead of the desire he claimed to possess, his body went completely rigid. He violently shoved her away, slamming her hard against the passenger seat. His face was pale, his knuckles white, and he stared straight ahead with a look of absolute, terrifying revulsion.
Humiliation and sharp pain coiled in her chest. She couldn't understand. Why did he demand absolute control over her and boast about his desires, only to treat her accidental touch like a repulsive disease? Why did this all-powerful man secretly smell of hospital antiseptics? What exactly was the Sutton family forcing her to marry?
But she was no longer willing to be a lamb led to the slaughter. Thinking of the provocative black lace hidden behind her wardrobe's false wall, Elsie smiled coldly. She was going to find the fatal flaw in this ruthless billionaire's code, and use it to completely shatter her cage.
7.2
Two years ago, Amaya Bennett witnessed a murder.
A powerful man was killed in cold blood, right in front of her. She should have died that night too.
Instead, she woke up in a hospital with no memory of what happened. No faces, no names and no clues. Just fragments, blurred images that slip through her fingers every time she tries to hold on.
Now, Amaya lives a quiet life, piecing herself back together. She works part-time, avoids trouble, and stays invisible. Until she lands a job at Twilight Global.
A company owned by Jake Anderson, the cold and untouchable CEO whose father was murdered the same night Aria lost her memory. Jake spent years searching for the only witness. But she vanished without any trace. Or so he thought.
But somehow, they cross path again, working under his roof, completely unaware of the truth she carries.
The killer is still out there.
And when Amaya starts getting flashes of blood, a voice, a ring glinting under the dim light, the hunt begins again.
But this time, she's not alone. Because even before he realizes who she is... Jake has already started protecting her. In the most relentless and dangerous way.
9.3
For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future.
Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city."
Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed.
The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence.
Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."
8.9
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.