The Disguised Girl: Captivating The Billionaire King
Dasia's twin brother, Gerald, was an e-sports prodigy, the rising star of the Glory team.
But during a crucial moment, he was framed by his own teammates. They orchestrated a trap that completely destroyed his reputation and left his right hand brutally crushed.
Instead of getting him medical help, the club threw him out into the freezing rain, bleeding and disgraced. The manager labeled him useless trash and slapped him with a five-million-dollar termination fee to bleed him dry. Stripped of his pro status, the wealthy bullies at his prep school relentlessly targeted him, mocking his crippled hand and beating him down.
Dasia watched her twin brother cry in his room, his life and dreams shattered by the people he trusted. A violent, suffocating rage boiled in her chest. How could they smile while crushing his hand? Why should the victim be treated like a rotting piece of garbage while the perpetrators get rich and celebrated?
She didn't shed a single tear. She stood in front of the mirror, took a pair of scissors, and ruthlessly hacked off her waist-length hair. She wrapped her chest in coarse medical bandages until her ribs screamed, and pulled on his oversized black hoodie.
"Everything you took from him, I am going to take back with interest."
The girl in the mirror was gone. She was Gerald now. She secretly passed the brutal online tryouts for Glory's biggest rival, the elite Blackflame team, and signed their official contract. The revenge had officially begun.
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Chapter 5
The gang of bullies scrambled to their feet. They dragged their injured leader and sprinted out of the parking lot, terrified of the monster in the black hoodie.
The wind howled across the empty asphalt. The metallic smell of blood hung in the air.
Cody finally found his voice. He let out a wild whoop and ran toward Dasia, throwing his arms wide for a hug.
Dasia shifted her weight and lifted her heavy bag, using it as a shield. Cody slammed into the canvas instead of her chest.
"Holy shit!" Cody yelled, bouncing back. "That roundhouse kick! Did you secretly train with monks? What happened to you?"
Dasia ignored him. Her ears twitched.
Beneath the sound of Cody's yelling, she heard a faint, rhythmic sound. A soft sniffle. It was coming from the undercarriage of a black SUV parked three spots away.
Her muscles instantly tensed. She dropped her bag and moved silently toward the vehicle, her footsteps making zero noise on the pavement.
Cody slapped a hand over his mouth, terrified that another gang member was hiding.
Dasia crouched down and peered behind the massive rear tire.
It wasn't a thug with a weapon. It was a little boy, maybe seven years old. He wore a pristine, tailored uniform from the elite prep school across the street.
The boy was clutching a high-end handheld gaming console to his chest. Tears streamed down his chubby cheeks. He stared at Dasia with wide, terrified eyes.
The violent aura surrounding Dasia vanished. She let out a slow breath, releasing the tension in her shoulders.
The boy shrank back against the tire. The console slipped from his hands and clattered onto the dirty asphalt.
Dasia lowered herself onto one knee, bringing her eyes level with his so she wouldn't tower over him.
She reached out with her long, pale fingers and picked up the console. The screen showed a "Game Over" screen on a difficult boss fight.
Her thumbs flew over the buttons in a blur. Within ten seconds, the boss exploded into pixels. The "Victory" banner flashed.
She handed the console back to the boy.
"The bad guys are gone," Dasia said. She softened her raspy voice, making it as gentle as she could. "You're safe."
Landon stared at the victory screen, then looked up at Dasia's sharp, handsome face. The fear in his eyes melted away, replaced by absolute awe.
"Are you... are you a pro gamer?" Landon sniffled, wiping his nose with his expensive sleeve. "You fight better than my brother does in his games!"
Dasia's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second at the mention of pro gaming. She stood up.
"I'm not," Dasia said. "Go home. It's not safe here."
She turned to walk away.
A small, warm hand clamped down on the fabric of her hoodie.
Dasia stopped. She looked down. Landon was gripping her clothes like his life depended on it.
"I'm lost," Landon said, his lower lip trembling. "My driver went to get coffee and I wandered off. Can you take me to the rich school across the street? My brother is there."
Cody waved his hands frantically behind Dasia's back, mouthing, No! Don't go over there! The elite school was off-limits to public school kids.
Dasia looked at Landon's red, freezing nose. A sudden memory hit her-her brother Gerald, crying in his room after being bullied when they were kids.
A painful knot formed in her chest. The ice around her heart cracked just a little.
"Fine," Dasia sighed. "Stay close."
Landon cheered. He glued himself to her side, his small shoulder brushing against her leg.
Dasia turned to Cody. "Go home. Don't follow me."
Her tone left no room for argument. Cody nodded rapidly and sprinted away.
Dasia and Landon walked down the sidewalk toward the massive iron gates of the elite academy. The setting sun cast long, orange shadows behind them.
Landon didn't stop talking. He bragged about how amazing his older brother was, even though he had a terrible temper.
Dasia kept her hands in her pockets, offering only a low "Mm" in response.
As they crossed the street, a sports car sped around the corner, ignoring the crosswalk.
Dasia's arm shot out. She grabbed Landon by the collar and yanked him hard against her side, shielding him with her body as the car roared past.
Landon buried his face in her hoodie. He smelled the clean scent of laundry detergent. He looked up at Dasia's sharp jawline, completely convinced that this dark, scary boy was his guardian angel.
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7.2
Betrayed by her sister. Killed by her husband.
Reborn, Sarah returns with one goal-revenge.
This time, she won't be the fool.
And with the Knox, the most dangerous man by her side...
she'll ruin them all, and take back everything that belongs to her.
Promotional line: They killed me once. This time, I'll destroy them first.
7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
8.9
Seventeen-year-old Nina Storm has spent her life running from her tragic past, her dormant wolf, and the dreams of a mysterious man she can't escape.
Raised by her protective father after her mother's death, she has never stayed in one place long enough to call it home. But everything changed when they return to their home, the Moonlight Pack.
Nina discovers that her mate is Zane, the pack's Alpha... a bond that defies werewolf laws and the pack's expectations. Their undeniable attraction is dangerous, and their bond threatens to disrupt the fragile balance of power within the pack.
When an attack on the pack shatters her world, Nina loses everything, including her life. But death isn't the end.
Reborn, her dormant wolf awakens giving her a newfound strength and powers, Nina must navigate a world of betrayal, love, and vengeance as she unravels the truth about her family, her mate bond, and the danger threatening to destroy everything she holds dear.
8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.