Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Chapter 3

Word Count: 711 | Released on: Today at 15:32

l. She slipped out of the kitchen and s

enough room for two people. Panic alarms blared in her hea

om acted like a ticking timer. She needed a f

eavily worn tracksuit. It covered her from neck to ankle, pr

essing her body flush against the wall. She oc

owing her breathing. She deployed the o

Aliya's heart shot up into her throa

arm, humid air rolled out. Cyrus's he

towel wrapped around his waist. Drops of water slid

back of the woman who was practically tryi

ycheck and late hours, she would be clinging to him, d

e laundry basket in the corner of the room. He bent d

underwear, his brow twitched subtly, as if he had touched something contaminated. He pinched the f

ead. He picked up the basket and walked out

t a massive breath. He had gone down

ief, but she knew it was onl

ed back into the room, bringing with him the fai

r rigid, fake-sleeping posture. She

wardrobe. He turned off the main overhead lig

wn on the other side of the bed. His overwhelming masculi

yrus lay flat on his back, his hands resting on his

-sharp. He could clearly distinguish the

A cold, mocking smirk pulle

rus suddenly rolled ov

invisible boundary. His fingertips hove

Every hair on her body stood up. Her b

the cheap fabric of her tracksuit shou

plit second. She tried to hide it, but Cyrus

eyes deepened. He p

velly voice sliced through the

d catastrophically failed. She slowly opened her eyes and tu

Chapter End

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Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Reel Life Romance

“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.”