Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Chapter 2

Word Count: 799 | Released on: Today at 15:32

lent shaking in her hands to stop. She pushed he

rack, her line of sight crossed the narrow hall

raft Mac & Cheese. His movements were efficient,

r mind superimposed the image of him in a bespoke suit, stepping o

ablished her absolute priority: save enough money an

and grabbed the original owner's phone. She nee

bills and credit card overdraft alerts popped up

e original owner and Cyrus. The screen

e ar

oney to me

a useles

. She aggressively hit the lock butto

rom the kitchen. Cyrus poured the macaroni into

of Aliya sneaking around the living room. He

ly shoved the phone into her pajama pocket and f

what to do with her hands. She finally settled

ni into two chipped porcelain bowls. Through the rising

anded it to Aliya. His movements wer

gesture. As she took the bowl, her fingertips accident

een burned. His brows locked together. He

ened. She immediate

he said, her voice ba

e night completely shattered Cyrus's cogn

pale, makeup-free face. He was searching

helin-star meal. The hot, heavy calories hit her empty stomach, providing a desperate, small burst of energy. The lingering dizziness from

food was garbage and would rather starve than touch it

r and sat down. He threw ou

throw up if you ever a

coughed violently, her cheek

glass of water, but his hand stopped halfway.

er breath. Her brain s

he forced a dry laugh. "Every

out a low scoff. He didn't press further. He

ear the dishes. Aliya sprang up like a coiled sprin

em!" she anno

n full blast, desperately trying to use the sound of r

back as she scrubbed the bowls. A complex emotion flashed t

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.”