Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Chapter 6

Word Count: 683 | Released on: Today at 15:32

ens logistics warehouse roared

several heavy cardboard boxes onto a wooden pallet. The thick mus

essed a ruthless, calculated efficiency. He looked entirely

sorting line, stood a few yards away. Her eyes

t-shirt. Holding two iced Americanos, she

space just as he turned around. She pushed a plastic cup to

You work faster than

eyes swept over the iced co

itation in Elaine's eyes. The cheap att

ct physical boundary. His voice was entirely dev

ing out to touch his forearm. "Don't be so cold. Let's g

her hand completely. He picked up his bar

ed her without looking up. "I

h. "Just how much of a gold-digger is that girlfriend of you

rus's head snapped back around. The temperatur

deep territorial instincts absolutely forbade an

A crushing, suffocating aura of a

business," he ordered, his voice l

ry dominance radiating from a mere warehouse worker, she stumble

t the collar of his uniform, a namel

t of his pocket and ch

least ten times to check up on him, or texted him compl

was completely blank

vior caused Cyrus's jaw to lock tight. When

ver Aliya's name for several seconds. He ul

his movements were noticeably more violent now,

was standing in front of the bathroom

from the original owner's closet. She was currently us

owner's daily "check-in" harassment. Her brain

arehouse foreman

ck. He ignored the chatter of his coworkers

as going home early. He needed to see exactly what

Chapter End

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Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

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“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.”