Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian
Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box.
She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her.
The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death.
"This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm.
Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer.
How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her.
Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind.
"Poison! She's trying to kill me!"
Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist.
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Chapter 2
The interior of the Maybach was a cocoon of leather and climate-controlled heat, but Kenzie felt like she was burning from the inside out. The shivering had returned with a vengeance, her tiny body convulsing against the soft cashmere blanket Devin had wrapped her in. Her skin felt tight, stretched over a furnace, yet her teeth wouldn't stop chattering.
Devin sat beside her, his posture rigid. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since they pulled out of the alley. He could hear the ragged, shallow breaths she took, and with every breath, the voice in his head grew fainter, more fragmented.
"So... hot..." The thought drifted into his mind, weak and disoriented. "Why is it so cold if I'm burning?"
Devin's jaw clenched. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. It was like touching a stovetop. The fever was spiking dangerously fast.
"Drive faster," he ordered Arthur from the back seat.
The Maybach lurched forward, weaving through the Manhattan traffic. Thirty minutes later, they screeched to a halt under the bright white awning of a private hospital on the Upper East Side. Arthur was out in a second, pulling the door open.
Devin stepped out into the rain, holding the baby against his chest like a football. He strode through the sliding glass doors of the ER, his shoes slapping against the linoleum. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit Kenzie's nose, making her stomach heave.
"I need a pediatrician!" Devin's voice cut through the quiet hum of the emergency room, loud enough to make a nurse drop her clipboard. "Now!"
A doctor in rumpled blue scrubs looked up from the nurses' station. Desiree Dillon looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She grabbed a chart and walked over, her face set in a bored, annoyed expression.
"Sir, you can't just-" Desiree started, then caught sight of Devin's face. The sharp jawline, the expensive coat, the aura of pure, unadulterated wealth. Her demeanor shifted instantly. The annoyance vanished, replaced by a sickeningly sweet, professional smile. "Oh, Mr. Ayers. Of course. Bring her this way."
Kenzie forced her eyes open at the sound of that voice. The fever made everything swim, but the name tag on the blue scrubs was clear. Dr. D. Dillon.
A jolt of pure, undiluted terror shot through her, stronger than the fever. That voice. That face. A primal sense of danger, rooted in a pain so deep it had followed her across death itself, screamed at her to flee. She didn't know how the universe had brought them together again, but the cold, calculating glint in those blue eyes was a nightmare she recognized instantly.
The heart monitor clipped to Kenzie's toe suddenly screamed. The line on the screen spiked into a jagged peak, the rapid beeping filling the room.
"She's tachycardic," Desiree said, her voice smooth as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "Probably just a panic response to the fever. Let's get her settled."
Desiree leaned over the gurney, her face inches from Kenzie's. Kenzie stared into those eyes, pushing past her own fear, and reached out with her mind. The telepathy was erratic, fueled by adrenaline, but she caught it. The surface thoughts leaking from Desiree's brain like toxic sludge.
"Another screaming brat," Desiree was thinking as she turned her back to Devin. "Rich daddy probably just wants a quick fix so he can go back to his meeting. I'll just knock her out. Shut her up."
Desiree walked to the medication cabinet. She didn't even look at the dosage chart. She pulled out a vial of Diazepam and a syringe. She drew the liquid, her thumb pushing the plunger up. She didn't measure. She just filled it.
"Poison..." Kenzie's mind shrieked, the thought blasting into Devin's head like a jagged, broken siren, weak but desperate. "Too much... needle... DANGER! Stop her!"
Devin, who had been listening to the hospital administrator drone on about protocols, froze. The fragmented voice in his head was raw with a primal panic. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Desiree's back.
Desiree was humming softly. She pulled the syringe out of the vial and turned back to the gurney. The needle glinted under the harsh surgical lights. She didn't check the baby's weight. She didn't check the label again. She just reached for the IV port in Kenzie's arm.
"Lethal..." Kenzie screamed internally, her physical body paralyzed by the fever and terror, her mental transmission fracturing under the strain. "Overdose... she's trying to kill me!"
The chaotic burst of words echoed in Devin's skull, but the intent was crystal clear. His eyes narrowed to slits. He moved. He didn't walk; he closed the distance in two long, predatory strides, his shoes making no sound on the floor.
Desiree was smiling gently at the baby, the needle inches from the IV line. "There, there, little one. This will make it all go away."
Devin's hand shot out. His fingers closed around Desiree's wrist like a steel trap. The grip was brutal, crushing the delicate bones together.
Desiree gasped, her eyes going wide. The syringe shook in her trembling hand. She looked up at Devin, her face pale. "Mr. Ayers? What are you-"
"What are you doing?" Devin asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the menace in it made the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.
Desiree tried to twist her arm free, but his grip was iron. She forced a trembling smile. "I'm just administering a mild sedative, sir. Her heart rate is too high. It's standard procedure."
"Standard?" Kenzie thought, her mind a mix of rage and relief. "Zero point one milligrams per kilogram is standard, you psycho. That syringe has at least five milligrams in it!"
Devin's gaze flicked to the syringe. He didn't let go of Desiree's wrist. With his other hand, he plucked the syringe from her trembling fingers. He held it up to the overhead light.
The clear liquid sat at the 5mg mark. The evidence was irrefutable.
Devin's hand flicked. He threw Desiree backward. She stumbled, her back hitting the metal instrument tray with a deafening crash. Trays and scissors clattered to the floor.
The entire ER fell silent. Nurses froze. The administrator stopped mid-sentence.
Kenzie lay on the gurney, her heart still racing, but the panic was fading. She looked at Devin's broad back, at the rigid set of his shoulders. A sense of profound, unexpected safety washed over her.
"That was close," she thought, a weary satisfaction coloring her internal voice. "This guy is ruthless. I like him."
Devin heard the thought. The tight line of his shoulders eased just a fraction. He turned around, his cold expression softening for a split second as he looked at the tiny, feverish baby. He reached out and gathered her back into his arms, wrapping the blanket tight around her shivering body.
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8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
9.2
For four years, I was the Silvercrest Pack's biggest joke—a scentless, wolfless Omega who somehow became the Alpha's Luna.
I thought I was just naturally defective, until our fourth anniversary, when I overheard my husband Adrian talking to his Beta.
"I’ve been having the kitchens slip a silver-based compound into her meals since the day I marked her."
He confessed the poison was meant to suppress my inner wolf and keep my womb permanently barren. He only married me as a power play to make his highborn mistress, Seraphina, jealous. While I wept over my empty cradle and apologized to his family for my broken body, he was using pack funds to buy her custom luxury goods, tossing me the leftover wrapping paper. When I finally confronted him about the silver and tried to leave, he flew into a feral rage. He violently smashed my head against the marble vanity, leaving me bleeding on the floor, and locked the bedroom door behind him.
I lay there in the cold, staring at the pool of my own blood. My entire life, my endless pain, and my unborn pups were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke to the man who was supposed to be my Mate.
But Adrian didn't know I wasn't just a brainless Omega.
I wiped the blood from my face, climbed down the balcony trellis into the freezing rain, and pulled out an encrypted burner phone.
"The cage is broken. Initiate Phase Two."
7.7
Rory stood on the witness stand, forced by her father into an impossible choice: secure her dying mother's medical funding, or save her innocent boyfriend.
She looked Corbin right in his trusting eyes and lied to the court, testifying that he was the one driving the car during the fatal hit-and-run, sending him to a maximum-security prison for ten years.
The betrayal destroyed him. Corbin's father died of a heart attack upon hearing the guilty verdict. Six years later, Corbin returned as a ruthless billionaire and systematically blacklisted Rory from every job in the city. He cornered her into singing at his private club, humiliating her by forcing her to drink scotch—knowing she was severely allergic—and making her throw away his promise ring just to earn a stack of cash.
"Remember this moment. This is only the beginning."
She endured his cruel revenge because she was hiding a desperate secret: she was raising his five-year-old daughter, Willa. But when Willa's congenital heart defect suddenly worsened, requiring an impossible one-million-dollar surgery, Rory realized Corbin's calculated blockade had left her completely trapped with no way to save their child.
Staring at the sterile hospital walls, the last shred of her guilt burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He had destroyed her career and backed her into a corner, but he was the only one with the money. Wiping her tears, Rory turned and headed straight for Vance Tower.
9.7
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."
7.7
Kaitlynn's mother forced her to entertain Jorden, a cold, overbearing professional esports captain who she only remembered as an annoying, mud-eating brat.
She despised him in real life, saving all her admiration for "Hex," the god-tier player in her favorite MMO who constantly spoiled her with thousand-dollar rare items.
Trapped in Jorden's luxury car during a forced errand, Kaitlynn couldn't stand his arrogant attitude anymore.
She proudly bragged about Hex, claiming her online master's mechanics were vastly superior to any so-called professional player.
"He's the absolute ceiling," she declared defensively. "He's way better than you."
Jorden just smirked, his dark eyes dismissing her entirely.
"Sounds like a nerd living in his mom's basement."
Kaitlynn was furious, ready to scream at him, until his work phone suddenly rang.
Right in front of her, he casually commanded his team using an extremely rare, high-tier strategy exclusive to her game.
Kaitlynn's mind completely short-circuited.
Why would the captain of North America's biggest esports organization know Aethelgard's secret meta?
And why did his commanding, ruthless voice suddenly sound exactly like the low, comforting chuckle that echoed in her headset every night?
As Jorden's gaze dropped to the rare assassin class keychain resting on her lap, a wicked, knowing smile flashed across his face.
The untouchable esports tyrant had just realized his rebellious real-life enemy was his deeply pampered in-game student, and her peaceful double life was about to end.