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 2
The silent challenge in Dasia's eyes made Carlton freeze. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
Before he could speak, his personal assistant, Alex Vance, shoved past the bodyguards. Alex threw his arms out, shielding Carlton like Dasia was holding a loaded gun.
"Are you out of your mind?" Alex barked, pointing a manicured finger at Dasia's face. "You do not touch him. I will have you sued for harassment so fast your head will spin."
Felix scrambled forward, his face pale and slick with sweat. He grabbed Dasia's wrist with trembling fingers.
"Apologize!" Felix hissed, his voice cracking. "Get on your knees and apologize right now before you ruin us both!"
Dasia's stomach twisted with revulsion at the physical contact. She ripped her arm out of Felix's grip. The violent motion sent Felix stumbling backward.
She turned her gaze to Alex.
"Get lost," Dasia said.
Her voice was low, raspy, and completely devoid of emotion. The single word sliced through the noise of the station.
The fans went feral. A neon green glow stick flew over the security line and slammed into Dasia's shoulder blade. It bounced off with a dull thud.
Dasia didn't blink. She didn't even rub her shoulder.
Carlton watched her. His blue eyes narrowed. The boy's spine was perfectly straight. There was no trembling, no frantic apologies. Just a cold, dead stare.
Alex's face turned purple. He waved frantically at the station security guards standing nearby.
"Get this psycho out of here!" Alex yelled.
Three massive security guards pushed through the crowd. They unclipped their radios, forming a tight circle around Dasia and Felix.
Felix dropped to a crouch, burying his face in his hands. He was hyperventilating.
One of the guards reached out a thick hand to grab Dasia's shoulder.
Dasia's eyes went pitch black. Her left foot slid back half an inch against the tile. Her weight shifted. Her muscles coiled tight, preparing to snap the guard's wrist the second he made contact.
"Stop."
The word was spoken quietly, but it carried absolute authority.
Carlton raised one hand. His long index finger twitched in the air.
Alex immediately grabbed the security guard's arm, pulling him back. The guards stepped away, waiting for the billionaire captain's orders.
Carlton took a slow step forward. His leather shoes clicked sharply against the tile. He stopped less than two feet from Dasia.
The sheer physical presence of the man was overwhelming. Dasia had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. The scent of mint and cedar grew stronger, suffocating her.
Carlton leaned down slightly. He studied the dark, violent eyes glaring back at him over the black mask.
"Whoever paid you to put on this little show," Carlton said, his voice a low, mocking rumble, "tell them your acting is pathetic."
A tiny, humorless laugh escaped Dasia's throat.
She raised her right hand. She pressed her index finger directly against the center of Carlton's chest, right on the expensive fabric of his coat.
She shoved. Hard.
Carlton hadn't expected the strike. His body rocked backward on his heels. A flash of pure shock widened his eyes.
"Keep your dogs on a leash," Dasia said. Her voice was like crushed ice. "Before they bite the wrong person."
The entire station went dead silent. Alex stopped breathing.
Carlton looked down at his chest, then back up at Dasia. A dark, dangerous smile slowly curved his lips.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vintage silver Zippo lighter. His thumb flicked the lid open. Clink. He snapped it shut. Clink.
The metallic sound was sharp and rhythmic.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the station intercom crackled to life. A loud voice announced the final boarding call for the express train to Boston.
Alex checked his watch, panic replacing his anger. "King, we have to go. Now. Don't waste time on this trash."
Carlton's thumb rested on the lighter. He stared at Dasia for three long seconds, burning her eyes into his memory.
He turned around without another word. The bodyguards formed a wedge, and the Blackflame team disappeared down the VIP corridor.
The crowd slowly dispersed, muttering insults. Felix collapsed onto a wooden bench, gasping for air like a dying fish.
Dasia adjusted the collar of her hoodie. She looked down at the floor.
A glossy poster of Carlton Gordon lay on the dirty tiles, dropped by a fleeing fan. Dasia stared at his arrogant, printed face.
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9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
9.7
I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."
7.3
Clara came home from a fourteen-hour board meeting to the sound of a piercing scream in the playroom.
When she rushed in, she found her husband, Chadwick, kneeling on the floor in a panic.
But he wasn't looking at their five-year-old son, Leo, who had a massive bleeding welt on his forehead.
Instead, Chadwick was trembling as he held the nanny's daughter, Autumn, who barely had a microscopic scratch.
"She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick snapped, carrying the nanny's daughter away and leaving his bleeding son behind.
From that moment, the nightmare only escalated.
Chadwick ordered Clara to cook a three-hour meal for the nanny's kid, threw away Leo's favorite toys because Autumn sneezed, and even secretly took the nanny and her daughter on Leo's promised Disney trip.
The final humiliation came at the Met Gala.
Right before their sponsor speech, Chadwick received a frantic call from the nanny claiming Autumn was having a panic attack.
He abandoned Clara in front of hundreds of flashing cameras, sprinting out of the ballroom.
Clara stood completely alone, the humiliation eating through her veins like acid.
She couldn't understand how a father could call the nanny's kid his "little princess" while watching his own son cry.
Why was he treating his own flesh and blood like garbage just to play savior to another woman's child?
Suddenly, the blinding camera flashes were blocked by a massive shadow.
Erasmo Chase, the heir to New York's largest financial dynasty, stepped out of the darkness and shielded her.
"A man like that is unworthy of your grief, Ms. Best," he whispered, pressing a silk handkerchief into her trembling hand.
Looking at the sharp profile of the powerful man beside her, Clara's shock hardened into a lethal, cold fury.
She was going to dump her family's shares, crash the board, and make Chadwick lose absolutely everything.
9.5
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.
9.6
When a global anomaly awakens dormant powers within them, a neuroscientist, a physicist, and an artist discover they are connected by a force that defies time itself. Mert sees the memories of strangers. Elena witnesses the fabric of reality crack. Kai paints symbols from a past he never knew. Thrown together by fate, they are not alone. Across the globe, others are awakening too-gifted with extraordinary abilities. But they are not the only ones. A powerful cabal-a ruthless financier, a tech mogul, and a charismatic influencer-sees the anomaly not as a warning, but as a weapon. Their ambition shatters the timeline, scattering the group across history: from the smog-choked streets of Victorian London to a transhumanist future, and into a terrifying parallel present. Broken into three teams, the group must hunt their enemies through time itself. To survive, they must master their new powers and forge bonds of love and loyalty strong enough to bend the laws of physics. Their final battle will not be fought in any single era, but at the crossroads of all realities, where the key to existence-the very heart of time-is at stake.