Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

IMPORTANT NOTICE- I SPEAK WITH MY EDITOR ABOUT THE POOR RESPONSE TO THE BOOK. The readers here read either a Chinese character book (translation work) or a Western character book. Unfortunately, mine is mixed, catering to none. She suggested me to change the characters and pick a side. So from now onwards, Elena’s character is Mu Yiren. Abella is Mu Ning. And Luke is Sun Kai. These three important changes. I’m sorry for the abrupt change and hope you will understand me. It was actually demotivating when only 2-3 people were reading the entire day whereas it takes me six hours to write.

I have changed the character names in other Chapters as well. Elena/Yiren’s stepfather will continue to be a Spanish character and therefore she knows the language. If you have any confusion or questions regarding the book, feel free to drop me a message in the comment section. Also, if you spot any mistake you can highlight it in a paragraph and I’ll rectify it.

(Lastly. I made sure you guyz don’t have to pay for this notice. I have written everything under the word count.)

*****

YIREN (PART 1)

Bang.

The sound ricochets through the room, echoing off the grimy walls. My heart slams against my chest, everything around me going still. I watch in frozen horror as his eyes widen, a neat hole punctured between them. Blood trickles down. Then, he crumples, his body collapsing heavily onto mine, lifeless.

"When I say something, you listen," Cyrus’s voice pierces through the deafening silence. He stands over me, gun still smoking. He nudges the body off me with his boot, barely looking down.

The man is dragged away like a piece of garbage, and Cyrus reaches out to touch my bleeding nose. I jerk back, a grunt escaping my lips at the sting. It feels like my nose is on fire, either broken or just swollen from the repeated blows to my face. I can’t tell anymore, but the pain is sharp, relentless.

Cyrus gives me an amused smile, a sick pleasure gleaming in his eyes at my discomfort. He motions to the burly men beside him, and they yank me to my feet, dragging me over to a table where my phone lies in the center, tauntingly close. My immediate instinct is to grab it, call for help, but my hands are still bound.

A sharp snip cuts through the duct tape around my wrists, and my shoulders ache as I move my hands forward, rubbing at the raw, angry skin.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, every word sending fresh pain through my swollen nose. Damn it, it hurts.

Cyrus’s laugh is low, eerie. I glance at him over my shoulder, my eyes flicking to the phone again, but I know better than to reach for it.

"Come on, Yiren," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "What else would I want from you?"

"To design your house, maybe?" I snap, anger boiling inside me for being stupid enough to fall into his trap. "Or should I guess what else is running through that pig brain of yours?"

Cyrus sits down opposite me, setting his gun on the table. He doesn’t even flinch at my insult, just taps on his phone before holding it up to my face.

"Do you know who this man is?"

I glance at the screen, heart pounding. It’s a picture of Jun and me from the charity gala, with his hands on my back. My stomach twists. I meet Cyrus’s eyes, keeping my face as neutral as possible. "Feng Junjie. Owner of Feng Enterprises."

Cyrus smirks, turning the phone back toward himself. "Naive of you to think I was asking for his name."

I remain silent, the pieces clicking together in my mind. He wants to use me to extort money from Jun. That’s why I’m here. Of course.

"Call him," Cyrus says, pushing my phone to me.

I eye the phone, the temptation to call the cops tugging at me. But he’s not dumb. He wouldn’t let me do that.

I unlock the phone. "Sure," I say with false calmness. "Give me his number."

His hand slams down on mine, crushing it between the phone and his. "Don’t play games with me, girl. Call your boyfriend."

I give him a wide grin, despite the fear gnawing at me. "Jun? My boyfriend? You think I’d be running around doing small projects if I had him backing me up?"

His frown deepens, and for a split second, I know I’ve rattled him. He pulls my phone from my hands, scrolling through my contact list. I peek over, watching as he searches, but he won’t find anything. Jun’s number is saved under "Uncle Juju," and with me having blocked him recently, it won’t show up anywhere obvious.

But then, Cyrus turns the phone to me, his eyes narrowing as he lists off names. "Meimei. Suyin. Zian..."

Shit.

"For a moment, you almost fooled me," he sneers, sliding the phone back toward me. "Now be a good girl and call your boyfriend."

Never.

"He’s going to pay me 1 billion dollars in bitcoin,"

Keep dreaming , pig

"And arrange a safe exit for me and my men from the country."

Also not happening. You are going to rot in prison. Or hopefully six feet under.

"And," Cyrus adds with a sick grin, "he’ll give me the Feng family diamond."

The Feng family diamond? Now I know he’s bluffing. The only story I’ve heard about that diamond was from my mom, and she said it was stolen years ago. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

My eyes dart around the room. There are two men guarding the door, two more behind me, and at least four others spread out. There’s no way I can fight my way out of this.

"Don’t even think about trying to run," Cyrus warns. "My men won’t kill you, but there are a hundred other things they could do to you."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

Cyrus stabs a knife into the table, landing it just between my fingers. I jerk back, startled, my pulse spiking. "This time I missed," he says with a sinister smile, dragging the knife across my skin. "Call him."

I exhale slowly, pretending to give up, while my feet work tirelessly to loosen the ropes still binding them. I punch the first number on my phone.

"If it’s the wrong number," Cyrus says, his tone deadly, "or Feng Junjie doesn’t pick up, I’ll put a bullet in your knee. Then we’ll try again. Be smart."

I glance down at the gun, then back at the men surrounding me.

I scream at the top of my lungs at the exit door, "NO! NO! DON’T KILL HIM!". Everyone turns to look, momentarily distracted. I grab the gun from the table, adrenaline pumping through my veins. With one quick motion, I flip the table over, sending Cyrus stumbling back in his chair.

I point the gun at the men standing behind me, fingers trembling as I pull the trigger blindly.

Click.

Nothing.

Click. Click.

The trigger echoes hollowly in the room, mocking me.

Oh fk.