The Disguised Girl: Captivating The Billionaire King

The sharp blades of the scissors bit into the thick black hair.

Dasia stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror in the rundown Queens apartment. She didn't blink. The metal snipped again, and a heavy lock of hair that used to reach her waist hit the stained floor tiles with a soft thud. It was a brutal, uneven hack job. She picked up a razor from the edge of the sink and ruthlessly dragged it through the jagged ends, texturizing the choppy mess into a rough, wild style that screamed rebellion.

Her jawline, usually softened by the dark waves, now looked sharp and unforgiving under the flickering fluorescent light.

She dropped the scissors into the sink. Her fingers grabbed the roll of medical bandages.

She wrapped the coarse fabric around her chest. She pulled it tight. Too tight. Her ribs screamed in protest, and her lungs struggled to expand against the crushing pressure. She ignored the burning in her chest and pinned the bandage in place.

She pulled a massive black hoodie over her head. She yanked the hood up, casting a dark shadow over the upper half of her face. The girl in the mirror was gone.

A violent pounding rattled the thin wooden door of the apartment.

"Gerald! Get your ass out here!" Felix Adler's voice bled through the cheap wood, thick with panic and irritation. "We are going to miss the train to Penn Station!"

Dasia grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The hinges shrieked.

Felix stood in the hallway, his fist raised for another knock. He took one look at her and stumbled backward. His eyes widened, scanning her flat chest, the brutal haircut, and the dead, cold look in her eyes.

He sucked in a sharp breath. The air hissed through his teeth.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Felix demanded. His shock quickly morphed into a sneer. "Listen to me. You think changing your look is going to make people forget? You're still the trash who ruined his team."

Dasia's expression didn't shift. Her heart beat a slow, steady rhythm against the tight bandages.

She didn't waste a single word on the low-level assistant. She grabbed the worn canvas bag holding her custom keyboard, slung it over her shoulder, and walked forward.

Her shoulder slammed directly into Felix's chest.

Felix gasped, clutching his collarbone as she shoved past him without breaking her stride. He stared at her back for a second before scrambling down the narrow stairs after her, cursing under his breath.

The cab ride to Manhattan was suffocating.

Dasia sat in the back seat. She pulled a black surgical mask over her mouth and nose. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window and closed her eyes. The heater blew dry air against her face, but her fingers inside the hoodie pockets were ice cold.

The taxi slammed on its brakes outside Penn Station.

Dasia pushed the door open before the car fully stopped.