My Online Lover is A Ruthless Billionaire

The flames were hot enough to melt her skin, but the betrayal hurt even more.

"Please... help me!"

Dayla Stanford pounded against the locked door, her fingers bleeding as smoke filled her lungs. The fire spread across the room, devouring the curtains, furniture, and everything she had ever owned.

Outside, two familiar figures watched.

Her fiancé, Adrian Cole, stood beside her stepsister, Vanessa Stanford. The same man who had promised to love her forever now looked at her with cold indifference. The same sister who had cried in her arms pretended not to hear her screams.

"Adrian!" Dayla screamed. "Please! We can talk about this! I'll give you whatever you want!"

Adrian adjusted his expensive watch.

"That's the problem, Dayla. You always think everything can be solved by talking."

Vanessa laughed softly.

"Don't waste your breath, sister. Nobody is coming to save you."

Dayla stared at her, struggling to understand.

"Vanessa... why?"

"Why?" Vanessa repeated, stepping closer to the door. "Because you have everything! Father's properties, his money, his reputation. Even after his death, you still get everything while I have to stand in your shadow."

"I never stopped you from having anything!"

"Really?" Vanessa's smile turned cruel. "Then why does everyone call you the Stanford heiress? Why does everyone respect you? Why is Adrian engaged to you instead of me?"

Dayla's heart shattered.

She turned toward Adrian, hoping-desperately hoping-that he would deny it all.

"Tell her she's lying," she whispered. "Adrian, please."

He finally looked at her.

"I was never in love with you."

The words hurt more than the burning air.

"What?"

"I wanted your father's properties. Marrying you was the easiest way to get them. Unfortunately, you kept refusing to sign the documents."

Dayla remembered the papers he had asked her to sign. He had called them routine business agreements. She had trusted him enough to consider signing without questioning everything.

Her knees weakened.

"You were going to marry me..."

"For your money," he interrupted. "Don't make it sound romantic."

Vanessa slipped her hand into his.

Dayla felt sick.

"How long?" she asked.

Adrian shrugged. "Long enough."

"And my brother? What happens to him?"

For the first time, Adrian's expression changed.

"Your brother will be fine as long as he stays out of our business."

"Don't you dare touch him!"

Dayla threw herself against the door, but the flames surged higher.

Vanessa stepped back.

"Goodbye, Dayla."

The door closed.

Dayla screamed until her voice disappeared beneath the crackling fire.

As the smoke swallowed the room, one thought remained in her mind.

I trusted the wrong people.

Then another face appeared in her fading consciousness.

A man she had never met.

A man who had listened to her through countless late-night conversations.

Her anonymous online friend.

Luthur: If the world ever turns against you, remember that you can still choose who you become.

Dayla had laughed when he sent those words. She had told him that life was not a movie and that people like them did not get second chances.

Now, with death closing around her, she wished she had asked him more questions.

She wished she had known his real name.

She wished she had told him how much he meant to her.

Her phone lay several feet away, its screen cracked but still glowing.

With the last strength in her body, she dragged herself toward it.

Her fingers trembled as she opened their conversation.

Dayla: I'm scared.

The message remained unsent.

The screen went black.

And Dayla Stanford died.

Three days later, rain poured over the cemetery.

A single black car stood beside a freshly covered grave. There were no family members, no friends, and no flowers from the man who had promised to marry her.

Only one man stood beneath a black umbrella.

Luthur Chris.

At thirty-two, he was one of the most powerful billionaires in the country. Business rivals feared him, politicians sought his favor, and even the wealthiest families thought twice before crossing him.

Yet none of his money could change the name engraved on the gravestone before him.

DAYLA STANFORD.

He stared at it, his jaw clenched.

"Why didn't you call me?" he whispered.

He had discovered her death too late. By the time his people uncovered what had happened, Dayla had already been buried.

He had investigated her fiancé, her stepsister, and every person who might have benefited from her death.

What he found made his blood run cold.

They had taken her life for money.

And he had failed to protect the only woman who had ever made him feel human.

Luthur placed a white rose on her grave.

"You told me once that you were afraid of dying without anyone remembering you."

His voice broke.

"I remember you, Dayla. I always will."

He remained there until the rain soaked through his coat.

Before leaving, he made a promise.

The people responsible would lose everything they had stolen from her.

But revenge could not bring Dayla back.

And that was the one thing Luthur Chris could never forgive the world for taking from him.

One year earlier

"Miss Stanford, are you planning to sleep through your entire life?"

Dayla opened her eyes.

A familiar voice sounded beside her bed.

She frowned, expecting to see smoke, fire, or the terrible faces of Adrian and Vanessa.

Instead, sunlight spilled through the curtains of her bedroom.

Her maid, Grace, stood beside the bed with a tray of breakfast.

"Miss Dayla, you're going to be late for your appointment."

Dayla stared at her.

Grace was alive.

The room was untouched.

Her hands were smooth, without burns or scars.

She looked around frantically before grabbing her phone from the bedside table.

The date on the screen made her blood run cold.

One year before her death.

"No..." she whispered.

Grace placed the tray down.

"Are you all right?"

Dayla looked at her hands again. Then she began to cry.

She was alive.

Somehow, impossibly, she had returned to the past.

Her phone vibrated.

A message appeared from Adrian.

Adrian: Good morning, sweetheart. Don't forget we're having dinner with Vanessa tonight. I have something important to discuss with you.

Dayla stared at the message until her tears stopped.

In her first life, she would have smiled.

She would have hurried to get dressed, excited to spend time with the man she believed she would marry.

Now, she remembered the flames.

She remembered his cold eyes.

She remembered Vanessa's smile.

Slowly, Dayla deleted the message without replying.

"Miss Dayla?" Grace asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

Dayla lifted her head.

"Nothing," she answered, wiping her tears. "I've just remembered something important."

"What is it?"

Dayla looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The frightened woman who had died in that burning room was gone.

In her place sat a woman who knew exactly what her enemies were capable of.

"My wedding," she said quietly. "I think I need to reconsider it."

Her phone vibrated again.

This time, the message came from her anonymous online friend.

Unknown: Good morning, Day. Did you sleep well?

Dayla froze.

She had almost forgotten.

In her first life, this man had been her only comfort. She had told him about her fears, her dreams, and the loneliness she never admitted to anyone else.

But she had never known his real identity.

She typed slowly.

Dayla: Can I ask you something?

His reply came almost immediately.

Unknown: Anything.

Dayla stared at the screen.

Dayla: If someone you trusted betrayed you, would you forgive them?

For several seconds, there was no response.

Then her phone vibrated.

Unknown: It depends on what they did.

Dayla swallowed.

Dayla: What if they took everything from you?

This time, the reply came faster.

Unknown: Then I would make sure they never had the chance to do it again.

Dayla read the message twice.

For the first time since waking up, she smiled.

It was a small, cold smile.

Dayla: I think I'll do exactly that.

Across the city, inside a luxurious penthouse office, Luthur Chris stared at the message on his screen.

His assistant stood before his desk, waiting for instructions.

"Sir, your nine o'clock meeting is ready."

Luthur ignored him.

Something about Dayla's messages felt different that morning. Her words carried a pain he couldn't explain.

He typed another message.

Unknown: Day, whatever happened, you can tell me.

Dayla looked at the screen for a long moment.

Then she closed the conversation.

Not yet.

This time, she would not tell anyone everything.

Not even the man she trusted most.

She had one year to change her fate.

One year to protect her brother.

One year to destroy the people who had murdered her.

And this time, when the flames came, she would make sure her enemies were the ones left burning.