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.
Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian Chapter 1
Rain hammered the cardboard, each drop sounding like a fist against the thin, damp walls. Kenzie opened her eyes. The world was a blur of gray and neon, streaked with water. Cold. It was so cold her bones ached, a deep, hollow throb that echoed through her entire body. She tried to sit up, to push herself out of the freezing puddle soaking through the cardboard bottom.
Her arms flailed. Short, chubby, and weak. Her fingers were tiny, the nails barely there, tinged a frightening shade of blue.
Panic, sharp and acidic, surged up her throat. She looked down at legs that wouldn’t respond, at a torso no bigger than a loaf of bread. This wasn’t her body. This wasn’t the body of the leader of the Aegis Alliance. She tried to command her muscles to coil, to spring, to fight. The most she managed was a pathetic wiggle that sent her sliding deeper into the wet cardboard.
Hypothermia. The clinical part of her brain screamed the diagnosis. Her core temperature was dropping fast. The shivering had stopped, which meant she was in the danger zone. She needed heat. She needed shelter. She needed to get out of this box before the cold stopped her heart for a second time.
Then she heard it. Footsteps. Heavy, measured, striking the pavement with a rhythm that spoke of absolute authority. The sound of expensive leather meeting wet asphalt.
Kenzie forced her head to turn. Through a gap in the flattened flaps of the box, she saw them. A pair of shoes. Black, polished to a mirror shine even in the rain, stepping deliberately through the puddles. John Lobb. Custom-made. The shoes of a man who owned the ground he walked on.
A survival instinct older than her current body kicked in. This was her only chance. She couldn’t fight, she couldn’t run. All she had was this one weapon. She drew in a breath, filling lungs that felt ridiculously small, and let out a wail.
It wasn’t the weak cry of a sick infant. It was a piercing, desperate scream that tore through the noise of the rain, designed to hit the eardrums like a shockwave.
The footsteps stopped.
“Sir.” A deeper voice, rough and impatient. “I’ll move it. Probably just a stray cat.”
A shadow fell over the box. A heavy boot reared back, ready to kick the cardboard aside.
No. Kenzie gasped, cutting off the wail instantly. In the sudden silence, she let out a tiny, choked sob. A sound of pure, helpless suffocation. It was a calculated move, hitting the exact frequency that triggered the deepest, most primal instinct in a human brain.
The boot hovered in the air.
“Wait.” The second voice was different. Low, cold, and commanding. The voice of the man in the John Lobb shoes.
The boot lowered. The shadow retreated.
Kenzie held her breath. The rain drummed on. Then, the box moved. Fingers-long, encased in black leather-gripped the wet cardboard and tore it open like paper.
The neon light from the streetlamp flooded in. Kenzie blinked against the glare, looking up at the man towering over her. Rain streamed down his face, plastering dark hair to his forehead. His eyes were a pale, icy gray, staring down at her with a look that could freeze hell over twice. He wore a dark wool coat that looked like it cost more than a house.
She stared back. She didn’t cry. She didn’t cower. She met that lethal gaze with the fierce, unyielding intensity of a woman who had commanded armies. For a second, the air between them crackled. The man’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine shock breaking through the icy mask.
“Sir, we need to go,” the bigger man-Arthur-grunted from behind him. “The car is waiting.”
The gray-eyed man ignored him. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled off his right leather glove. He stuffed it into his coat pocket and knelt down. The knees of his tailored pants sank into the dirty puddle. He reached out, his bare fingers hovering over her forehead.
The moment his skin touched hers, a jolt of static electricity snapped between them. It stung. The man’s hand jerked back an inch, his breath catching in his throat.
Kenzie glared at him, her mind racing despite the cold fogging her brain. “This guy’s suit is decent, but he stares at a dying baby like he’s deciding whether to put it out of its misery. Psycho.”
The man went completely rigid. His head snapped up, his eyes darting around the empty alleyway. The brick walls were slick with rain, the fire escapes deserted. There was no one else there.
His gaze slowly traveled back down to the baby in the box. The baby who was currently blowing a spit bubble and looking at him with an expression far too aware for an infant.
“Arthur,” the man said, his voice dangerously soft. “Draw your weapon.”
The bodyguard’s hand flew to his holster, pulling out a Glock 19 in a fluid motion. “Where? What is it?”
Kenzie felt the sudden tension in the air. She sighed internally, her infant face scrunching up. “Oh, great. Now they’re pulling guns. Are you going to shoot a baby? You absolute morons. Just pick me up already.”
The man’s eyes widened. The sound-her voice-hadn’t come from the air. It had echoed directly inside his skull, clear as a bell, loud and sarcastic. He stared at her, his chest rising and falling a little faster.
He reached down again. This time, his fingers didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the front of her soaked, filthy onesie. With two fingers, he lifted her up, letting her dangle in the freezing air like a wet rag. The fabric cut into her neck.
“You’re choking me, you overgrown ape!” Kenzie’s mind screamed, her tiny limbs flailing in protest. “Support the neck! Support the neck! Do you want to snap my cervical spine?”
The man’s hand stopped. He heard it again. That sharp, commanding voice ringing in his head, issuing a precise medical directive. He looked at the struggling, purple-faced infant, and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
Without a word, he shifted his grip. His large, warm palm slid under her head, cradling the back of her neck with surprising gentleness. He tucked her against his chest, inside the heavy wool coat. The heat from his body hit her like a furnace.
Kenzie stopped struggling. The warmth was intoxicating. She slumped against the expensive fabric, her eyes fluttering shut. “About time,” she thought, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. “You’ll do. You’re my meal ticket now.”
The man-Devin Ayers-stood perfectly still in the rain. He could feel the tiny heartbeat against his chest, rapid but steady. He listened to the voice in his head, a voice that belonged to the creature he was holding, and a slow, dangerous smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“Cancel the flight to Zurich,” Devin said, his eyes fixed on the dark end of the alley. “Take me home. Now.”
Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian 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.
Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian Chapter 3
Desiree scrambled up from the floor, her hand pressing against her lower back where it had hit the cart. Her face was a mask of pain, but her eyes were darting around the room, calculating. She straightened her rumpled scrubs and lifted her chin.
“This is assault!” she shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Devin. “Security! This man is interfering with a medical procedure! I want him removed!”
Devin didn’t even look at her. He walked over to the counter and picked up a sterile specimen bag. With precise, deliberate movements, he dropped the syringe containing the 5mg dose of Diazepam into the bag and sealed it.
Kenzie watched from the safety of his arms. She turned her head, her gaze landing on Desiree’s white coat. The left pocket was bulging slightly.
“Check her left pocket,” Kenzie thought, her voice a dry whisper in Devin’s mind. “She has an unlabeled vial in there. It’s a fast-acting hallucinogen from the black market. She was going to swap it out if anyone asked questions.”
Devin’s eyes flicked to the pocket. He saw the slight bulge. A dangerous smile touched his lips.
The doors to the ER burst open. A short, portly man in an expensive suit rushed in, his face covered in sweat. Julian Cromwell, the Chief of Pediatrics, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He saw Devin and practically threw himself into a bow.
“Mr. Ayers! I came as soon as I heard. I am so sorry for this inconvenience-“
“Inconvenience?” Devin cut him off, his voice like ice. He shifted Kenzie to one arm and pointed the specimen bag at Julian. “Is it hospital policy for your doctors to administer lethal doses of sedatives to infants, Julian?”
Julian’s face drained of color. He looked at the bag, then at the syringe inside. “Lethal… dose?” He turned to Desiree, his eyes wide. “Dr. Dillon, explain this. Now.”
Desiree’s lower lip trembled. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks. She looked utterly heartbroken. “Dr. Cromwell, I swear, it was a mistake. I’ve been on shift for thirty-six hours. My vision blurred. I grabbed the wrong vial. I would never hurt a child!”
She sobbed, covering her face with her hands. It was a masterful performance.
Kenzie rolled her eyes internally. “She was doing lines of coke in the club bathroom until three in the morning. Her blood is probably half stimulants right now. Fatigue, my ass.”
Devin heard the thought. The corner of his mouth twitched. He looked at Arthur, who was standing like a statue by the door. “Arthur. Search her left pocket.”
Arthur moved. He was across the room in two strides. Desiree screamed, trying to twist away, but Arthur was a wall of muscle. He grabbed her arm with one hand and plunged his other hand into her left pocket.
He pulled out a small, amber glass bottle. There was no label. No prescription. Nothing but a tiny, ominous container.
Arthur dropped it on the stainless steel counter. It clinked loudly in the silent room.
Desiree’s knees buckled. She collapsed into a chair, her face ashen. The tears stopped instantly.
Julian leaned in, squinting at the bottle. He recognized the type. It was a street-grade narcotic dispenser. Not something found in any legitimate pharmacy. His face turned from pale to purple with rage.
“Medical error?” Devin stepped closer, his shadow falling over the cowering doctor. “You bring street drugs into my hospital and try to murder my ward?”
Julian was shaking. “Mr. Ayers, I had no idea-“
“Seal this room,” Devin ordered, his voice echoing off the tile walls. “Freeze all security footage. I want her medical license revoked by the end of the hour. And call the Medical Board. I want a full investigation into this department.”
“Yes, sir! Immediately, sir!” Julian stammered, waving frantically at the security guards. “Get her out of here! Detain her!”
Two guards rushed in, hauling Desiree to her feet. She didn’t fight. She just stared at the floor, her face a mask of pure, venomous hatred.
Devin turned away from the spectacle. He looked down at Kenzie. The fever was still there, but her breathing had steadied. The fear was gone from her eyes.
“Prepare the VIP suite on the top floor,” Devin commanded Julian. “I want the best pediatric team in the city here in ten minutes.”
“Of course, sir. Right away,” Julian squeaked, rushing for the phone.
Devin carried Kenzie toward the private elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the chaos of the ER. The elevator hummed as it ascended. Kenzie nestled deeper into his chest, the heat from his body a comforting shield against the chill in her bones.
“You’re not so bad,” she thought, a sleepy contentment in her voice. “Better than the last batch of bodyguards I had. They just watched me die.”
Devin’s hand tightened slightly on her back. He stared at the elevator doors, his expression unreadable. But in the quiet of the elevator, a low, rough sound rumbled in his chest. It might have been a chuckle.
“Little monster,” he murmured.