Chapter 3

I was originally taken in by Samuel's parents, groomed to be his right hand one day.

The Pierce family trained me in every form of combat so I could protect him for the past fifteen years.

But during one mission, while shielding Samuel, the enemy shattered a piece of my knee. Even with emergency surgery, it became a permanent injury.

I couldn't work as a bodyguard anymore.

After circling around for a while, I finally found a job caring for a disabled young master.

A caretaker—that was something I could still do.

But when I walked in and saw a man in a wheelchair, eyes bandaged, swinging a butterfly knife blindly in the air, my heart dropped.

"Don't come any closer!" Edward Goodwin held the knife pointed at me.

I bent down and gently wrapped my arms around him.

Edward's body went rigid for a moment.

The butterfly knife pressed against my back as he asked in a cold voice, "Are you not afraid I'll stab you? You just walked up and hugged me."

"No. You won't."

"And how would you know that?"

"I just do."

I'd used this trick before—calming a boy who pretended to be tough when his trembling hands already gave away his fear.

People bared their fangs when they felt unsafe.

Edward was exactly like Samuel had been all those years ago.

The difference was that my intentions weren't nearly as pure this time.

I told Edward, "Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you."

But the truth was obvious to both of us.

A disgraced puppet heir like him would never be assigned a simple caretaker.

I was hired to watch him.

After that first meeting, Edward barely spoke to me again.

But at least he stopped trying to cut me.

Every morning at dawn, he'd sit on the balcony. I had no idea what he thought he was looking at—a blind man facing an empty yard.

I was a light sleeper, and I kept wondering how he managed to get up earlier than me every single day without making a sound.

So I started keeping an eye on him.

But strangely, I began sleeping longer and deeper. No matter what I tried, I couldn't catch how he moved around.

I checked my food for anything suspicious. Nothing.

I refused to accept defeat and sat on the sofa, determined to pull an all-nighter like I used to. The next thing I knew, I woke up in bed.

Edward was already sitting on the balcony, silent as ever.

I told myself I must've been too tired last night and climbed into bed on my own.

After all, the only other person in the villa was a blind, disabled young master who couldn't cross a room without help.

I mixed his medicine and carried it out to the balcony. "I'm sorry, Mr. Goodwin. I overslept."

He tilted his head a little toward me and touched the tray. "You paid for this yourself?"

I answered immediately, "Mr. Goodwin, it's the same medication you used to take."

"I know. I'm not saying you're trying to poison me."

My fingers tightened around the tray.

"I'm just saying... they should be about ready to take me off my meds."

I stayed silent.

My employer had indeed told me to stop giving him medication.

They'd already chosen their new puppet. Edward was no longer needed.

I didn't tell him.

But he seemed far more aware of his fate than I was.

I didn't know why I was helping him.

Maybe because he reminded me too much of Samuel.

*****

When Samuel was young, he was always sick—practically raised on medication.

My plan had always been simple: take care of him until he could stand on his own, then leave, open a small convenience store, and live a quiet life.

So I stayed by his side and saved money whenever I could.

But Samuel fell ill every few days, and my tiny compensation couldn't cover his treatment.

I gritted my teeth and spent the money I'd saved for my first store on his medicine.

Then I used the savings for my second store. Then I drained the funds for my third.

I worried for him but still pushed him to train, to fight, to grow stronger.

When did I decide I wasn't leaving?

Maybe it was the year he turned eighteen—ironically, the same year I had finally made up my mind to go.

But the people hunting us found me first.

My damaged knee couldn't handle being outnumbered.

And the boy I'd always protected stepped in front of me and said, "If you want her, you'll have to walk over my dead body."

He really had learned every technique I taught him. He was covered in blood, but the men who came for us were barely breathing.

That day, he didn't say a word. He just took my hand and led me home.

Neither of us mentioned me leaving.

Even though he saw the suitcase in my hand and knew exactly what it meant.

He suddenly turned around and pulled me into a fierce hug. "Don't go."

I wrapped my arms around him gently. "Okay."