Chapter 1
I'd been delivering food for three years, braving wind and rain, making 3 thousand dollars a month.
Until that day, when a woman lying in a hospital bed transferred 1 million dollars into my account.
I thought she was crazy.
But what she said next made me set my delivery box down on the floor.
"I'm offering you 1 million dollars to protect my daughter until she turns eighteen. Will you accept?"
The only sound in the room was the beeping of the heart monitor.
Outside, dozens of black-clad bodyguards sent by the Zane family, Riverveil's wealthiest, had sealed off the entire floor, shouting that they'd extract her bone marrow to keep their young heir alive—and send her five-year-old daughter overseas.
I looked into her eyes and said something that made every black-clad man in the hallway turn pale.
Two days later, members of the Zane family were kneeling at the door of this hospital room.
******
When that transfer hit my account, I was crouched by the back entrance of the hospital, munching on a sandwich.
The November wind was biting, so I pulled up my collar on my delivery uniform. Just then, my phone screen lit up.
A transfer notification.
1 million dollars.
I almost choked on my sandwich.
I stared at the screen for ten seconds, thinking it must be a system glitch.
Then the phone rang.
"Mr. Lowe?"
The voice on the other end was weak, like she had to gather all her strength just to speak.
"This is Clara Lynn, the head of Clara Media Studios. I'm on the twelfth floor of the inpatient department, room 1208. The money has already been transferred to you. Please come up now."
"How did you get my number?" I asked.
"You deliver lunch to the twelfth floor every day. I've been observing you for three months."
I was stunned.
Three months?
"Mr. Lowe, I don't have time to explain." Her breathing quickened. "The Zane family will be here this afternoon. My daughter is still downstairs in the children's activity room. Please, come up now."
The call ended.
I just squatted there, staring at the number on my phone.
1 million dollars.
That was what I'd make in thirty-one years if I saved every single dollar.
There was no such thing as a free lunch.
But there was something in her voice I just couldn't brush off.
It was despair.
Real, absolute despair.
I shoved the rest of the sandwich in my pocket, grabbed my delivery box, and walked into the elevator.
On the twelfth floor, in the oncology ward.
The hallway reeked of disinfectant. A few nurses at the station were whispering, and when they noticed me walking by, they gave me odd looks.
The door to room 1208 was slightly ajar.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
On the bed lay a woman in her early thirties, so thin she was practically skin and bones.
Her face was as pale as the hospital walls, her lips drained of all color. An IV was taped to the back of her hand, and the fluid dripped down the tube, drop by drop.
But her eyes were bright.
It wasn't the glow of health, but the last spark before the flame goes out.
"You're here." She tried twice to push herself up, but her arms couldn't hold her, and she collapsed back onto the pillow.
I stood at the door, not moving. "Ms. Lynn, right?"
"Yes."
"So, 1 million dollars. What exactly do you want from me?"
She looked at me, her gaze steady—nothing like someone on death's door.
"I want you to protect my daughter."
"For how long?"
"Until she's eighteen."
I hesitated for a moment. "How old is your daughter?"
"Five."
From five to eighteen—that's thirteen years.
1 million dollars split over thirteen years comes out to less than 77,000 dollars a year.
That kind of money wouldn't even cover a basic bodyguard in Riverveil.
And the kid she wanted me to protect was definitely no ordinary child.
"Why did you choose me?" I asked. "Riverveil's got tons of bodyguard companies and professional security teams. Why go for a food delivery guy?"
Clara's lips quirked, almost like she was trying to smile, but I couldn't really tell.
"Because I've already tried all of them." Her voice became even softer.
"Bodyguard companies, security teams, private guards—I went through them all. As soon as they hear the Zane family's name, they either hand back the money right away or just disappear the next day."
"The Zane family?"
"Harlan Zane."
That name made my fingers pause for a moment.
Harlan Zane—Riverveil's richest man, boss of the Zane Group. On paper, he's got over 20 billion dollars, but his real power goes way deeper than that.
Rumor has it, half the land in Riverveil is somehow tied to him.
"Did you offend him?" I asked.
"It's not that I offended him," Clara said, closing her eyes for a moment, like she was gathering her strength. "He wants me dead."