Chapter 1
Everyone around Tristan Wood knew I was his attack lapdog.
If he told me to kneel and shine his shoes, I'd do it without a word.
Then, he humiliated me in front of everyone for that sweet college girl. He splashed red wine in my face. "Juliet, you look so fierce it makes me sick. Get lost. Don't scare Daisy."
The girl named Daisy timidly hid in his arms, but a sinister red glint flashed in her eyes.
I wiped the wine from my face and stared him down. "Tristan, without me, you'll die."
He laughed arrogantly. "Get lost! Take this card and never show your face to me again."
I took the card loaded with 1.5 million dollars and walked away.
Outside, I sent the location to the lunatic who'd been hunting for Tristan on the dark web.
[1.5 million dollars transferred. I'm pulling back security. He's in Private Room A8. No one's going to stop you.]
*****
Red wine streamed down my forehead, cold and syrupy.
The wine clouded my eyes, turning the dazzling lights in the private room into warped rings of light.
Tristan's icy, disgusted voice pierced through the blaring music.
"Juliet, are you deaf or something?
"I said get lost."
Daisy was trembling in his arms, like a scared rabbit.
She said softly, "Tristan, let it go. Juliet didn't do it on purpose.
"She's just nervous because of you."
Tristan pulled her closer, his voice softer than I'd ever heard.
"Daisy, you're just too kind," he said.
"She's just a bitch. Is she even worth you speaking up for her?"
The people around us laughed quietly, just loud enough to be heard. "Tristan's right. She's just a bitch, but she actually thinks she runs the place."
"She should take a look at that corpse-like face of hers. Who wouldn't lose their appetite just seeing it?"
"Now Daisy, that's what a real woman looks like—soft, sweet, and totally irresistible."
I wiped my face, stone-faced.
My hand was stained with vivid red.
I'm Juliet Martin, Tristan's bodyguard, and his so-called girlfriend.
To be honest, I was just his hidden lover, the one he kept out of sight.
I'd blocked three knives and taken two bullets for him.
The wound on my left shoulder still throbbed whenever it rained.
Tristan was the crown prince of Kingswood—arrogant, wild, and with enemies lining up to take him down.
Without me, he wouldn't have survived to eighteen.
That was what his father said.
So he handed me over to Tristan, told me to keep him safe.
And I did.
For eight years, I was like his shadow, clearing out every danger before it could reach him.
He got to race cars, hit the clubs, and live it up without a worry.
Me? I stayed in the shadows, licking my wounds, always tense and on guard.
I thought he'd at least be a little grateful.
Three months ago, Tristan met Daisy.
She was an art major in college—bright, delicate, and sweet.
Tristan fell for her at first sight.
He said he'd never seen a girl so pure.
Not like me, covered in blood, with eyes sharp as blades.
He started to loathe having me around.
He couldn't stand it when I nagged him to eat.
He hated me stopping his late-night street racing.
He detested the constant smell of disinfectant clinging to me.
Today was his twenty-sixth birthday party.
Daisy gave him a portrait she'd painted as a gift.
Tristan couldn't stop admiring it, and kissed her right in front of everyone.
His friends started cheering, calling her "Mrs. Wood."
I stood in the corner, feeling like just another piece of furniture.
As a waiter carrying a tray walked past Daisy, his foot suddenly slipped.
Instinctively, I stepped forward, shielded Daisy behind me, and threw up my arm to block the waiter.
The drinks on the tray splashed all over the floor.
I twisted the waiter's wrist until it was bent at an unnatural angle.
From his sleeve, I fished out a steel needle coated in poison.
Everything happened in a split second.
Nobody even had time to react.
Daisy's face went pale, and she screamed, burying herself in Tristan's arms.
"Tristan, I'm so scared...
"Juliet's eyes... she looks like she wants to kill me..." Daisy said in a trembling voice.
That was how it all started.
Tristan looked at me like I was just garbage.
He took out a black card from his wallet and threw it at my feet. "1.5 million dollars. Get out of my life.
"Don't ever let me see that sickening face of yours again."
I dropped my gaze, staring at the card lying on the floor.
It felt like something inside me just shattered.
Eight years watching his back, three times taking a blade, twice catching a bullet.
So that was all I was worth—1.5 million dollars.
I bent down slowly and picked up the card.
Then I rose to my feet and met his eyes.
"Tristan." My voice was steady, almost cold. "Without me, you're as good as dead."
He burst out laughing, almost rolling on the floor like I'd just told the world's biggest joke.
"Juliet, you really overestimate yourself," he scoffed. "Without a lackey like you, my life will be a whole lot easier."