Chapter 2

Valerie Shaw POV

Everyone in New York was buzzing about how Ethan King, notoriously cold and ruthless, was utterly captivated by his bodyguard, Valerie Shaw.

For five years, he was almost obsessed with my body.

The back seat of his Maybach, the penthouse club's restrooms, private jet cabins...

Even the dim, empty backstage of the annual company gala bore witness to our encounters.

We explored every position, in every conceivable place.

Our last time, we spent five days and four nights, going through ten bottles of lubricant.

My heart, too, had gradually fallen deeper with each of those countless intimate moments.

Until that sports car slammed into me, dragging me for hundreds of feet. Later, from my hospital bed, I overheard Ethan and the traffic cop talking outside my room.

"This accident was just a mistake. Brittany just got back, she was nervous and didn't see her. I'll handle it; I won't pursue any charges against her."

Brittany.

The name, sharp as a needle, pierced my heart unexpectedly.

That was the woman who had abandoned Ethan five years ago without a second thought—Ethan's ex-wife.

She was back?!

Before I could even process the information, another slightly teasing male voice chimed in. It was Dr. Alex Stone, Ethan's private physician and close friend.

"Tsk, Mr. King, aren't you rekindling old flames a bit too fast? You're already protecting Brittany?"

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on your ex-wife who dumped you?"

A brief silence fell outside the door.

A few seconds later, Ethan's voice resonated again, "Her family forced her hand back then; she had no choice. Now that she's back, I've decided to remarry her."

"Remarry?!" Alex's voice shot up. "What about Valerie Shaw?"

I instinctively clutched the sheets beneath me.

Then, I heard the words that would shatter every belief I'd held for the past five years.

"Valerie Shaw?" Ethan's tone was light, dismissive, filled with indifference.

"Just a tool for my pleasure. A kept woman, fine, but Mrs. King? No way…"

"Given she's been with me for five years and mostly compliant, if she's sensible after the remarriage, I wouldn't mind keeping her around."

A tool for my pleasure...

My mind buzzed, a deafening explosion, and I felt all my blood rush backward to my head.

Images started flashing before my eyes, uncontrollably.

Five years ago, I had just finished dealing with loan sharks, covered in injuries, when I stumbled upon him in an alley—also covered in blood, barely clinging to life.

I was the one who literally dragged him back from the edge of death.

His first words upon waking were a plea for me to stay.

Looking into his pleading eyes, my heart softened, and I finally nodded.

In the days that followed, I stood by him as he carved a path through the brutal corporate world.

Successfully transforming the crumbling, near-bankrupt King Enterprises into one of New York's top corporations.

Later, he'd charter a private jet to Iceland overnight just because I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights.

When I said I loved cherry blossoms, he spent a fortune planting an entire mountainside of them for me.

He'd even drive across half the city himself late at night just because I casually mentioned craving foie gras.

He'd book all the major billboards and digital screens across the city for my birthday.

When my mother's condition worsened, with a single call, he brought in New York's top specialists and covered all the expenses.

I thought I had his unique affection, even fantasizing about marrying him.

I never imagined that, in the end, it was all just my wishful thinking.

The hospital room door swung open, and footsteps interrupted my reverie.

Ethan walked in, holding a document.

His gaze swept over my pale face, instinctively avoiding my eyes. He handed me the document, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension.

"Just sign this. Brittany just got back; she can't have a criminal record. I owe you one for this."

Seeing the agreement not to press charges, I slowly lifted my head, my bloodshot eyes fixed on the man before me.

"Ethan," I said, my voice hoarse and heartbroken, "What am I to you, really?"

The mildness on Ethan's face vanished instantly, replaced by annoyance at being questioned.

"You heard?" He raised an eyebrow, then, as if too lazy to pretend, admitted directly, "Yes, it's exactly as you heard."

"I can grant you any compensation you want, but Brittany didn't do it on purpose. She's fragile and easily startled."

His tone was firm, a commanding order, "Valerie Shaw, be good and sign the document."

"What if I don't?" My voice trembled.

Hearing this, he leaned closer to me, "Sign it, and you can stay by my side, just like before."

"Don't sign, and I have all your dirty secrets. If they get out, I can't guarantee you'll walk away unscathed..."

I looked at the face of the man I had loved for five years, and suddenly, he seemed utterly unfamiliar.

A heart truly dies in an instant.

I said nothing more, picked up the pen, and signed my name on the agreement not to press charges.

Each letter I wrote felt like a knife carving into my own heart.

Ethan picked up the signed document, a satisfied expression returning to his face.

He reached out as usual, intending to smooth my stray hairs, as if nothing had just happened.