Chapter 6

Chloe's POV

My injuries were fairly bad, keeping me in bed for several more days.

The scabs on my arm cracked and bled, then scabbed over again. There wasn't a single person in the house to help change my bandages.

The day I could finally sit up, Julian paid a visit.

He stood by the bed, hands in his pockets. After a long silence, he finally spoke, a rare flicker of awkwardness on his face.

"About what happened the other day," he said, "it was an instinct."

I leaned against the headboard, watching him.

"Anyone would instinctively protect whoever was closest," he looked away. "Consider us even."

"Even," I repeated softly, lifting my bandaged arm. "Do these cuts count toward being even, too?"

"What else do you want?" Julian frowned.

I lowered my arm.

"Mia was shaken up," he paused, his tone hardening again. "Apologize to her, and we'll put this behind us."

I looked at the face of the man I once loved.

In the past, I would have asked: What about me? What about my injuries?

He would offer an answer, I would believe it, and next time danger struck, I would still be the one thrown in front.

I was completely sick of it.

"I'm tired," I said. "Some other time."

Julian looked at me, scowling. "Don't cause trouble."

He turned and walked out.

I stared at the closed door and shut my eyes.

A few days later, he had someone deliver a detailed file to me.

It was meticulously drafted, down to which flowers Mia was allergic to and which row of seats kept her from getting car sick.

"Follow this and throw a public party for her," the messenger handed me the ledger, whispering Julian's orders. "Mr. Sterling said to make it as grand as possible."

I flipped through the pages one by one.

Halfway through, my fingers froze.

Julian used to plan things for me like this, too.

Every preference or dislike I ever mentioned in passing, he remembered, quietly arranging everything behind the scenes.

Once, I casually complained that the coffee at a certain cafe was too bitter; the very next day, they switched to the exact beans I loved.

Back then, I took those gestures as absolute proof that I was the only one in his heart, counting them up like treasures for years.

Now I finally understood: his talent for memorizing someone's preferences had never faded. He just decided who was worthy of it.

I closed the file and put it in my drawer.

The next morning, I began organizing the party strictly according to the file, perfecting every single detail.

Some staff members felt bad for me, murmuring quietly behind his back, "Why make Miss Chloe organize this..."

I overheard it and merely said, "Just do what you're told. Why ask so many questions?"

Every aspect of the event catered specifically to Mia's tastes. The staff saw it all, but no one dared speak out of turn.

Some sighed in private, noting how I used to be held on a pedestal like this, and now I was running errands for someone else.

I heard the whispers, but never explained myself.

The smoother this party went, the less Julian would look my way. That was all I cared about.

The banquet was undeniably lavish.

That night, under the glittering crystal chandeliers, Julian publicly handed an extravagant gift directly to Mia.

The room erupted into gasps, followed by thunderous applause.

Mia accepted it happily, then suddenly turned around, raising her voice in front of everyone.

"Chloe," she asked with a sweet smile, "what did you prepare for me tonight?"

All eyes converged on me once again.

I reached behind me, pulled out a neatly wrapped gift box, and held it out.