Everybody knew what that meant. Not a single person who entered George Vale’s estate ever walked out whole.

I looked at Westley.

Just one word, I thought. Just say no. Just once.

“I’ll pick her up in a month,” he said coldly.

That was it. No hesitation. No argument. Just one sentence.

…

That month was the darkest time of my life. George didn’t even touch me the way people expected. Turns out he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from enjoying the sound of people breaking.

The first week he strapped me to a chair and slowly crushed my fingers one by one with a metal press used for cracking bones. Not enough to destroy them completely. Just enough to hear them crack.

“You’re famous, Amelia,” he said, leaning close. “I expected you to scream louder.”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain you,” I muttered through blood in my mouth.

He laughed like I told a joke.

Another day he locked me in a freezer room used for storing meat. No coat. No shoes. Just a thin shirt and the cold chewing into my skin for hours until my body stopped shaking and started going numb.

He came in sometimes just to watch.

“Still alive?” he asked casually one night.

“Unfortunately for you,” I whispered.

He grinned and slammed the door again.

But the worst day was near the end.

They tied my arms down and forced my hands into a bucket filled with acid diluted just enough not to melt everything instantly.

I remember the smell first.

Then the pain.

It felt like my bones were burning inside my skin. I bit down so hard I cracked one of my teeth.

George crouched in front of me, fascinated.

“Say it hurts,” he said. “Just once. That’s all I want.”

I didn’t say a word.

By the time they pulled my hands out, strips of skin were gone and my knuckles looked like something dragged out of a horror movie.

I woke up later staring at my fingers wrapped in dirty bandages. I could still see patches of white bone underneath.

The night before they sent me back, George grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.

“You know what I find funny?” he said softly. “Westley Grimshaw traded his most loyal bodyguard for a girl. That must be some serious love.”

He tilted his head, smiling like a devil.

“Tell me something, Amelia. How much does he love that sister of yours?”

I stayed silent.

What was I supposed to say?

That the man I loved sold me like damaged property?

That every scream I swallowed in that place was because of him?

By the time the month ended, something inside me had already died.

The fire I carried for 11 years slowly went out in that house.

Westley owned my life. I signed that deal long ago. My loyalty, my body, everything. I was just a weapon in his hands.

Weapons don’t get choices.

Unless they break.

Unless they die.

That was when the idea of faking my death first started forming in my head.

When George’s men dumped me back at Westley’s mansion, the sun was already going down. My body felt like broken glass and every step hurt.

But the moment I stepped inside the gate, Natalia was already waiting.

She stood there with several maids around her, wearing a pale yellow dress that probably cost more than my entire life. She looked beautiful. Untouched. Safe.

She smiled when she saw me.

“Sister,” she said sweetly. “You’re finally back.”

Her eyes moved slowly over my body. My bandaged hands. The dried blood on my clothes.

“You must’ve worked really hard for my antidote,” she continued softly. “A whole month with George Vale… that sounds awful.”

I said nothing.

She covered her mouth like she was thinking. “But you know… people say he likes to play with his victims before killing them. I wonder what he did to you.”

One of the maids beside her laughed quietly.

Natalia sighed like she suddenly remembered something.

“Oh right. You must be filthy.”

She clapped her hands lightly.

“Girls, help my sister clean up. She smells like a slaughterhouse.”

Before I could react, one of the maids threw a bucket of boiling water straight at me.

The water hit my chest and shoulders and burned through my skin instantly.

My body jerked but I didn’t move.

Did it hurt?

Of course it did.

But compared to the acid eating through my hands while George watched… this felt like nothing.

Natalia watched quietly for a moment. My clothes were soaked and my skin was turning red and blistered.

“You’re not even reacting?” she said with a small pout. “That’s boring.” She stepped closer and tilted her head, studying me. “Well,” she said with a bright smile, “I guess you’re clean now.”

Then she waved toward the mansion.

“Come inside, Amelia. Don’t just stand there like a stray dog.”

…

I dragged my broken body back to the small backyard behind the mansion. That place had always been mine. Quiet, hidden, far from the rest of Westley’s world. My legs felt like they were made of glass and every step hurt.

I swallowed the fake death pill before I pushed the door open and leaned against the wall for a moment. My clothes were still wet from the boiling water and my hands burned under the bandages. I started pulling off my jacket so I could clean the wounds.

The door suddenly opened again.

I froze.

Westley stood there in the doorway, the light from the hallway behind him. Tall, sharp, perfectly dressed like always. Black suit, expensive watch, calm face like nothing in the world could shake him.

Eleven years.

And stupidly, my heart still reacted when I saw him.

What was wrong with me?

“You’re back,” he said and walked inside like he owned the air in the room.

Of course he did.

His eyes moved over my body quickly. The torn clothes. The blood. The burns.

“Turn around,” he said. “Let me see your injuries.”

I didn’t argue. I slowly turned my back to him.

My shirt slid down enough to reveal the mess George left on my body. Cuts, bruises, deep scars that still hadn’t healed.

Westley stepped closer and I felt his fingers lightly touch a long scar across my back.

His voice lowered. “What did this?”

“George’s whip,” I answered quietly. “Steel wire inside it.”

His fingers moved to another mark on my shoulder. A round scar.

“And this?”

“Branding iron.”

He paused for a second.

Then his hand moved again, stopping at the fresh burn across my shoulder and neck. The skin there was still red and blistered.

His voice changed slightly. “What about this one?”

“Natalia had someone throw boiling water on me,” I said calmly.

His hand stopped moving.

“What did you say?”

I turned my head slightly so I could look at him. “I said Natalia told a maid to pour boiling water on me,” I repeated. “Said I was dirty.”

For a moment the room went completely silent.

Then his face turned cold.

“You expect me to believe that?” he said quietly.

My chest tightened. “I’m just telling you what happened.”

He laughed once but there was no humor in it.

“Natalia?” he said. “The girl who cries if a stray cat gets hurt? The girl who begged me all day not to let you go to George Vale’s place because she was scared something would happen to you?” His voice hardened. “I heard she locked herself in her room and cried the entire time you were gone. She kept saying she wished she could take your place.” He looked straight at me then. “And now you’re telling me she threw boiling water at you?”

My throat felt dry. “I’m not lying.”

“When did you start lying to me, Amelia?” Westley’s eyes went darker.

“I didn’t,” I said quietly. “I never lied to you.”

He stared at me for another second like he was trying to see through my skull. Then suddenly he shoved me hard.

“Still arguing!” he snapped.

I stumbled back and almost fell.

“Guards!” he called sharply. Two men rushed into the backyard immediately. “Twenty lashes,” Westley said without even looking at me. “Right here.”

The guards hesitated for half a second. Nobody liked punishing me. They all knew I was the one who usually protected them.

But Westley’s orders were absolute.

They grabbed my arms and forced me onto the wooden bench in the backyard. I didn’t fight. What was the point?

The first lash came down across my back. Pain exploded through my body and tore open skin that hadn’t even healed yet.

Westley stood a few steps away watching.

Cold. Unmoved.

“This is a warning,” he said calmly. “Anyone who dares speak badly about Natalia will be punished the same way.”

The second strike came.

Then the third.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood and my vision started to blur but memories kept flashing through my head.

The first time I killed someone was when I was fifteen. I was shaking so badly I couldn’t even hold the knife steady.

Westley had pulled me into his arms that night.

“Hey,” he said softly back then. “Look at me. It’s alright.”

“I was scared,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said and gently touched my head. “But you’re not alone. I’m here.”

Now he was the one standing there while someone tore my back apart.

Fourth strike.

Fifth.

By the time they reached twenty my entire back felt like it was on fire. Blood soaked through my shirt and dripped onto the stone floor.

The guards stepped away slowly and everything went black.

Somewhere far away I heard voices.

The doctor's shaky voice spoke first. “Mr. Grimshaw… her pulse is extremely weak. I’m afraid she might not have much time left.”

Something shattered loudly.

Glass hitting the floor.

“What did you just say?” Westley’s voice sounded colder than ice.

The doctor sounded terrified now. “I’m sorry sir but her body is already failing. The injuries are severe and her heartbeat is fading.”

“Get out,” Westley snapped.

The footsteps rushed away quickly.

The room went quiet after everyone left. A few seconds later the curtain around the bed was suddenly pulled aside.

Westley stood there.

His face was shadowed but I could still see the cold look in his eyes. My hands, the same hands that had held guns and knives for him for eleven years, were lying useless on the blanket.

“You made a blood oath to me,” he said slowly. “Remember that night? You said if anyone ever hurt you, I’d make them regret being born.”

His voice dropped lower.

“So explain something to me, Amelia. When did you learn to work with doctors to fake a dying act like this?”

I didn’t answer.

I just closed my eyes.

For a moment the room stayed silent. Then I felt the air around him change.

“You’re not even going to explain?” he said sharply. “You think I’m stupid enough to fall for this?”

Still nothing from me.

His footsteps moved closer to the bed.

“You’ve been acting strange for a while,” he continued coldly. “But this… pretending to die just to get attention? I didn’t think you’d sink that low.”

My chest rose slowly.

I still didn’t speak.

That seemed to make him even angrier.

“Fine,” he said suddenly.

His voice turned completely cold.

“Throw away all her medicine. Every bottle. Every bandage.”

Someone outside hesitated. “Mr. Grimshaw…”

“Did you not fucking hear me?!” he snapped. “Since she loves pretending so much, let her deal with it herself.”

A moment later I heard the cabinet being opened and everything being thrown into a trash bag.

Then the door slammed shut behind him.

The sound echoed through the quiet room.

I lay there on the bed staring at the ceiling. The wounds on my back burned like fire under my skin.

Pain had become normal a long time ago.

Just like the way he hurt me again and again.

As the night got deeper the pain got worse. My body started shaking and cold sweat soaked the sheets. I bit the corner of the blanket to stop myself from making any noise.

Somewhere in the middle of the night my mind drifted back to years ago.

The first time I got badly injured on a mission.

I had been stabbed and almost bled out.

Westley stayed beside my bed for three days back then. Three days without leaving. He even changed the bandages himself.

I still remembered the look in his eyes.

It looked like he was in pain.

Like it hurt him to see me hurt.

Stupid me.

I thought it meant something.

I thought maybe… maybe he cared.

...

Morning finally came and the pain eased a little. I had just closed my eyes when someone knocked on the door.

The butler’s voice came from outside.

“Miss Meadow, Mr. Grimshaw ordered you to come to the main hall immediately. You’re going with him to fulfill a promise.”

I slowly pushed myself up.

It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing into my back. My hands shook as I wrapped new bandages around the wounds and pulled on a plain black dress.

By the time I walked into the main hall, Westley was already there.

He was wearing a dark tailored coat and standing close to Natalia. He was tying a soft scarf around her neck carefully like she might break if the wind touched her.

Natalia wore a light pink dress and looked bright and delicate.

Next to her I probably looked like something dragged out of a war zone.

“You’re here,” Westley said without even lifting his head.

His voice sounded bored.

“You’re responsible for Natalia’s safety today. Stay close and do your job.”

Finally he glanced at me.

“And Amelia,” he added coldly, “if anything happens to her… you won’t like the consequences.”

I lowered my eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

The cars were already waiting outside.

Westley helped Natalia into the back seat of the black Rolls Royce. I got on a motorcycle with the other guards and followed behind.

The road out of the city was quiet.

Halfway there the sky suddenly opened up and heavy rain started pouring down. Within minutes my clothes were soaked. Water ran down my back and slipped into the bandages, making the wounds sting again.

I could feel warm blood slowly running down my spine.

Natalia lifted the car window halfway and peeked outside.

She looked at me riding in the rain for a moment.

“Westley,” she said softly, “Amelia looks terrible. She’s injured and the rain is pouring like this. Should we let her sit inside the car for a while? Or at least give her an umbrella?”

For half a second I almost laughed.

Westley didn’t even turn his head.

“She’s a bodyguard,” he said calmly. “She’ll be fine.”

That was it. Natalia’s lips curved slightly before she hid the smile.

I tightened my grip on the handle and kept riding.

Right.

Just a bodyguard. Just a weapon he could throw away whenever he wanted. Even if I died tomorrow, he probably wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

The convoy finally stopped near an old mountain church outside the city. It was a famous place where people went to pray and make promises.

But what happened next shocked everyone.

Westley suddenly stepped out of the car and removed his coat.

Then he dropped to his knees at the bottom of the long stone staircase leading up to the church.

The guards immediately rushed forward.

“Mr. Grimshaw, what are you doing?”

Westley’s voice was calm.

“When Natalia was dying, I promised I’d crawl these steps if she survived,” Westley said calmly. “I don’t believe in God. But I keep my promises.”

Natalia’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “Westley, you don’t have to do that,” she said softly. “It was just something you said when you were worried. Nobody expects you to actually…”

But he had already bowed forward. His forehead hit the stone step with a heavy sound.

Then he moved up one step.

And did it again.

Step by step he kept bowing down. The hard stone quickly split the skin on his forehead and blood began running down his face. People around the church started whispering.

“Look at that man…”

“He must really love his wife…”

“What a devoted husband.”

Wife.

The word stabbed straight through my chest.

By the time we reached the church on the mountain, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Westley’s knees were already soaked with blood from the stone steps he had crawled up earlier, but he still insisted on walking Natalia inside first. He held her hand like she was something fragile, guiding her carefully through the old wooden doors.

The inside smelled like candles and incense. Natalia liked places like this. Quiet places where people prayed and whispered to God.

Westley didn’t believe in any of it.

Everyone knew that.

But because she did, he respected it.

So he stood beside her while she knelt in front of the altar.

Natalia closed her eyes and folded her hands. “Please… let everyone I love stay safe,” she murmured softly.

Westley didn’t kneel completely. He just stood there beside her and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“If praying makes you feel better,” he said quietly, “then do it.”

I stayed outside near the entrance, rain dripping from my hair and down my back. The bandages under my clothes were already soaked again.

After Natalia finished praying, the pastor of the church came forward. He was an older man who looked both nervous and honored.

“Mr. Grimshaw,” he said respectfully, “you’ve donated to this church for years. We’ve always been grateful for your support. I wanted to give you something small in return.”

He pointed to a wooden table beside the wall where several rare potted plants were displayed.

“This is a rare mountain orchid. It’s known for bringing peace to the household.”

Natalia leaned closer to look.

But then her eyes landed on a different plant beside it.

“What about this one?” she asked curiously.

The pastor hesitated. “That one… was actually promised to another guest today.”

Westley glanced over.

A young rich man standing nearby stepped forward politely. He looked like one of those spoiled heirs from a political family.

“That plant is mine,” the man said casually.

Westley studied the plant for a moment.

Then he looked at the man.

“How about we trade,” he said calmly.

The man blinked. “Trade?”

“I’ll give you my nightclub on 8th Street,” Westley continued. “The one downtown.”

The guy’s eyes widened immediately.

“Mr. Grimshaw… that club is worth millions.”

Westley shrugged like it meant nothing.

“If Natalia likes the plant,” he said simply, “then it’s worth it.”

My chest tightened when I heard that.

So he did understand love.

He just never loved me.

The young heir laughed awkwardly. “Well… if you insist, I’d be stupid to refuse.”

The pastor quickly handed the plant over to Natalia.

She smiled brightly and reached out to pick it up.

Then suddenly she gasped.

“Ah!”

She jerked back her hand. Tiny puncture marks appeared on her wrist.

Everyone froze.

A rare red venomous scorpion had crawled under the pot and stung her. Westley’s expression changed immediately.

“Natalia!”

He grabbed her wrist and bent down, pressing his mouth to the wound to suck out the venom.

“Nobody fucking moves!” he barked between breaths.

Natalia’s lips quivered. “Westley… I feel dizzy.”

I gritted my teeth. I remembered when I was poisoned years ago. He had only glanced at me and said, “Bear with it,” then walked away.

The doctor arrived quickly, checking her pulse. “The venom’s spreading fast,” he said. “There’s a rare herb growing on the cliffs nearby that can neutralize it, but it’s dangerous.”

Westley stood immediately. “I’ll get it.”

Natalia grabbed his sleeve. “No… please don’t. It’s dangerous. What if something happens to you? I’ll be even more scared.”

His eyes swept the room and finally landed on me.

“Amelia,” he said.

I stepped forward.

“Go get it.”

“Yes, sir.”

…

The mountain behind the church was steep and covered in wet rocks. Night rain had turned everything slippery and dangerous.

I climbed using my bare hands.

Every movement felt like knives tearing into my back. My fingernails cracked against the rocks and blood mixed with rainwater as it ran down the stone.

The wind was cold and sharp and my thin clothes stuck to my body.

At one point a loose rock shifted under my foot.

My body slipped instantly.

For a moment I thought I was going to fall straight down the cliff.

My hand grabbed a sharp branch sticking out of the rock wall just in time.

The branch stabbed straight through my palm.

Pain shot up my arm but I forced myself not to scream.

Just keep climbing.

Just finish the job.

Why was I still doing this for him?

Why?

The question passed through my mind for a moment. I didn’t have an answer.

By the time the sky began turning gray with morning light, I finally saw the herb growing inside a crack in the cliff.

I carefully pulled it out and held it tightly in my bloody hand. On the way back down I blacked out twice.

The blood loss was getting worse and my vision kept going dark. But somehow my body still kept moving. By the time I stumbled back into the church backyard, the sun was already rising.

My legs almost gave out.

But the herb was still clutched in my hand.

…

I handed Westley the rare herb, shaking, hands slick with blood. He didn’t even look at me, just snatched it and shoved it toward the doctor. “Make the medicine. Now.”

I stumbled back against the door frame, chest heaving, legs like jelly. My whole body still ached from the fight, from the rain, from everything.

The doctor started boiling the herb into some bitter-smelling drink, but Natalia just sat there, staring at it. Westley crouched next to her. “Come on, Natalia, just drink it. I know it’s awful, but you need it. Don’t fight it. You want to get out of here alive, right?”

She shook her head, tears streaming. “I can’t… it’s disgusting…”

He stared at her for a beat and then tipped the cup into his mouth himself. Before I could even think, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, feeding her the medicine mouthful by mouthful. “See? It’s fine, just a little, that’s it, just keep going…”

I froze, my chest tightening. I wanted to look away, run away, disappear, but I couldn’t. Part of me broke right there. My back burned like hell, but it didn’t matter. This—this was worse.

Once she drank it, he called the guards. “Move. Now. Everyone stay sharp.”

Then the first shots rang out. “Ambush!”