Chapter 2

Outside the door, I felt like I'd fallen into an icy abyss.

I never imagined this was how Ethan saw me.

My memory violently dragged me back ten years to that chaotic night.

Kira Yarrow, who had always helped me, was working part-time at a club when she was cornered in a private room by Mr. Hughes and his group.

Over the phone, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

When I burst in, she was curled up in a corner, her dress already torn beyond recognition.

Mr. Hughes 's greasy hand was reaching toward her.

Without thinking, I grabbed an empty bottle from the table and smashed it over his lackey's head.

After a dull thud, the lackey went down.

Mr. Hughes slapped me across the face in return, the sting sharp and hot.

"Bitch dares to fight back?"

He grabbed my hair and dragged me across the floor. My scalp felt like it was splitting open.

But when fear reaches its peak, it somehow births courage.

I don't know where the strength came from, but I kicked him right in his groin.

The pain made him release me.

I lunged at him, my fists raining down like hail.

Mr. Hughes ended up sprawled on the ground groaning.

When Kira arrived with Ethan, they found me looking like a "shrew."

Disheveled clothes, messy hair, but having beaten a pig-like man into begging for mercy.

What was Ethan's expression then?

Confused, shocked, then his lips slowly curved up, his eyes shining remarkably bright.

On the way to the police station for our statements, he drove with his mouth constantly turned up.

"Hey, you're Natalie Yates, right?"

"You look like a little white rabbit, but how can you be so fierce when you fight?"

"Which school do you go to? Can I get your contact info?"

I was so tired my eyelids were fighting each other, and I snapped back irritably: "You want a beating too?"

He didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed softly.

At the police station, the old officer looked at me, his brow furrowed tight.

"Young lady, you've got some guts! Going in there alone?"

"Two grown men on the other side---weren't you afraid of getting killed?"

I forced a smile, my face aching terribly:

"I'm an orphan with no parents. My life's worthless."

"If it weren't for Kira, I don't know how many times I would've died already."

"Anyone who touches her, I'll fight to the death."

As my words fell, the young officer taking notes paused his pen.

The old officer sighed and said nothing more.

Beside me, Ethan, who had been silent, suddenly looked at me.

The playfulness and interest in his eyes instantly faded.

Replaced by a complex emotion.

I didn't understand it then.

Only later did I realize---it was called heartache.

Outside the police station, the late-night wind carried a chill.

I shivered.

Kira had been taken to the hospital first by Ethan's friend. On the empty street, only Ethan and I remained.

He suddenly reached out and pulled me into a corner against the wall.

"Natalie Yates." He lowered his head, his breath mixed with a faint tobacco scent brushing my bangs.

"Be with me."

I looked up at him, my face expressionless.

I'd seen too many of these games rich people played on a whim.

Seeing my silence, he leaned in closer, his tone alluring: "I have money and power. I can walk sideways in New York."

"Be with me, and no one will dare touch you again---not you, not Kira."

"Maybe---" he paused, his gaze deep, "I can even give you a home."

A home.

Those words were like a tiny needle, gently piercing the softest part of my heart.

I looked at his face drawing nearer and didn't pull back.

Instead, I stood on tiptoe and moved toward him first.

Our breaths mingled. He clearly hadn't expected me to do this, his body stiffening slightly.

My lips nearly touched his ear as I spoke, my voice soft but every word clear: "Does Mr. White have money to burn?"

"Then how about helping me win the lawsuit against Mr. Hughes first."

"Honestly, the little money I make from part-time work is barely enough to keep me alive!"

The air went quiet for a long moment.

Ethan stared at me, then suddenly smiled.

Not the playful smile from the car earlier, but one tinged with the excitement of being challenged.

One hand still braced against the wall, his other suddenly slipped into my pants pocket.

The movement was so fast I couldn't react.

His fingertips brushed against my thigh through the thin fabric, sending an unfamiliar shiver through me.

He pulled out my old phone with its cracked screen and smoothly entered a string of numbers.

"The lawyer will contact you tomorrow!"

He released me and walked toward his flashy sports car, waving without turning back.

"Keep up, little rabbit. Let's get you patched up."

The night wind lifted the hem of his clothes. It all felt like yesterday.

The memories receded like a tide.

The air conditioning in the hallway cut across my face like a knife.

Ten years.

He had lured me with the promise of "home," worn down my claws with his protection.

And in the end, joined others in mocking my background, questioning my "purity."

I braced myself against the cold wall and slowly stood upright.

Taking one last glance at the man chatting and laughing at the head of the table, I tossed the diamond ring on my hand into the trash without hesitation.

Ethan White, you let go first.