I was nothing more than a sharp blade in his hand, a tool he wielded with precision and ease. Once, in our younger days, we had been like wounded cubs licking each other's wound, drawing strength from shared pain. But that was all.

When he proposed to me all those years ago, I hadn't expected it. I had been too overwhelmed by joy to think it through, too eager to believe in a promise that was likely made out of guilt rather than love. Looking back now, I see it for what it was—an illusion I should never have clung to.

The company cleaned up its image and he no longer needed me. To Cayden, I had lost my value.

I studied the now-mature and composed man sitting across from me. He seemed so untouchable, every movement measured, every expression controlled. Pulling out the small box I had prepared, I placed it on the coffee table between us, the sound of its gentle thud breaking the silence.

"I wasn't able to attend your wedding," I said, keeping my tone as steady as I could. "So, here's a belated gift. Don't worry, it's money I earned through honest work. It's mine."

Cayden's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting between me and the neatly wrapped gift. For a moment, I thought he might actually accept it. But then he let out a disbelieving laugh, the sound sharp and cutting.

"Are you joking with me, Aubrey? What's the meaning of this? Are you jealous?"

His incredulity, the sharpness in his tone, shattered the fragile self-respect I had clung to. He looked at me as if I were a fool.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, willing my voice not to waver. "Since you won't take it, forget it." I reached for the box, intending to take it back.

But Cayden wasn't ready to let it go. He shot to his feet and gripped my shoulders. "What do you mean by this? Are you blaming me? Blaming me for not marrying you?"

The intensity in his voice was enough to send a surge of panic through me. I instinctively glanced toward the doorway, where a few of the boys stood, pretending not to listen but clearly eavesdropping.

I shook off his hands, taking a step back to put distance between us. Forcing calm into my voice, I replied, "How could I blame you, Mr. Cooper? It's not my place to judge your choices."

He studied me, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Whenever Cayden was in a foul mood, his brows would arch and then knit together in a subtle frown—a tell he never managed to hide.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice cool and clipped. "If that's the case, report to the office tomorrow. You'll be my assistant."

I froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Assistant?

As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway and added with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, "Oh and your duties will include delivering documents and accompanying my wife on shopping trips."

The air left my lungs as if I had been punched. But I refused to let him see the pain he had caused. I stood there in silence as he walked away, each step echoing like a nail in the coffin of whatever we once had.

After he left, I rubbed my face vigorously with both hands, trying to shake off the stiffness that had settled over me from holding back my emotions. The ache in my chest was suffocating, but I wouldn't cry. Not for him.

***

The next day, I met Catherine.

It was by the lake, a picturesque spot with clear water that reflected the azure sky and lush green trees surrounding it. Cayden had brought her here for a leisurely outing, while I had been tasked with ensuring her safety as her bodyguard.

Catherine was everything I wasn't—elegant, poised and radiating the confidence of someone who had always lived a life of privilege. Her dress, an expensive designer piece, swayed gracefully in the breeze as she walked. Cayden stayed close to her, his gaze soft and attentive, the way it used to be when he looked at me.

I kept my distance, watching them from the shadows like an outsider. But then, out of nowhere, Catherine let out a startled cry and stumbled. Her arms flailed as she tumbled into the lake, the pristine water rippling violently around her.

"Help! Somebody, help me!" she shrieked, her voice laced with panic.

Instinct overrode my hesitation and I dove in without a second thought. The icy water soaked through my thin clothes instantly, chilling me to the bone. Fighting against the resistance of the water, I reached her in a few powerful strokes and pulled her to the surface.

Catherine clung to me, coughing and gasping, but the moment we reached the shore, her demeanor shifted. She pulled away from me and collapsed dramatically onto the grass, her sobs exaggerated as if she were performing for an audience.

Before I could process her act, Cayden arrived. His footsteps were rapid, his face a mix of panic and fury. He didn't even glance at me as he rushed to Catherine's side.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with concern as he knelt beside her.

"I-I slipped," Catherine stammered, tears streaming down her face. "Aubrey saved me, but—"

Cayden didn't let her finish. He stood and turned toward me, his expression darkening.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, his voice like a whip. Before I could respond, his hand came down hard against my cheek, the sting spreading across my skin like fire.

I staggered back, pressing a hand to my face as I stared at him in disbelief. He didn't care. His attention was already back on Catherine, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he carried her to the car.

"Take her to the hotel," he ordered one of the drivers before disappearing with Catherine.

I stood there, drenched and trembling, as the sound of the car engine faded into the distance. My phone's battery was dead. The area was so remote there were no taxis and I had no way to call for help.

An hour passed before Dennis arrived. He found me sitting on the grass, my arms wrapped around my knees in a futile attempt to keep warm. Without a word, he draped his leather jacket over my shoulders and crouched down beside me.

"Aubrey," he said softly, his voice tinged with worry. "Let's go."

I corrected him, telling him to call me "big sister." Dennis hesitated for a moment, then scowled and huffed as he escorted me to a nearby hotel.

"Big sis, I'll head out to buy you some clothes first. Take a hot shower in the meantime," Dennis said.

I nodded silently, grateful for his consideration. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly as he left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the weight of the day settled over me. The lingering sting on my cheek reminded me of Cayden's slap, but it wasn't the worst pain I'd endured.

Dennis was quick, returning within an hour with not only new clothes but also a tube of ointment. "Your face is swollen," he said, his brow furrowed as he handed me the bag. "This should help."

I took the ointment from him, offering a small smile of thanks before retreating to the bathroom.

The shower was scalding, steam billowing around me and washing away the lake water and the chill that had seeped into my bones. As I wrapped myself in a towel and glanced at the fogged-up mirror, my reflection stared back, battered but defiant.

My gaze fell to the scattered scars on my body, each one a ghost of a past injury. They mapped out the years I had spent shielding Cayden from harm, infiltrating dangerous places and putting myself in the line of fire for him.

Almost every scar bore his name in some way, except one. My fingers instinctively traced the three-centimeter line along my jaw, the only wound that predated him. A faint ache accompanied the memory, but it was dulled by the sheer weight of all the others.

I must have lost track of time because a knock came at the door, breaking through my reverie.

"Aubrey?" Dennis called, his voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, opening the door.

The steam followed me out in a curling haze, tinting my skin a flushed pink. Dennis's eyes widened briefly before he turned his head, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He busied himself by picking up the ointment and holding it out to me.

"Here. You should apply this before it gets worse."

"Thanks, but I can do it myself," I said, taking the tube from him.

I dabbed the ointment onto my cheek with a cotton swab, hissing softly as the sting flared.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. Cayden.

I hesitated before answering, sliding my finger across the screen.

"Where are you? I don't see you anywhere," he said, his voice slightly breathless, as though he'd been running. Beneath the urgency, there was a faint edge of reproach.

"Dennis brought me to a hotel," I replied evenly.

There was a pause. I imagined Cayden standing near the lake where Catherine had fallen in, his brows furrowing as they always did when something displeased him.

"Dennis? What are you doing at a hotel with Dennis?" His tone sharpened, irritation laced with something else.

The phone was on speaker. Dennis, now sitting cross-legged by the edge of the bed, perked up like a child overhearing gossip.

"Hiss—" I let out a soft gasp as the ointment stung again.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Which hotel are you at? Send me the address," Cayden demanded, his voice turning commanding.

"It's fine," I replied curtly, keeping my tone neutral. "Dennis will take me back later."

I hung up before he could respond. My reflection in the mirror stared back, pale and blotchy. The swelling on my cheek was pronounced, a vivid reminder of how little I mattered to Cayden when his temper flared.

The thought made me chuckle bitterly. When will I finally give up on him? The smallest hint of kindness and I softened again.

When I turned, I caught Dennis crouched by the bathroom door, his curly hair bobbing as he leaned closer, clearly eavesdropping.

"Dennis," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Instead of looking sheepish, he grinned unabashedly. "Big sis, let's grab dinner together. How about Greenmount Street?"

The mention of Greenmount Street made my eyes light up. Chinatown was there and I hadn't had braised pork rice from the small shop Cayden and I used to frequent in years.

"Sure," I said, surprising even myself with how quickly I agreed.

***

Dennis had brought back a dress for me—a trendy piece with a fitted bodice and a flowy skirt, the kind I rarely wore. The tag proudly declared it as part of this year's "pure seduction" collection, though wearing it made me feel exposed rather than alluring.

The scars on my arms and calves were visible against the pale fabric, their jagged lines stark under the room's fluorescent light. I'd grown used to them over the years, but I couldn't help wondering what others thought when they saw them. Would they see strength? Or would they only see the ugliness of a broken past?

I said nothing as I slipped on the dress. Dennis's eyes lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't comment.

We left on his sportbike, the wind cool against my face as we weaved through the streets. Sitting on the back, I lightly patted his shoulder to signal him to stop.

Dennis pulled over smoothly, removing his helmet as he turned to look at me. "What's wrong? I wasn't going too fast, was I?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," I said, pointing to a mall across the street. "I just... I want to change out of this dress. It doesn't suit me."

Dennis followed my gaze to the mall, then back to me. "You look fine, big sis," he said softly, his tone genuine.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. "Thanks, but I don't feel like myself in it."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Let's find you something else."

The mall buzzed with life even late into the evening, its lights casting a warm glow on the tiled floors. I quickly grabbed Dennis by the arm and led him inside, ignoring his protests.

"Slow down, will you?" he exclaimed as I dragged him toward the nearest clothing store.

I didn't answer, already browsing through racks of casual clothes. Once I'd found a comfortable set for myself—a soft knit sweater and a pair of jeans—I turned my attention to Dennis.

Before he could escape, I began piling him up with shirts, jackets and even a pair of dress shoes I thought would look good on him.

Dennis stood there, juggling an increasingly precarious tower of shopping bags, his face a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Big sis, I can't possibly wear all these clothes. This is ridiculous!"

I glanced at him, smiling faintly. Maybe this is what it felt like to raise a child. Though Dennis was no longer the adorable little boy I'd once known, I still felt a strange maternal instinct toward him. Even though he now towered over me at six feet tall, his broad shoulders and confident stride didn't erase the image of the curly-haired kid who used to trail behind me.

As we walked out of the store, Dennis muttered under his breath, adjusting the bags in his arms. "Why didn't you like that dress? I thought it looked great on you."

I paused for a moment, then reached out to ruffle his hair, ignoring his protests. His naturally curly locks bounced back into place, much to my amusement.

"I never said I didn't like it," I replied, smirking. "In fact, it's the first thing you've shown me that felt like you were treating me with respect. I appreciate it."

Dennis rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Respect? What nonsense is that? And stop treating me like a kid!"

"Ah, yes, yes, of course," I teased, chuckling softly. "Now, how about we grab something to eat?"

"You're changing the subject again, big sis."

I only grinned, leading the way toward the mall exit.

***

By the time Dennis dropped me off at the villa, the night air was thick with silence. The streetlamps cast long shadows across the driveway, their glow muted by the towering trees surrounding the property. It was already past ten.

"You should stay the night," I suggested, glancing at his sportbike. "It's too late to be riding around."

Dennis opened his mouth to reply, but his expression shifted suddenly. His gaze darted past me, alert and cautious.

Frowning, I turned to see what had caught his attention.

Cayden stood in the open doorway of the villa, arms crossed, his figure framed by the golden light spilling out from inside. His expression was dark, unreadable, though a flicker of something I couldn't quite place glimmered in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised. It wasn't like him to come back this late.

"Oh?" Cayden's voice was low, almost mocking. "So, if I weren't here, were you planning to invite your boy toy to stay over?"

Boy what? I blinked, confused. What on earth was he talking about?

I glanced at Dennis, trying to figure out if this was some new slang I wasn't familiar with, but his expression had shifted into something more guarded. My instincts told me it was better to send him away.

"Dennis," I said softly, "you should head back. I'll call you later."

Dennis hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. His unhappiness was clear, but he didn't argue. Instead, he handed me the shopping bags and muttered, "Take care of yourself, Aubrey."

With one last glance at Cayden, he put on his helmet and rode off into the night.

The moment Dennis disappeared from view, Cayden strode over to me, his steps purposeful and impatient. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly.

"Cayden, let go!" I hissed, wincing as his fingers dug into my skin.

He ignored my protests, dragging me into the villa. His grip was firm, almost bruising and the harder I tried to pull away, the tighter he held on.

Once inside, he released me with a shove, sending me stumbling slightly. I steadied myself, glaring at him as he loomed over me, his anger radiating in waves.

"What were you two doing at the hotel today?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

His fury was palpable. The veins on his forehead bulged and his bloodshot eyes glared at me with a heat that would have cowed anyone else.

I refused to shrink back. Straightening my posture, I crossed my arms and met his gaze head-on. "Why should I explain anything to you?" I snapped. "Did you consider my feelings when you left me soaking wet and freezing in the middle of nowhere? Since you didn't, I don't owe you any answers."

The satisfaction of speaking my mind sent a small thrill through me and I couldn't resist twisting the knife further. Smirking, I added, "Cayden, are you jealous right now?"