I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn't the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else's story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I'll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.
[LINA]
When my father found him, Dylan had been barely twelve years old, a boy weathered by the cruel realities of war.
And yet, even in the depths of his despair, Father saw something in him—potential, strength, loyalty.
He brought Dylan to our estate, tasked with becoming my personal bodyguard. I was only ten at the time, a sheltered girl who had known nothing but privilege and safety.
But Dylan was a stark contrast to my world—scarred, silent, and carrying a weight that even my young mind recognized as unbearable.
His presence unsettled me at first. He wasn't just intimidating; he was otherworldly, like a statue carved from stone but with eyes that held the storm of every battle he'd fought.