Chapter 35: The bright girl
She was eighteen, standing in a sunlit garden, holding a bouquet of yellow roses.
She was laughing, her bright green eyes wide and full of life, her dark hair blowing across her shoulders. She looked soft. Soft, rich, and untouched by anything painful.
"Isabella Kingston," the old man said. "Only child of Lance Kingston. The old man is paranoid. He thinks his business rivals are going to hurt her, so he wants a shadow. Someone who can blend into a suit, carry a concealed weapon, and keep his precious little princess breathing."
Kian looked at the picture for three seconds before closing the folder with a quiet snap.
"She looks like a headache," Kian had said flatly.
"The salary is two million a year," his handler replied smoothly. "Do it for three years, and you’ll never have to work another day in your life."
Kian took the job.
He hated her the moment he met her.
He remembered his first day at the Kingston estate. He was standing in the grand foyer, wearing a dark suit that felt strange against his shoulders, his face a complete, emotionless wall.
Isabella had walked down the curved staircase, wearing a light yellow dress that looked far too expensive for a regular Tuesday.
She was chatting happily with her father, her voice light and musical, laughing at some silly joke Lance had made.
She had never known what it felt like to go hungry. She had never slept on a cold floor or watched someone die in front of her. She was a spoiled, sheltered daddy’s girl who lived in a world made of glass and silk.
When Lance introduced him as her new personal bodyguard, Isabella had stopped laughing.
She had looked up at Kian, her bright green eyes wide, her lips parting slightly. She looked intimidated by his height, by the cold, flat look in his eyes. She became quiet, almost timid, her hands fidgeting with the lace edge of her dress.
"Hello, Mr. Carter," she had whispered, offering him a small, nervous smile. "It’s... nice to meet you."
Kian hadn’t smiled back. He had just bowed his head slightly. "Miss Kingston."
In his mind, he had already decided she was entirely useless.
The months that followed were tedious. Kian was forced to adapt to a life that felt completely ridiculous to him. He spent his days holding open doors, standing outside expensive clothing boutiques, and riding in the passenger seat of luxury cars while Isabella went about her mundane, easy life.
He watched her every single day.
He watched her sip sweet iced coffee while reading novels on the back terrace. He watched her shop for shoes she would only wear once.
He watched her stop by the side of the driveway to feed a scrawny stray cat that had crawled through the fence, her hands getting covered in dirt as she giggled and talked to the animal like it was a person.
He watched her apologize to a junior maid who had accidentally spilled tea on her silk rug, telling the terrified girl that it was okay and helping her clean it up with her own hands.
She was kind. Lovely, sweet, and gentle to everyone she met.
And Kian hated her for it.
Her kindness felt like an insult to him. She could afford to be sweet because the world had never hit her. She could afford to smile at servants because she didn’t know what it felt like to be treated like dirt.
Her whole existence was a reminder of how unfair the world was, how some people were born into warm, sunlit rooms while others were raised in cold, dark corners.
He treated her with absolute professional distance. He spoke only when spoken to. He kept his eyes straight ahead.
He never answered her polite questions about his day or his family, giving her short, cold answers that left no room for conversation.
Isabella, however, slowly began to change around him.
The initial fear wore off, replaced by something soft and quiet. She began bringing him coffee in the mornings, standing awkwardly beside his post, waiting for him to take the cup.
She would blush whenever he opened the car door for her, her fingers occasionally brushing against his coat, her eyes lingering on his face long after he looked away.
She started making up excuses to go out, claiming she needed to buy books or visit the park, just so he would have to walk beside her.
Kian saw it all. He was trained to read body language, to spot tiny shifts in a person’s behavior. He knew she was developing a crush on him.
He felt nothing. To him, she was just a target he was paid to protect, a silly girl infatuated with the quiet, dangerous man standing behind her.
Then, he met Alice.
It hadn’t happened at a fancy party or a grand gala. It happened in the estate kitchen late one afternoon.
Kian had gone down to get a bottle of water, stepping into the cool, tiled room. Sitting at the long stainless-steel prep table was a girl his own age.
She was wearing a simple dark skirt and a blouse, her hair tied back, eating an apple while her mother, Aria, folded cloth napkins nearby.
Alice didn’t look like Isabella. She didn’t have that soft, bright innocence. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and calculating.
When Kian walked in, Aria smiled softly, introducing Alice as her daughter who had just finished school and was visiting for the weekend. Kian gave a short nod, grabbed his water, and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, Alice spoke up, her voice smooth and dry.
"You look bored out of your mind, bodyguard."
Kian paused, his hand on the door frame. He turned his head, looking back at her.
Alice took a bite of her apple, looking him up and down with a small, knowing smirk. "You look like a man who’s used to doing real work, forced to carry shopping bags for a girl who doesn’t even know how to tie her own shoes."
It was the first time anyone at the estate had said out loud what he was thinking.