Chapter 1Shameless for You: Claiming the Broken Heir

Declan Vance lost the use of his legs.

Overnight, the golden boy of high society plummeted into the mud.

And I, the girl who had loved him for years, took full advantage of his downfall.

He mocked himself, "You want me, but I’m a cripple now."

I stared at his legs, completely unbothered. "Your legs are paralyzed, not your reproductive organs."

That night, the usually composed and disciplined Declan pulled me onto his lap.

He whispered, "I heard your riding skills are excellent?"

I shook my head frantically, denying it. "No... my lower back hurts."

* * *

Declan Vance lost the use of his legs.

His girlfriend ran away, his best friend betrayed him, and his illegitimate half-brother usurped his position.

Overnight, the untouchable heir was dragged through the mud, abandoned by everyone.

Holding a bouquet of flowers, I stopped at the door of his hospital room.

Declan was sitting on the hospital bed, his back to me.

His lean frame shifted slightly.

He reached out, trying to grab a glass of water from the bedside table.

I don't know if it was just out of reach, or if he was just careless.

The glass crashed to the floor.

It shattered into pieces.

In the dead silence of the hospital room, the sound was piercing.

Declan hung his head, his fingers curling inward.

He gripped the bedsheets until his knuckles turned white.

The once proud and arrogant man now radiated a suffocating aura of depression and gloom.

In that stark white room, he looked like a trapped, lonely beast.

It made my eyes burn.

Forcing down my emotions, I knocked on the door.

Declan turned his head.

The moment our eyes met, his pale face and the faint redness rimming his eyes sent a sharp ache through my heart.

Seeing me, a flash of surprise appeared in his eyes.

Followed by a flurry of emotions I couldn't quite decipher, disappearing in a flash.

He spoke first, his voice dry and hoarse. "Why are you here?"

I strode forward, clutching the flowers.

I gave him a wicked, bratty smile. "To laugh at you, obviously."

"The great Declan Vance, once surrounded by sycophants, now left completely alone."

"I seem to remember two people standing in front of me years ago, swearing they had found their true loves and would never leave each other."

I chuckled softly. "Guess that was just talk."

My words were laced with pure venom.

Every sentence was meant to cut deep.

Hearing this, Declan didn't get angry. He showed no emotion at all.

He just listened silently to my relentless mockery.

He watched as I called a nurse to sweep up the broken glass on the floor.

He watched as I casually tossed the dead, rotting flowers from his vase into the trash.

I washed the neglected vase, filled it with fresh water.

And arranged the new flowers.

I looked around the room. "You don't even have a single person looking after you. How did you end up so pathetic?"

Declan finally opened his mouth to reply, "It's lunchtime."

The implication was that his caretaker had gone to eat.

So what?

A billionaire heir didn't even have a rotating shift of caretakers.

Once I was done, I pulled up a chair and sat down to face him.

The redness in his eyes had faded.

I stared at him, my gaze trailing from his hair all the way down to his legs.

Maybe my eyes lingered on his legs for too long.

Declan spoke up on his own. "They're useless. The doctors say I'll be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life."

His voice was calm, devoid of any fluctuation.

I didn't want to know how many agonizing days and nights it took for him to accept his new reality.

To be able to say it so naturally.

I finally lifted my lowered gaze.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Silently, they fell, drop by drop.

The mask of cruel indifference I had been wearing finally shattered.

Declan’s gaze flickered, his tightly pressed lips parting slightly.

He said softly, "What are you crying for? I'm not dead yet."

I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around him.

I stopped suppressing my sobs.

Declan didn't push me away. His arms hung limply by his sides, his hands clenched into fists.

Five years ago, when I was about to study abroad, he hugged me for the first time.

It was a farewell, but also an act of charity.

Back then, his chest was broad and warm.

Now, the man I was holding was practically skin and bones.

He felt fragile.

And cold.