Chapter 4He Remembers My Touch Not My Face

I stood alone in the ascending elevator, my mind a million miles away.

After my parents divorced, my father took Olivia and married into the wealthy Sutton family. From my earliest memories, I’d never even met her.

Then, five years ago, she found me.

"I'll give you a hundred thousand dollars," she'd said. "You take my place. You go take care of someone for me."

My mom had just passed away from a long illness, leaving behind a mountain of medical debt. I had no other choice. I agreed.

It was only after I said yes that I learned who I was supposed to care for: Ethan Prescott, the heir to the Prescott fortune.

And her fiancé, who’d had a terrible accident shortly after their engagement was announced.

"He's a blind cripple," she'd sneered, her face twisted with revulsion. "A washed-up reject from a rich family. Who would want to waste their time on that? If it weren't for my reputation, I would've broken off the engagement months ago."

At the time, Olivia’s acting career was just taking off. She’d landed a breakout role and was on the verge of stardom. The last thing she needed was a reputation for being cruel and faithless.

So she outsourced the burden to me.

Ethan had lived eighteen years as a prince. The sudden, brutal change had shattered him. His temper was a weapon, and in those first few months, I was his primary target. I was pelted with a constant barrage of sarcasm and cold fury.

But I was being paid to do a job, so I never talked back.

Until one day. I’d gone to the cemetery to visit my mother's grave and got back a little late.

He launched into his usual tirade. "Olivia, stop the act! Don't think I don't know how much you hate this, how disgusted you are with me! You’re only here because you're afraid of what people will—"

He never finished the sentence.

Because I lunged forward, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him.

It was my first kiss. I had no idea what I was doing. It wasn't gentle or romantic; it was fueled by weeks of frustration and a flicker of anger, more like a bite than a kiss.

Ethan went completely still. Silent.

The tips of his ears turned a shade of deep crimson.

"You—!"

Fueled by a spark of malice, I bit his lip, just a little.

Then I pulled back, my hands braced on his shoulders, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Did you feel that?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "Do you still think I'm disgusted by you?"