Chapter 1I Walked Away from the Billionaire Who Needed My Touch

Damian Blackwood had severe haphephobia.

Except for me, anyone who got close to him could send him spiraling. Sometimes he even hurt himself.

I was the poor student he had sponsored.

I was also the tactile exposure therapist who had stayed by his side for eight years.

Every late night, he would push open my bedroom door and hold me in silence, like I was the only lifeline he had left.

We shared the most intimate kind of closeness.

But I had no title.

Then my younger sister appeared, and Damian fell madly in love with her.

Even though he couldn’t touch her.

Even though every attempt to get close made him tremble in pain.

He still gave her all his tenderness and patience.

I could only accept the brutal truth.

The eight years I had spent getting him through the darkness meant nothing.

When Damian had his assistant bring me the renewal contract, I was packing my bags.

He seemed certain I wouldn’t refuse.

Certain I would never leave him.

But for the first time, I told him no.

“Mr. Blackwood, I’m getting married. I won’t be renewing this contract.”

…

Damian pressed me into the soft mattress, and his burning kisses fell with him.

One hand pinned my wrist.

The other pressed against my waist.

His breathing was rougher than during any treatment session before.

I didn’t struggle.

I only reached up and gently stroked the back of his neck, waiting for the tension in his body to loosen.

This was how I treated Damian.

For eight years, this was the only touch he could accept.

I closed my eyes, trying to hide how pathetic I felt.

But that only seemed to displease him.

A sharp pain split across my tongue, and the taste of blood spread between our lips.

He was always like this.

When he lost control, he found ways to torment me.

I had grown used to it.

I endured it silently and let him grind against my mouth.

Then the bedroom door was shoved open.

My younger sister, Lily Hart, stood in the doorway, her face deathly pale.

Tears spilled from her eyes.

Damian froze.

Then he released me at once.

I pushed myself up, my collar still messy and undone.

Before I could fix it, Lily rushed to the bedside, crying.

Her fingers clenched tight as she stared at me with red eyes.

“Olivia, can you have some shame?”

I froze.

For a second, I thought I had misheard her.

Lily bit her lip, her voice shaking through her sobs.

“I can comfort Mr. Blackwood too. Stop using treatment as an excuse to hog him.”

I looked at her familiar face.

It felt like someone had slammed a fist into my chest.

I forced my emotions down and asked coldly, “Lily, do you even know what you’re saying?”

Lily wiped away her tears and lifted her chin stubbornly.

“Of course I do. Mr. Blackwood doesn’t love you.”

Every word was painfully clear.

She glanced at Damian, who remained silent, and her voice sharpened.

“Besides sex, what do you even have with him?”

My fingers went stiff.

Lily stepped closer, eyes red.

“Olivia, you know he doesn’t love you, but you still stay beside him every night. Don’t you think that’s disgusting?”

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

I stared at the sister I had raised with everything I had, and suddenly she felt terrifyingly strange.

After our parents died, I worked three jobs a day to pay her tuition.

When she got sick, I stayed at the hospital for days and nights without closing my eyes.

The clothes she wanted, the school she wanted, the life she wanted—I did everything I could to give them to her.

And now, because of Damian, she was tearing apart the last shred of dignity I had left.

I stared at her, my voice trembling despite myself.

“Who taught you to say these things?”

Lily lifted her chin and looked at me as if she were right.

“No one taught me. I just look down on women who cling to men who don’t love them.”

“I hope you learn some self-respect and stop being so cheap.”

“I look down on you.”

I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.

The crack echoed through the room.

Lily covered her cheek, frozen in place.

My eyes burned.

But somehow, my palm hurt more than my heart.

Damian’s face darkened instantly.

Without hesitation, he pulled Lily behind him.

This man, who couldn’t stand even the brush of someone else’s sleeve, was now actively shielding her.

I looked at his hand protecting Lily, and my breathing slowly went cold.

Damian’s eyes were sharp as he questioned me.

“Olivia, she’s your sister. Did you really have to take it that far?”

I opened my mouth.

But it felt like cotton had been stuffed down my throat.

Lily hid behind him, sobbing, her shoulders shaking lightly.

Damian lowered his head to look at her.

The worry in his eyes was something I had never received.

Swallowing my humiliation, I asked hoarsely, “Damian, did you hear what she just said?”

His expression remained cold.

His voice didn’t waver.

“No matter what she said, you shouldn’t have hit her.”

My heart sank completely.

Then Damian reminded me, word by word, “Olivia, know your place.”

Eight years of companionship became the sharpest slap of all.

I sat on the messy bed with my clothes disheveled and my dignity stripped bare.

And he stood there protecting my sister, looking at me like I was an outsider who had crossed a line.