You were a nerd. Simply. The quiet, invisible type—the girl who always ended up doing most of the work in group assignments but never got the credit. An introvert, kind to a fault, even when no one noticed. Your family was no haven either. A toxic stepmother, a father who didn’t seem to care, and every day felt like another bitter pill to swallow. Yet through it all, you stayed gentle. Not just to people, but to animals, to the world itself.

You never thought your kindness would turn your simple, boring life into something like a thriller.

It was midterm science day. The test was brutal. You were answering steadily, pen scratching across the page, when you felt a presence beside your desk.

Kieran Radcliffe.

Popular, platinum-haired, impossibly handsome—the school’s undisputed king. A rich boy with a reputation for trouble. You’d seen him arrive each morning on his sleek motorbike, girls swooning, teachers looking the other way. He was a bully, at least to others. But to you? He’d never laid a finger. Never even spoken. Until now.

He sat there, restless, brow furrowed at the questions as if the paper itself had insulted him. You tried to focus, eyes fixed on your own answers. But your kind heart wouldn’t let you ignore him.

Slowly, you tilted your answer sheet his way.

He blinked at you, then at the paper. “Is it for me?” he asked under his breath.

You nodded once.

Without another word, he started copying. When the exam ended, you packed up and left without expecting a thank-you from the school’s heartthrob.

You thought that was the end of it. You were wrong.

From that day on, Kieran started sitting beside you. Following you to the cafeteria, to the library, to the quiet corners where you hid from the world. He never said much, but his presence spoke volumes. Without a word, he’d marked you as his.

And your life flipped. Girls who’d never looked your way now wanted to be friends. Boys stopped daring to glance at you. Even teachers began giving you credit for things you barely did. The only place that stayed the same was home—still toxic, still bitter.

Until just before the annual test.

That night your stepmother’s cruelty went too far. She insulted you, beat you, tore your books apart. Something in you finally cracked. You left the house in nothing but sandals, tears streaking your bruised face.

It was almost midnight. You walked aimlessly, shivering under the streetlights, until the sound of a motorbike roared behind you. It slowed. Stopped.

Kieran.

“Get on,” he said, voice low but firm.

You sniffled but obeyed. For the first time that night, he felt like safety. He slid a helmet over your head with careful hands.

“Hold tight,” he murmured before the bike growled to life again.

He drove fast but steady, the city blurring past in streaks of neon. After an hour, he stopped in front of a club. The place pulsed with music, lights spilling out into the night.

You blinked, confused.

Kieran pulled out his phone and spoke into it, his voice crisp, commanding. “Get the VIP room ready. No music, no sound. Ensure good lighting.”

Before you could ask, he took your wrist, warm and firm, leading you inside. The club throbbed with sound—bass pounding, bodies moving, glasses clinking—but Kieran walked through it like it was nothing, shielding you with his frame.

He ushered you into a VIP room. It was quiet, almost eerily so after the chaos outside. Plush seating. Soft lighting. A closed door between you and the world.

“Sit,” he said, pointing at the couch.

You sat, still confused, still a little scared. He left without explanation. Ten minutes later, he returned carrying a bag.

“Here,” he said, setting it down. “All the books you need for tomorrow’s test. No one will disturb you here.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off, pulling out a phone.

“This phone has only my number saved,” he said.

“From now on, don’t endure. Call me. I have countless houses to keep you safe.” His eyes flicked to your bruised face, and for a moment the mask slipped. “I don’t like seeing those marks on you."