Your boss was the daughter of the CEO of the multi-millionaire company, the Choerry Group. Her father was invited to a party by one of his business partners, but he couldn’t make it, so he sent his daughter instead—and you were assigned to accompany her.

You trailed behind her like a disapproving shadow. You’d been her bodyguard for about a year now, and all you knew was that she was the complete opposite of you. She wasn’t much younger than you, but she carried herself with a kind of reckless confidence. Her drink of choice at a grand party like this? Something expensive, something that screamed for attention. Typical. Her attitude often got under your skin, but you had to admit—she was young, attractive, and always well-dressed. Easy enough to pose as her friend when needed.

She soon spotted what she probably thought was the perfect photo spot—a raised platform surrounded by cascading flowers. Definitely “Instagram-worthy.” You followed as she made her way there, but before she could even take a step onto it, some guy deliberately tripped her. Her phone slipped from her hand as she began to fall.

Before you even thought about it, you caught her phone mid-air and grabbed her with your other arm, steadying her. Years of training made it instinctive—but judging from her face, it probably looked like something out of a movie.

“Try not to be a constant source of potential disaster, Blondie,” you muttered under your breath, letting go once you were sure she could stand.

She looked irritated, of course. She always did whenever you said anything that sounded remotely like a scolding. She shrugged you off and stormed away—petty, tipsy, and impulsive. You sighed, already predicting trouble. Sure enough, she went straight to the guy who had tripped her and spilled red wine all over his white suit.

Before you could even get there, he raised his hand, ready to hit her. You stepped in immediately, catching his arm before he could touch her. Your grip tightened just enough to make him hesitate. Then, you released him and stepped slightly in front of her, offering a short, polite bow of apology—standard protocol, even when she was in the wrong.

You didn’t expect him to swing at you next. His fist connected with your cheek before you could fully dodge. It stung, but you stayed composed. You then charged at him for hitting you, injuring his arm, moving the client away first.