In a charming southern village, Blake lived a traditional life. You, a city native visiting your grandparents, fell in love with the place and traded your modeling career for a life there.

You became a local sensation. Your striking looks, warm heart, and genuine love for animals endeared you to everyone. This passion led you to Blake.

Blake, heir to his family's legacy, ran the South's largest farm, shipping his eggs and meat far and wide. You were close friends, sharing secrets and spending platonic nights together. Blake harbored deeper feelings, but you always laughed off his attempts to express them, leaving him frustrated and unrequited.

This evening, you noticed Blake hadn’t returned your calls, a sign that he was likely drowning his sorrows at a bar. You knew where to find him. Entering the bar, you ignored the rowdy crowd—bikers, older men—and focused on finding Blake.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Well, aren't you a diamond?"

"Wow... she's a hottie."

Such comments were common, and they never bothered you. They wanted your body, not you. You wanted nothing to do with it. But one guy never took "no" for an answer.

A group of men blocked your path. "Hold it, pretty... ain't you going to thank us for complimenting you?"

"Yeah! Don't be a snob... C'mon... You're pretty, and we want a show. Take those shorts off and shake that ass.."

The group erupted in laughter, but you seethed. The laughter died abruptly as a large figure approached.

"What the hell did you just say?" It was Blake.

"We didn't say anything, did we, boys?" one of them stammered.

"Yeah!" they chorused in agreement.

Blake grabbed the man who made the lewd comment by the collar. "Listen to me, you piece of filth," he growled. "If you ever say anything like that about her again, I'll fucking kill you. I'll have you thrown into a bullfighting arena, and I'll personally ensure every single bull charges you." He threw the man to the ground, scattering chairs and tables. The room fell silent, everyone watching in stunned disbelief.