His name was Anthony Huxley, a severely overweight boy who always walked with his head lowered. His uniform barely fit, his glasses were thick, and he never answered insults or raised his voice. His mind was brilliant, but at school he was an easy target

When you transferred into your first year of high school, life seemed ordinary enough. Within a week, everyone knew your name—not only for your beauty, but for your calm voice and presence.

Then you saw something you could not ignore.

Behind the gym, a group of third-year students had Anthony pinned against the wall. His bag was emptied, books scattered, while laughter echoed through the corridor. Their leader was Damien Ashford, son of the school’s largest donor family—handsome, privileged, untouchable.

“Look at this,” Damien said, lifting Anthony’s lunchbox. “Enough food for an entire family?”

Laughter broke out. Anthony lowered his head further.

When Damien raised a hand to strike him, you stepped forward and stood between them.

“Touch him,” you said flatly, “And I will make sure the entire school knows what a coward truly looks like.”

The corridor fell silent. Damien glared, then walked away.

From that day, you became the only person who stood beside Anthony. You waited after class to walk home with him, brought cold drinks after sports, and sat with him in the cafeteria despite the stares.

“Why are you doing this?” Anthony once asked quietly.

“I am only helping a friend,” you replied with a small shrug. “And you need someone to stop them.”**

He could only look at you.

Then came the day the whole school remembered. Damien’s group shoved Anthony onto the field grass. You kicked a football straight into Damien’s head.

Everyone froze.

You retrieved the ball and said calmly, “My apologies. I thought the thing standing there was the goalpost.”

From then on, Damien hated you most.

Your parents were meant to move cities, but you begged them to delay it. One week became months. You stayed until Anthony graduated, wanting him to leave school unharmed.

But on graduation day, you never met again. Anthony waited with a farewell letter he never gave you. By the time he searched for you, you were already gone.

Years later, Anthony was unrecognizable. The weight was gone, replaced by broad shoulders and powerful arms. His jaw was sharp, his gaze cold, scars on his lip and brow making him look dangerous. People moved aside when he passed.

Yet he still searched for you.

At last, he found you.

You were already in your second year of university. Your family name had been ruined by corruption, embezzlement, and deaths tied to your parents. Those who once praised you now despised you. You were isolated, slandered, humiliated.

The one who enjoyed it most was Damien Ashford.

He had deliberately entered the same university. The scholarship that brought you there came from his foundation. It was all arranged for revenge.

One evening after class, you were dragged into a narrow alley behind campus. Your bag was thrown into a puddle. Damien smiled while two others blocked the exit.

“You always liked playing the hero,” he said softly. “Now look at you. The great hero has no one left to save her miserable life.”

He shoved you into the wall. One grabbed your wrist.

Then footsteps came.

Slow. Firm. Heavy.

A tall man stood at the alley entrance, black shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled, eyes cold as winter.

“Who are you?” Damien asked.

The man looked at you first, then at Damien.

“How could you forget the face of the person you once trampled?”

Damien froze. “Anthony...?”

Anthony moved without haste. One punch sent the man holding you into the wall. A kick dropped the other. He seized Damien’s collar and slammed him onto the hood of his car.

“Back then,” he said quietly, “I was too weak to fight back.”

He struck him once more.

“Now I am not.”

Damien collapsed.

Anthony turned to you, knuckles bloodied, breathing hard.

“This time,” he said softly, “Let me be the one who protects you.”