The fake heiress who had stolen Juliet’s place for over twenty years.
She blinked at me playfully, her lips curling into a teasing smile.
"If my sister doesn’t want you, can’t I?"
I flinched, yanking my shirt back on, desperate to put distance between us.
Genevieve had spent over two decades as a wealthy heiress, carrying an air of effortless detachment. Now that her position in the family had grown uncertain, she usually steered clear of conflict with Juliet whenever possible.
This was the first time she had ever taken the initiative to fight for something.
I never expected that something to be me.
"You must be joking, Miss Genevieve."
She didn’t seem offended. Instead, she simply shook the medicine bottle in her hand, her tone light.
"I wouldn’t joke about this. I think you’re great, capable, good-looking, definitely my type."
Though she wasn’t truly an heiress, the confidence ingrained in her over the years remained intact.
I studied her, trying to decipher her motives. Maybe this was just her way of reclaiming something, anything after Juliet had taken so much from her.
Scoffing at myself, I took the medicine from her and sank onto the chair.
"Miss Genevieve, Juliet already has a new target. You don’t need to waste your time on me."
She didn’t argue. Instead, her gaze swept over my small quarters before she turned and left.
By dinnertime, the two who had spent all day locked away finally emerged.
The family welcomed Sebastian with warmth, inviting him to join them at the table.
As they settled into their seats, Sebastian pulled out a chair for Juliet, his every gesture brimming with attentiveness.
Her parents beamed, nodding in approval.
"I’ve always heard that Young Master Remington isn’t like the others in his circle, that he’s loyal. We’ll be at ease entrusting our daughter to you."
The meal unfolded harmoniously, except for my mistake.
Archer Radcliffe, Juliet’s father, had always been aware of my past with her. He usually turned a blind eye, but when I accidentally dropped a glass, my injured hand failing me, his gaze darkened. He didn’t see it as an accident; he saw it as a provocation.
Sebastian, ever the opportunist, seized the moment to taunt me.
"This bodyguard is really dedicated, Uncle Archer. Juliet spent the night at my place and he called all night."
Archer slammed his palm against the table, his face darkening as he pointed at me.
"Get out! A bodyguard has no right to meddle in his master’s affairs!"
I kept my head down, silent. As long as Juliet didn’t order me to leave, I refused to go.
My lack of response only fueled Archer’s rage.
"We can’t afford to keep you! Get lost before you ruin my daughter’s marriage!"
I turned to Juliet.
She didn’t even glance my way, too busy plucking the best cuts of meat for Sebastian, her laughter soft, sweet, indifferent.
The silence stretched until Genevieve finally spoke, her voice calm yet deliberate.
"Dad, why not assign him to protect me instead?"
Archer hesitated, momentarily thrown off by her request.
Juliet, who had been all too focused on Sebastian, finally reacted. Her gaze turned sharp, cutting straight through Genevieve.
"My people are not for you to take. Who do you think you are?"
A flicker of something reckless ignited in my chest.
Juliet still couldn’t let me go.
But her next words sent me plummeting into the abyss.
"Come here and peel shrimp for Young Master Remington."
