Chapter 11

Alden's indulgence toward Vivian was excessive. As her bodyguard, he accompanied her as she shopped, dined, and watched movies. If she casually mentioned craving pastries from the century-old bakery in the west district, he'd personally line up at 3:00 am to get them. When her feet ached from hours of shopping, he'd kneel without hesitation to massage her ankles, indifferent to the stares around them. If Vivian admired a new collection from a high-end jewelry designer, Alden—the Wilders' scion—would quietly acquire the entire set and have it delivered to her doorstep. He'd named constellations after her when she said she loved the stars. When someone earned her anger, they'd vanish from their circle by dawn. Alden's friends said he was wrapped around Vivian's finger. And they weren't wrong. That day, Vivian insisted they drive to the countryside to watch the sunset. On the way back, a truck veered out of control, hurtling straight toward them. At the last second, Alden jerked th