Chapter 1

Eight years ago, I was framed for drunk driving, a tragedy that claimed dozens of lives.

I wanted to expose the truth, but I found my parents had already fabricated evidence for my adopted brother, Caleb, forcing me to take the fall.

I pleaded with my fiancée, Ashley, but she just screamed, calling me a murderer.

Later, the victims' families, in their grief-fueled rage, brutally severed my hand tendons, leaving me unable to ever hold a paintbrush again.

Eight years on, I walked out of prison and became a security guard.

My former fiancée, Ashley, reappeared.

Her eyes were red, her voice laced with accusation as she gritted out:

"Leo, why did you disappear? Do you have any idea how long your parents and I have been looking for you?"

I sat motionless in the security booth, dressed in my uniform.

"Ma'am, I think you've got the wrong person."

But Ashley wouldn't let it go. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to drag me out.

"You're always so stubborn. Eight years ago, your stubbornness killed so many people. How long are you going to keep this up?"

Her voice was loud, but it choked off the moment her gaze fell upon my right hand.

She lowered her head, staring at my twisted hand, her fingers trembling as they traced the grotesque scars.

Eight years had passed, and the old wounds no longer hurt.

But Ashley's fingertips felt like knives, slicing open my old scars inch by inch.

Cold sweat instantly drenched my clothes. The terror of having my tendons brutally severed eight years ago came rushing back, and I couldn't stop my body from shaking uncontrollably.

Ashley's voice was hoarse.

"Leo, back then, did it hurt?"

"I'm sorry."

I didn't answer her, but her strange behavior had already drawn the attention of the security captain. He ran over anxiously, shouting,

"What are you doing? Let him go!"

Before he could get close, a group of students from a nearby art academy swarmed Ashley.

"You're Ashley, aren't you? The most famous artist in the country! Could you sign an autograph for me?"

Thanks to those students, Ashley released me. I instinctively took a step back, widening the distance between us.

The captain finally understood what was happening. He turned to me, his face filled with shock.

"These students are saying you're someone important. Who exactly are you?"

Before I could answer, one of the students spoke again.

"I heard you've been looking for your fiancé from back then, the one who caused all that trouble. It couldn't be this security guard, could it?"

The student gave me a dismissive glance.

"But your fiancé was a prodigy artist. This guy's just a security guard, and he's disabled. You must have the wrong person."

I gave a bitter laugh. Yeah, that's me. Now, I can't even hold a paintbrush. There's nothing left of my old self.

But Ashley, who was signing autographs, heard it. Her face instantly darkened, and her hand stopped mid-signature.

"Shut up!"

"This is between Leo and me. It's not for you to talk about!"

She pushed through the crowd and walked towards me, extending a gilded invitation.

I looked down, the words on the card stinging my eyes.

[Caleb Miller & Ashley Wedding Invitation]

So, she was marrying my adopted brother.

"Leo."

A flicker of pain crossed Ashley's face.

"Your mistake eight years ago caused me so much pain. Caleb was there for me, he stood by me for eight years. I can't let him down."

"You once said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. I hope you'll come."

I took Ashley's wedding invitation and simply placed it on the counter beside me, ignoring it.

Just as I thought the matter was over, that very night, I received a termination notice from the factory.

"You're still young, and you used to be a great artist. You're too good for this place."

Mr. Henderson's voice trembled as he spoke over the phone.

"I'll pay you $500 for this month, but please, just don't come back."

I was stunned. Before I could ask for more details, he had already blocked my number.

Then, Ashley's call came through.

"Leo."

Her voice was thick with exhaustion.

"You shouldn't be a security guard. I've talked to the factory. Come home. Your parents and I will take care of you. I can even help you get back into the art world. You don't have to..."

She hadn't finished her sentence before I hung up.