They Protected My Murderer, So I Walked Away from Them All Chapter 01

They Protected My Murderer, So I Walked Away from Them All Chapter 01

After three years in a coma from a car wreck, everyone treated me like spun glass.

They ran my life on a shared calendar, making sure I was never left to myself.

My brother Nico had morning duty, driving me to physical therapy.

My best friend Valerie handled the afternoons, filling the hours with shopping bags and movie tickets.

Come evening, my father—the Don—would pick me up in person and bring me home to a hot dinner cooked by my mother.

When the plates were cleared, Damian would come to take me back to his place.

Curled against his chest before sleep, I would look up and laugh.

“You don’t need to treat me like a child, Damian. I’m not going to get hurt again.”

He never laughed. He only shook his head, his face deadpan and heavy.

“Aurora, you’re the family. None of us can survive losing you twice.”

I fell asleep every night believing I was the most cherished woman alive.

Until I caught sight of a group chat on Valerie’s phone—one I wasn’t part of.

The thread name: Operation: Damian & Bianca.

The latest text was from Valerie:

[Aurora and I just sat down in the theater. You’re clear to take Bianca home.]

I scrolled up.

Nico: [Taking Aurora to Central Park. Keep Bianca away from the coffee shop on Fifth.]

Further up, my parents:

[Aurora’s finished dinner. Drop Bianca off, then come get her.]

I tapped Bianca’s profile picture.

A cold numbness crept down my spine.

It was her.

The girl who destroyed my life was secretly involved with my fiancé.

And every single person I loved was running cover for them.

The lobby around us was alive with chatter.

Our soldiers moved through the perimeter, dead-eyed, mapping every exit.

Yet I felt completely untethered, trapped in a silent vacuum.

A light touch at my wrist snapped me back. Valerie was studying my face.

“Everything okay, Aurora?”

The theater had gone dark, the opening titles casting a cold green tint across us.

I shook my head and handed her phone and purse back.

“I’m just running to the ladies’ room.”

Her fingers clamped around my wrist, a fraction too tight. “Want me to come with?”

The years of affection between us turned to ash in my mouth.

I forced the corner of my lips up.

“It’s just the restroom, Val. Don’t trust me to walk ten yards alone?”

Guilt flashed behind her eyes.

She loosened her grip, forcing an awkward smile.

“Just… hurry back.”

I slipped out into the hall, took the back stairs down, and hailed a cab at the curb.

The moment the taxi pulled up to the curb outside Damian’s estate, my screen lit up with his name.

I didn’t answer. I just scrolled back through my call log.

A missed call every thirty minutes. Like clockwork.

I used to call him paranoid, and he’d just pull me in tight—hard enough to press the breath straight out of me.

“I need to know you’re breathing, Aurora. I can’t sleep unless I know.”

The family doctor warned me Damian was suffering from severe post-trauma. If anything touched me again, it would break him.

So I answered every single ring. I checked in with my coordinates like a good soldier.

All of it—just to clear the schedule so he and Bianca could play house.

The screen went black, then lit up again with another incoming call.

I swiped to accept. Damian’s breath came across the line.

“Where are you, Aurora? Valerie said you never came back from the restroom.”

I blinked against the dry heat in my eyes, keeping my voice level.

“It was stifling in there. I stepped out for some air.”

A beat of silence followed, filled only by his uneven breathing.

Thick. Heated. Catching in his throat.

“Don’t do that to me, Aurora. You took 10 years off my life.”

A brief pause. “Where are you? I’ll send Valerie to pick you up.”

I didn’t answer.

I stood outside his estate, tucked into the shadow of the gate, staring up at his drawn bedroom curtains.

Through the receiver came Damian’s low murmur, followed by a woman’s intimate whisper.

The sound shattered the last bit of trust I had left.

I hung up and leaned against the stone wall, barely able to steady myself.

I barely managed to push myself upright when the heavy front doors swung open.

Two figures stepped out onto the driveway.

Bianca White—the girl who put me in a coma three years ago.

And Damian Russo—the man who swore an oath on his life never to forsake me.