Everyone in Boston knew that Linwood Craig, the heir to the wealthiest family in town, had a personal body pillow.

Since Linwood's parents passed away when he was ten, he had been suffering from chronic insomnia. Unless he was holding something in his arms, he couldn't fall asleep.

When word spread, the Craigs' debtors scrambled to offer their daughters to be his human pillow.

When asked to pick one, Linwood, dressed in a small black suit, pointed at Tabitha Buckley, the thinnest girl in the corner.

"I want her," he said.

That choice lasted for twelve years.

From A-list celebrities to prominent socialites, Linwood dated countless girls. But no matter how much of a playboy he appeared, he always returned to Tabitha at night, holding her in his arms like she was a plush toy.

Once, an arrogant girl he was seeing tried to drive Tabitha away. The very next day, that girl's family business went broke.

In front of everyone, Linwood casually announced, "I'm used to going to sleep with Tabitha in my arms. Anyone who touches her is my enemy."

Everyone agreed that Tabitha was special to Linwood. They had long become inseparable.

But everything changed the moment Sheila Skeldon appeared.

This ballet dancer was like a beam of light, illuminating Linwood's world. For her, he stopped playing around, quit smoking and drinking, and even canceled important business negotiations just to bring her flowers after a performance.

Spoiled by his affection, Sheila became increasingly willful.

One day, she discovered Tabitha's journal—a collection of soft, secret words confessing her one-sided love for Linwood. With a sneer, she had her people pin Tabitha to the floor and slapped her a hundred times.

When Linwood came home, Sheila asked him, "Are you upset because I hit Tabitha?"

Glancing at Tabitha's bruised and swollen face, Linwood replied, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather, "It takes love to be upset. I don't love her. Why would I be upset because of her?"

He checked his wristwatch and ordered, " Tabitha, go back and have your wounds bandaged. Come to my room in four hours."

Tabitha knew—those four hours were how long he and Sheila were gonna make love.

Lying on the bed in the medical room, she cried as the disinfectant stung her wounds, her tears mingling with blood.

Late that night, when Linwood reached for her as usual, she instinctively flinched.

"Stop throwing a tantrum," he said, his breath tinged with cigar smoke as he seized her wrist. "Tabitha, you're not my type. To me, you're just a body pillow I've grown accustomed to. I don't love you, so you can't love me either.

"As long as you behave, you'll be set for life."

That night, Tabitha's tears soaked through the goose-down pillow. But it wasn't the physical pain that hurt—it was his words.

Early the next morning, she received a text message from her father. "Tabby, we'll be completely free of debt to the Craig family next month. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. But soon, you'll be free."

Looking at Linwood sleeping soundly beside her, Tabitha gently pulled back her arm, which had gone numb under his weight.

She whispered under her breath, "Linwood, soon, I'll no longer be your human pillow."

Tabitha lay on her side, quietly gazing at Linwood's sleeping face.

He was undeniably handsome. Even in sleep, he carried an innate, frost-like elegance. His nose was high-bridged, his jawline sharp and chiseled, his lips pressed into a thin line.

For twelve years, she had watched this face, secretly adoring it from the shadows. He was her entire youth.

Back then, the Buckley family's cash flow had ruptured, owing the Craig family an astronomical sum that brought them to the brink of collapse.

Upon hearing that the future heir to the Craig family needed someone to help him sleep, every indebted family in town had offered their daughters in exchange for mercy.

That day, Tabitha had worn a faded dress, hiding at the back of the crowd, trembling like a frightened rabbit. The last thing she expected was for a pair of feet in expensive leather shoes to stop in front of her. Linwood had pointed a slender finger at her.

Her first days at the Craig villa were filled with terror, leaving her crying constantly.

Until that stormy night, amidst the downpour, Linwood was haunted by a nightmare. He broke into a cold sweat, clutched her hand tightly, and murmured in her ear like a helpless child, "Don't leave me."

In that moment, the softest part of her heart was touched. She was no longer afraid of him. Instead, the fear was replaced by a fierce urge to protect him.

From that day on, he—the seemingly aloof teenager burdened with profound trauma—became her deepest secret.

Over the years, he had been with so many girlfriends that she had long lost count. Each was brilliant, charming, and from a prominent family.

But no matter how frivolous he seemed, anyone who tried to mess with her, even with the slightest inappropriate remark, paid a heavy price.

For her, Linwood had once bankrupted a popular celebrity's family business overnight and forced a wealthy socialite who tried to humiliate her to make a public apology. She was his absolute territory, sacred and inviolable.

His spoiling and protection led Tabitha to falsely believe she meant something different to him.

She carefully concealed her feelings, thinking that if she stayed by his side long enough, he might one day notice her.

But Sheila's appearance was a physical blow that jolted her completely awake.

It turned out Linwood's protection had absolutely nothing to do with affection. It was merely because he was used to her as his body pillow and wouldn't allow anyone to jeopardize that habit.

He had said, "You're not my type. To me, you're just a body pillow I've grown accustomed to." The blade of his words plunged deep into her heart, shattering twelve years of infatuation.

The hundred slaps had reddened and swollen her face, breaking her humble love entirely.

Reading her father's text message now, she felt only numbness and calm.

Perhaps this was for the best.

Once her family cleared their debt to the Craig family, she could leave and start over somewhere else—a life without Linwood.

She dressed gently and got out of bed, trying not to make a sound.

Downstairs in the dining room, Sheila was elegantly having breakfast.

At the sight of Tabitha, she set down her fork and knife, gave Tabitha a scrutinizing once-over, and curled her lips into a mocking smile.

"Sure enough, he didn't touch you—again." The triumph in her voice was undisguised. "I read your journal line by line yesterday. Wow, impressive, Tabitha. You've been in love with Woody since you were ten? You certainly hid it well. What a pity that you could never become his girlfriend, even after all these years. You're such a failure."

Head lowered, Tabitha fetched some water as if she hadn't heard Sheila.

Sheila's face darkened as she was ignored. "I'm talking to you, Tabitha. Are you deaf?"

She stood up, strode over, and reached out to grab Tabitha's arm, digging her manicured nails in deliberately.

In pain, Tabitha instinctively tried to break free. She swung her arm, and Sheila stumbled backward as if pushed by a great force. She let out a sharp exclamation, and the next second, her forehead slammed into a nearby pillar.

Blood instantly oozed out.

The commotion quickly drew Linwood's attention.

He strode downstairs, his face darkening as he took in the scene. He immediately went to help Sheila up, the nervousness in his voice something Tabitha had never heard before. "Shelly, what happened?"

Leaning into his arms, Sheila burst into tears. Pointing at Tabitha, she said, her voice aggrieved and pitiful, "Woody... I just wanted to ask if her wounds were better... But she's still holding a grudge and pushed me..."

Her act was so clumsy. Tabitha quickly explained, "I didn't push her. She—"

"Enough!" Linwood cut her off, his gaze razor-sharp, his tone stern. "Tabitha, it seems what I said to you yesterday meant nothing. Is that right?"

He turned to the servants nearby and commanded coldly, "Drag Tabitha to the staircase and push her down. She needs to learn her lesson."

Tabitha's eyes widened in disbelief. She felt as if an invisible hand were gripping her heart, the immense pain leaving her suffocated.

Linwood didn't care about the truth. For Sheila's minor injury, he was actually going to have her thrown down the stairs!

Two servants stepped forward and seized her arms.

She struggled, cried, and explained at the top of her lungs that she hadn't pushed Sheila, but throughout it all, Linwood was carefully examining the wound on Sheila's forehead, not even glancing in her direction.

She was dragged roughly to the top of the staircase and then pushed hard from behind.

Her world turned upside down.

She crashed into the hard steps, her body making a dull thud. A searing pain shot through her forehead, elbows, knees, and across her entire body.

Like a broken doll, she tumbled down the stairs. Her vision blurred as warm fluid trickled from her forehead, obscuring her sight.

Lying on the cold floor, Tabitha heard Linwood speaking gently to Sheila. "Don't be afraid. I'm taking you to the hospital."

Then his footsteps faded into the distance.

Throughout it all, he never once glanced in Tabitha's direction.

The servants exchanged uneasy looks, but without his explicit order, no one dared to help her up.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.

Breathing with difficulty, she mustered the last of her strength to pull her phone from her pocket. With trembling fingers, she called for an ambulance.

The siren soon pierced the air. As she was carried onto the stretcher, she took one last look at the villa she had called home for twelve years, overwhelmed by a profound and final despair.

Her days in the hospital were a different kind of suffering.

While her physical wounds slowly healed, the one in her heart was ripped open again and again by the nurses' whispered gossip.

"Mr. Craig spoils Ms. Skeldon rotten. He stays by her side in the VIP suite all day and even tests the water temperature before letting her drink."

"Totally. I heard he canceled several important meetings just to care for her."

"Hey, I heard Ms. Buckley in the general ward was also hurt at his villa. Why does he treat her as nothing?"

"You have no idea. Ms. Skeldon is Mr. Craig's one and only. Ms. Buckley? She's been by his side for twelve years, but she's just ... physical comfort to him. Twelve years! And he still feels nothing for her. How could she ever compare to Ms. Skeldon?"

Each word was salt rubbed into Tabitha's unhealed wounds.

She forced herself not to listen, not to think, and began to seriously contemplate her future.

She had always loved music and dreamed of studying abroad.

In the past, she had stayed for Linwood. His parents died in a plane crash, leaving him with a deep aversion to flying, so he never went abroad. For him, she had buried her own dream.

But now, it seemed, she could pick it up again.

Once she left, their paths would never cross again.

On the day of her discharge, she immediately applied for a visa to study abroad.

Back at the villa, she found the living room packed with extravagant gifts Linwood had bought for Sheila.

It struck her then that in the past, Linwood had always brushed off his girlfriends with a supplementary card boasting an astonishing credit limit. He never bothered to personally select gifts for any of them.

But for Sheila, he remembered she liked a dress by a niche designer, bought extravagant jewelry simply because she said "It's nice", canceled work for her every performance, and picked her up with food when she rehearsed late into the night.

So, this was what he was like when truly in love.

Tabitha felt a bitter urge to laugh. She had been utterly delusional for twelve entire years.

She turned silently, intending to retreat to her room and escape the glaring scene.

"Tabitha? Is that you?" Just then, Sheila's voice came from the bathroom. "I forgot my change of clothes. It's on the bed in my bedroom. Could you get them for me?"

Tabitha stopped. After a few seconds of silence, she turned and went upstairs to Sheila's room.

Pushing the door open, she was met with Sheila's perfume, mixed with the faint scent of the cigars Linwood occasionally smoked.

She walked to the bed and bent down to pick up the silk nightdress.

Suddenly, someone held her from behind. The scorching heat of a body overwhelmed her at once, the strong smell of alcohol mixed with that familiar masculine scent filling her nostrils.

Utterly startled, she froze. A second later, she turned and met Linwood's drunken gaze.

He was clearly intoxicated, his eyes unfocused. Mistaking her for Sheila, he kissed her neck, his lips hot and laced with alcohol.

"Shelly..." he murmured, his burning breath spraying against her ear as he lowered his head to kiss her again.

"You're wrong! I'm not Sheila!" Tabitha struggled desperately, her heart practically leaping out of her chest.

But the strength of a drunk man was astonishing. He pinned her down firmly on the soft bed, tearing at her clothes, his heavy body rendering her immobilized.

"Don't move... Let me hold you..." His kisses scattered chaotically across her neck, carrying an irresistible force.

Just as Tabitha was plunging into despair, a sharp gasp came from the doorway.