My Fiancé Woke Up Obsessed With My Best Friend

Chapter 8

Vanessa was trembling, desperately kowtowing on the floor, pleading for mercy.

"Your Highness, I was wrong! I was blind—I didn't know she was your princess!"

"Danna, I'm sorry, truly! Please, save me again! I'll be your servant, your slave—I'll do anything!"

But I had already lost consciousness. There was no chance for her to be saved this time.

The doctors moved swiftly, transferring me to the most luxurious hospital suite in New York. French military doctors remained by my side, while a second team of international experts was en route, expected to arrive within the hour.

When I finally woke, the first thing I saw was Charles—his red, tear-stained eyes and the exhaustion in his face. He looked as though he hadn't slept a wink all night.

He grasped my hand tightly, his warm palm brushing my forehead gently. His voice was rough, almost breaking as he whispered, "Darling, you scared me so much…"

"Do you know how terrified I was? I thought I might lose you… It's my fault—I couldn't protect you."

As he spoke, he lowered his head and pressed it against my chest, like a child seeking comfort.

This was Charles—the Prince of France, normally commanding and decisive. Yet, in this moment, he was fragile and vulnerable, showing a side of him only I knew—his deepest fears and grief.

Years ago, he had stood at the altar, hand in hand with the woman he loved. The moment he placed the ring on her finger, gunfire erupted. She threw herself in front of him, taking the bullet meant for him. That moment haunted Charles for years, becoming a nightmare he couldn't escape.

The woman he loved, the wedding they dreamed of, were both taken from him in an instant.

Despite the king's retaliation, it did nothing to heal Charles's broken heart. From then on, he remained cold and distant. Over thirty, not a single woman had come close to him since.

Until he met me.

We first crossed paths on a street torn apart by gunfire. That day, I pulled a shaken Charles into a basement for cover. Despite his towering six-foot-three frame, he curled into my arms like a frightened child, whispering repeatedly, "Don't… Alice, please don't leave me…"

I held him gently, reassuring him, "I won't leave. I'll stay with you… always."

That day, under my calm voice and comforting touch, Charles finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke, his eyes were sharp, piercing. He simply said, "Thank you."

Two days later, he showed up to pick me up in person, telling me he had prepared a dinner to express his gratitude. I was confused—dinner? At home?

But the car pulled up to a castle. That's when I realized I had unknowingly saved Prince Charles of France.

That night, he treated me to a formal dinner, like the gentleman he was. Afterward, he led me to a room filled with priceless treasures—rare jewels and artifacts shimmering in the soft light.

He rubbed his hands together nervously and said, "Danna, you can take any of these gems you like. But… I have one selfish request. Will you agree to it?"

I blinked at him in confusion. What could he possibly want from me?

Charles hesitated, his face turning red, and finally stammered, "Could you… hold me to sleep again, like last time?"

Had I not known his true identity, I might have thought he was being shameless.

But as he nervously fumbled with his words, I slowly began to understand. Behind Prince Charles's powerful and commanding exterior, there was a man haunted by his past.

Every time he closed his eyes, he relived that moment—the gunfire, the blood, Alice in her wedding dress collapsing in front of him. Since then, he had barely managed two hours of sleep a night. No doctor could help him. It was a psychological wound—post-traumatic stress—that only he could heal.

That street shooting had triggered his deepest fears. Separated from his guards, I had found him and protected him. That night—because of me—he finally slept peacefully for the first time in years.

Looking into his pleading eyes, I couldn't bring myself to say no.

So, I held him as he drifted into sleep again, but I never took a single jewel from that room.