The Invincible Protector

At a high-end cafe in Lucset.

The coffee was notably bitter, yet the woman facing Waylon Cooper was undeniably stunning.

She wore a sharp professional suit that complemented her striking figure beautifully.

Her features were perfectly sculpted: an unmade-up face, luminous eyes, and a brilliant smile. Despite her typically frosty demeanor, she resembled a flawless sculpture that commanded attention.

Her name was Debra Morgan, 26 years old, the formidable chairman and CEO of the Morgan Group, and by many accounts, the dream woman of countless men in Lucset.

And she was engaged to Waylon.

Between them on the glass table lay a check for one million dollars.

"This check is for a million, cashable anytime. Take it and leave," Debra said in a cool, detached tone, sliding the check across the table, her decision seemingly irrevocable.

Debra had always been assertive.

Yet, Waylon barely acknowledged the check, his eyes instead fixated on Debra, from her face down to her figure, as if she were the only thing in the world worth his attention.

"Are you done staring at me?" Debra frowned as she caught his lingering gaze.

"Sorry about that." Waylon quickly shifted his eyes away, offering a cheeky grin. "You're hot, honey. Congrats on making the cut to be my wife!"

"What?" Debra looked taken aback, her expression darkening instantly. "Waylon, are you misunderstanding something here? I'm asking you to take the check and forget about me."

"Oh, the check?" Waylon finally noticed the check. He glanced at it briefly then shook his head. "Tear it up. I'm not accepting this."

"Is it not enough?" Disdain flashed across Debra's eyes. She had no patience for greedy people.

"No, it's not about the amount. It's just not right." Waylon gave Debra a long look, then cracked a smile. "Your grandfather arranged our marriage before he died. A man's promise is his bond. I gave him my word I'd marry you, and I plan to keep it."

"But I don't like you!" Debra's tone was icy, and Waylon's stare only intensified her disgust. She couldn't fathom why her grandfather had chosen such a repulsive man for her to marry.

"Love can be developed over time," Waylon said, chuckling.

"I don't have the time for that."

"I do."

"You..."

Debra was seething with anger, yet she managed to compose herself. Her eyes were icy as she said, "We've never met before today. Don't you think this marriage is ridiculous?"

"It is somewhat ridiculous." Waylon gave a wry smile. "But like I told you, I made a promise to your grandfather, and I intend to keep it. However, if you decide to go against your grandfather's dying wish, I won't stand in your way."

"I..."

Debra found herself at a loss for words. Could she really defy her grandfather's last wish?

Before he passed away, her grandfather had explicitly told her to marry Waylon. Only a month had gone by since his death, and now Waylon had approached her. If she outright refused, wouldn't that be dishonoring her grandfather's memory?

She was determined to make this disgusting man withdraw voluntarily.

"I have no intention of defying my grandfather's wishes, but..." Debra sized Waylon up, imitating how he had looked at her earlier, followed by a sneer. "Do you honestly think you deserve me?"

"Absolutely," Waylon replied earnestly.

"Really?"

Debra was taken aback. She had thought her prestige would intimidate Waylon into backing down. Who could have guessed he didn't think she was out of his league?

Where did he get such confidence?

He was absolutely audacious!

By the time she was sixteen, Debra had been admitted to the top university in the world, earned a master's degree in economics by eighteen, a PhD by twenty, took control of the Morgan Group at twenty-one upon her return from overseas, and increased the company's size tenfold within five years.

She was hailed as a genius in the business world in Lucset, a blend of intellect and beauty. Men vying for her attention could form a line from Lucset to Haxrough. Each year, she graced the cover of the magazine featuring the most beautiful women in Lucset.

And Waylon?

He was just an average guy, dressed simply, with nothing but a well-proportioned body to his name. Among a crowd, Debra was confident she wouldn't even be able to pick him out.

However, this man actually told her seriously... that he deserved her?

Such a man deserved to be dismissed on the spot!

"Mr. Cooper," Debra took a deep breath and said, her laugh tinged with irritation, "I think you're seriously mistaken about both of us."

"You don't believe me?" Waylon gave a slight smile.

"How could I believe you?" Debra looked at Waylon as though he was out of his mind.

"Let's make a bet then," Waylon suggested.

"How do we do that?" Debra inquired.

"If you're not in love with me in three months, I'll exit your life and never bother you again. Think of it as me breaking the promise to your grandfather, not as your rejection of my proposal." Waylon's eyes locked on Debra's.

"Are you serious?"

"I am."

"You're giving me your word?" Debra gave a cold snort. "If I haven't fallen in love with you in three months, you'll leave, right?"

"But what if you do fall in love with me?" Waylon squinted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That's impossible," Debra stated firmly.

"I said 'if.'"

"If..."

Debra considered briefly before saying, "If I fall in love with you within three months, then I'll agree to whatever you ask, even if it's eating shit."

Debra was certain she wouldn't fall for Waylon, so the promise seemed harmless to her.

"I won't make you eat shit, but I can't promise I won't put something else in your mouth." Waylon's smirk grew more pronounced.

"You are disgusting!"

Seeing Waylon's gaze, Debra couldn't help but think of some disgusting scenes. She spat, stood up, and was about to leave. Her disdain for Waylon deepened.

"Hold on, my dear wife!" Waylon suddenly called out.

"I'm not your wife!" Debra exclaimed, her voice tinged with fury.

"After three months, you will be my wife," Waylon declared with a confident smile.

"Bastard..." Debra muttered, feeling a deep sense of revulsion. She had seen enough of Waylon's shamelessness and didn't want to waste her breath arguing with him. "Is there anything else you want?" she asked.

"Give me your house key. I'll live at your place for the next three months," Waylon said nonchalantly.

"Why do you want to live at my place?" Debra asked, her reluctance clear.

"Honey, are you silly?"

Waylon looked at Debra with a puzzled expression. "I'll stay at your place to build our relationship. Three months will go by fast. Let's work together and not disappoint your grandfather, okay?"

"You..."

Debra found herself at a loss for words. She was so angry, she wanted to shred the audacious Waylon to pieces.

She longed to yell that she wasn't interested in any romantic ties with him, nor was she willing to work together with him on such a matter. But could she actually say that out loud?

If she did, Waylon would surely tease her for dishonoring her late grandfather's memory and brand her an ungrateful granddaughter.

In the end, Debra knew she had no choice but to comply.

"You're set on staying in my house, aren't you? Fine, you win!"

Recognizing the futility of resistance and acknowledging her lack of control, Debra forcefully dropped her house key on the table and stormed off.

Would it really matter if he stayed at her place?

Living together for three months wouldn't change her feelings. Debra knew she'd never grow fond of him.

Even if Waylon moved into her house, it would only amplify her disdain and loathing for him.

"This will all be over in three months!" Debra silently fortified herself. Over the next three months, she was determined not to let this disrespectful man have an easy time.

However, after Debra took a few steps, Waylon's voice caused her to stumble nearly to the floor. "Oh, and honey, make sure to pay for the coffee before you leave. I'm out of cash!"

What was her grandfather thinking, setting her up with this kind of man? He couldn't even afford a cup of coffee!

That was just ridiculous!

After settling the bill, Debra exited the cafe, and shortly after, Waylon followed. About an hour later, he arrived at the city's most prestigious cemetery. Before him stood a tombstone marked with the name Ethan Morgan.

The engraved portrait of the old man looked kind and gentle. This was Debra's grandfather and Waylon's lifesaver.

Five years ago, during a mission in Mbita, Waylon had been severely injured. It was Ethan who had orchestrated his miraculous escape from his enemies.

Waylon never forgot that debt.

It was out of gratitude for Ethan's help that Waylon had agreed to marry Debra and vowed to guard her life fiercely, ensuring her safety always.

It was hard to believe that just over a month ago, Ethan, who had been speaking with Waylon over the phone, now lay here as mere ashes...

Waylon lit his final cigarette and inhaled deeply.

Looking at the tombstone, he murmured, "Ethan, you can rest easy now. As long as I'm around, Debra will be safe. And about your death... It's suspicious. I'll find out what happened and avenge you!"

After he finished his cigarette, Waylon didn't stick around. He left the cemetery, his solitary figure fading into the distance like a fierce wolf, scarred by numerous battles...

Debra had handed Waylon the key to her house, but she hadn't given him the exact address. Fortunately, over a month earlier, Ethan had filled Waylon in on everything about Debra, including where she lived.

Standing before Waylon was an impressive villa nestled deep within Blossom Villas. Painted a soft light blue, it boasted a quaint courtyard surrounded by lush greenery, radiating opulence.

"This villa is impressive. Guess this means I'm about to marry into a wealthy family, huh?" Waylon muttered under his breath, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at the villa that many men wished to enter. A sly, cheeky smile crept across his face.

"Marry into a wealthy family? Ha! Just look at yourself!"

Just as Waylon was about to enter the villa, a scornful voice cut through the air.

Waylon turned toward the voice and spotted a man in his thirties. The man wore gold-rimmed glasses and a sharp suit, marking him as someone successful. Clutching a bouquet of bright roses, he seemed to be waiting for someone.

"What are you staring at? You'll never be like me, loser!" the man with the gold-rimmed glasses scoffed. "This world is full of different folks. A simpleton like you dreaming of marrying into wealth? You're not even fit to be a servant for Debra!"

"Are you one of Debra's admirers?" Waylon eyed the man with gold-rimmed glasses and gave a curious smile.

"Absolutely!" the man with gold-rimmed glasses said scornfully. "Anyone who shows up here is chasing after Debra. Isn't that why you're here too? But let me give you a friendly tip. Get lost. With the way you look, Debra won't even give you a second glance."

"You've misunderstood. I'm not like you or the others," Waylon replied, still smiling.

"You are indeed different. You're just a country boy, nothing more! Meanwhile, I come from a distinguished family. I've achieved success and now I'm the general manager of my own company. Obviously, we're nothing alike!" the man with gold-rimmed glasses declared disdainfully.

"You're mistaken." Waylon shook his head. "What I'm saying is, while you're all chasing after Debra, I'm actually her husband. That's the difference."

"What? You're Debra's husband? What bullshit are you talking about?"

Initially shocked, the man with the gold-rimmed glasses burst out laughing. "That's hilarious! You, Debra's husband? Take a look at yourself. Why would you think you deserve her?"

"You don't believe me?" Waylon wondered if he really looked so unimpressive.

"Should I believe you?" the man with the gold-rimmed glasses sneered. "Hah, sounds like you're just obsessed with her!"

"What if I really am her husband?"

After a moment's thought, Waylon smiled, "I said 'if.'"

"If?" The man with gold-rimmed glasses snorted. "If you're truly Debra's husband, I'll eat your shit. But that can't be true, can it?"

"The truth will come out soon enough." Waylon grinned. "But eating shit is too gross. You're already gross enough. If I'm really Debra's husband, you hand over a thousand dollars. How about it?"

Waylon was short on cash after his sudden return home.

"Typical," the man with gold-rimmed glasses sneered, a smirk on his face. "A country boy only thinks about money!"

He tilted his head back arrogantly. "A thousand dollars is mere pocket change to me. Here's a better idea. If you really are Debra's husband, I'll give you ten thousand! But if you're not, I won't take your money. Instead, I want you to eat shit! Do you dare to take that bet?"

"I doubt you will be able to handle what happens next."

Waylon narrowed his eyes and pulled out a key from his pocket. It was the key that Debra had given him.

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses was taken aback.

As someone who had pursued Debra relentlessly over the years, he immediately recognized the keychain in Waylon's hand. Wasn't that the key Debra used to open her gate?

How did this simpleton get Debra's key?

Could he really be her husband?

John Griffiths, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, was speechless for a long moment as he stared at the familiar key in Waylon's hand. When he regained his composure, he burst out, "This can't be real! How on earth did you get Debra's key? Did you steal it from her?"

"Steal?" Waylon frowned, clearly annoyed. "Do you think everyone's a thief like you? My wife gave me this key herself! Enough with your nonsense. I've already proven that Debra is my wife. Now, give me the ten thousand dollars."

"You lowlife, you're nothing but a thief!" John's face flushed with anger as he shot back sharply. "You don't deserve Debra. I suggest you turn yourself in at the police station!"

"Planning to go back on your word, are you?" Waylon narrowed his eyes.

"Go back on my word? You clearly stole that key. How dare you accuse me of going back on my word?"

John's eyes seethed with bitterness. "It looks like you won't own up until I sort you out myself, you country bumpkin thief!"

John assumed the classic Taekwondo stance and took a decisive step toward Waylon. With a swift lunge, he aimed a punch directly at Waylon's head.

"Starting a fight, huh?"

Instead of backing down, Waylon deftly dodged John's punch and countered with a sharp shoulder jab to John's chest.

"Ouch!"

The force of the blow knocked John to the ground, making him yelp in pain as if he had been struck by a vehicle. He lay there curled up, writhing in agony.

It hurt terribly!

John had never felt such intense pain. It was as though his bones had been shattered all at once!

"What are you doing?" Just then, a crisp voice cut through the air.

Both Waylon and John looked up to see Debra stepping out of a Maserati. She looked stunning, her beauty cold and imposing.

John's pain momentarily forgotten, he scrambled to his feet and approached her. "Debra, you're back at last. Did you know your house key was stolen?"

"Stolen?" Debra's expression darkened.

"It's him!" John pointed accusingly at a grinning Waylon. "It was this country bumpkin who took your key. I've been battling him to get it back. After dozens of rounds, when he realized he couldn't overpower me, he resorted to dirty tricks and knocked me down. You arrived just in time. I'm holding him here while you call the police. We can't let him get away!"

Determined to win Debra's heart and her fortune, John clenched his teeth and resolved to confront Waylon once more.

"Wait!" Debra interjected.

John paused, turning to face Debra with a puzzled expression.

Debra gave John an odd look and said, "Mr. Griffiths, it seems there's been a misunderstanding. First off, we barely know each other, so there's no need for you to intervene on my behalf. Secondly, the so-called thief hasn't actually stolen anything. I was the one who gave him that key."

"What?" John was taken aback. "Really? You gave him the key? Is he... Is he really your husband?"

"Husband?"

Debra arched an eyebrow, quickly piecing things together. She shot Waylon a frosty look, spotting his self-satisfied grin, which only added to her irritation.

She was tempted to refute it.

But then she recalled how exasperating it was to deal with John's persistent intrusions...

Debra, after carefully considering her options, nodded definitively at John. "Yes, he's my husband!"

John's eyes widened in shock.

Countless rich playboys in Lucset had chased after Debra for years, yet she had chosen this simpleton? It was beyond belief!

"Do you believe me now?"

Waylon's laughter, filled with triumph, echoed in John's ears. "You've lost the bet. Give me the ten thousand dollars."

"Lost the bet?"

Debra was confused. What was he talking about?

"Bastard. Just take it!"

With no further reason to doubt, John angrily pulled out ten thousand dollars from his pocket and handed it to Waylon. "We'll see about that in the future!"

With those biting words, John quickly climbed into his luxury car parked nearby and drove off.

"Earning money from these stupid rich guys is too easy," Waylon remarked, about to count his winnings when he noticed something odd about Debra.

He gazed into Debra's mesmerizing eyes, which sparkled with menace.

"Waylon!" Debra shot Waylon a fierce look. "Were you using me to gamble with him? What do you think I am?"

"You are my wife," Waylon replied nonchalantly. "I didn't bring much money back this time. So, if some idiot wants to hand over his cash, why should I refuse? Otherwise, I'd be the idiot, wouldn't I?"

"I'm not your wife yet!" Debra's heart ached with frustration. "And even if I were, it's wrong for you to use me in your bets with others!"

"That's a fair point." Waylon thought it over for a second, then said earnestly, "Alright, I promise you, once you're really my wife, I'll never involve you in any bets."

"What?"

Debra was shocked. So he'd refrain from using her in bets once they were married. Did that mean he would do that again before they were married?

"Bastard..."

Debra felt a surge of anger, but just as she was about to confront Waylon further, her phone rang from inside her purse.

Waylon had already started counting the money.

"We'll discuss this later!" Debra glared at Waylon once more before answering the phone, her tone frosty. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Have I upset you lately?" A voice that was both sweet and frustrated reached her from the other end.

Debra, caught off guard by the voice, glanced at her phone and realized it was her best friend, Rylee Simpson, on the line. She chided herself for letting her anger toward Waylon cloud her awareness to the point of not checking the caller ID.

"I'm upset with a bastard," Debra muttered, her voice tight as she glared at Waylon, who was busy counting money next to her.

"What kind of bastard has got you so upset? Why don't you introduce them to me?" Rylee's laughter rang through, light and infectious.

"You'll meet him soon enough." Debra sighed, her annoyance lingering. "I just got home. Why did you call?"

"You're home already?" Rylee sounded shocked. "Hold off on coming back. The kitchen's water pipe burst. Go get someone from the property management to handle it!"

"Got it."

Debra ended the call and made her way to the property management office.

Waylon, having finished counting the money, noticed Debra's absence. He grumbled to himself, "Handling her is no simple task. She didn't even drop a hint before going home alone."

He walked into the villa's courtyard and used the key Debra had given him to unlock the front gate.

The moment the gate swung open, Waylon was taken aback by the sight that greeted him.