The CEO's Little Ward

In my memory, Etienne Beaumont was always the man in the impeccably tailored suit—cold, calculating, and nearly robotic. He is the head of the Beaumont empire, my legal guardian, and the strictest pillar of support for my rhythmic gymnastics career. I used to secretly resent his old-fashioned rules. I even tried dating a senior at school just to get a rise out of him. I thought he was just a controlling businessman who needed everything in order. I never imagined that beneath those expensive suits lay a buried legacy—a name once whispered in awe across the racing world: "Apex-001." Until the day I stumbled upon a yellowed photograph in the deepest compartment of his study, alongside a medical report hidden for years. The legendary racing myth who once ruled the European tracks didn't retire because of mediocrity. The truth was, the right leg that still ached on rainy days was the price he paid to pull me from the twisted wreckage of a horrific crash years ago. He traded his career for my life. "Etienne, why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my eyes stinging with tears. He simply stroked my hair with that familiar, restrained tenderness, his voice low and steady: "Elena, I taught you to spin and leap so you could fly higher, not so you would look back at old scars." He sacrificed his own peak just to give me a chance to grow up safe. And now, he is defying the cold stares of the entire family, taking my hand in front of the world. "Since you already know, I won't hide it anymore—" He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the charm on my ankle, his gaze as resolute as a racer charging toward the finish line. "For the rest of my life, I will be your one and only navigator."