I Was Their Clown, Now I Wear the Crown

I’ve thought about it a thousand times. What if I hadn’t saved her? What if I had just watched her get…

That year, my mom was critically ill. I was desperate for money for her surgery, so a shady agency tricked me into working as a valet at a hotel in Thailand.

Forced smiles, greetings, humiliation. Day after day, I was numb.

Until that night. I parked a guest's car in the underground garage. As I walked past the trunk, I heard a woman's faint cries for help.

Along with the muffled screams, I could hear the violent thud of a body hitting the inside of the car.

My heart hammered against my ribs. On some crazy impulse, I popped the trunk.

A terrified but stunningly beautiful face stared back at me.

She was tied up, her expensive beige suit a mess, her mouth sealed shut with duct tape.

When she saw me, her dim, tear-filled eyes lit up. She started struggling wildly, muffled sounds escaping the tape. I could barely make out a few words in my own language.

A jolt went through me, and my mind flashed with images of what could happen to her.

This woman, so classy and obviously from a wealthy family, was about to have her life destroyed in a country like Thailand, where a woman's life can be cheap. If I hadn't found her, she would have been condemned to a miserable existence.

Blood rushed to my head. I ripped the ropes off her. Before I could even think to call the cops, a short, vicious-looking man in the distance spotted us and came charging, screaming in rage.

"Run! Call the police!" I yelled at her, then threw myself at the guy.

She took her chance and fled like a butterfly in the wind, not even a "thank you" whispered in my direction.

As she passed, I saw the terror etched onto her gorgeous face.

The short man saw her escape and flew into a rage, pulling a knife. I didn't care that my palm was sliced open; I grabbed the blade with my bare hand and twisted it away from him.

In the struggle, I defended myself and stabbed him in the stomach. Blood poured from the wound as he collapsed, howling in pain on the concrete floor.

Minutes later, Thai police sirens echoed through the garage. They hauled us both to the station.

That day was the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it.

The short guy covered his ass. He never mentioned the kidnapping. He told the cops I'd attacked him for no reason, that I'd tried to kill him.

He didn't just want me to pay his medical bills; he wanted me charged with attempted murder.

At first, I was calm. I told the truth. I said the woman could vouch for me, that the garage had security cameras.

But the police told me there was no trace of the woman. And, conveniently, the security cameras in the garage were broken that night. Nothing was recorded.

The only "fact" was that I had tried to kill someone.

My blood ran cold, but I still held out hope that the woman I saved would show up. I was a fool.

She never appeared. It was like she vanished off the face of the earth.

Ultimately, I was extradited back to the States and sentenced to three years for attempted murder.

I also had to pay $30,000 for the guy’s medical bills and “emotional damages.” Every penny I had saved from selling my soul to that agency was gone in an instant.

News of my prison sentence spread through my hometown like a plague.

My mother, who had just barely survived her surgery, had a relapse that almost killed her. My father, shamed by his son the convict, disowned me.

Before I went in, my girlfriend of five years swore she'd wait for me. But her visits became less and less frequent. Finally, she sent me a letter. She was done waiting.

Those years in prison were the darkest of my life. I became violent, angry, always fighting. My body is a roadmap of ugly scars.

The day I got out, I desperately wanted to win her back. I found her, the woman who promised to wait. She was holding another man's hand.

A handsome, mature guy driving an Audi A8. He and my beautiful ex-girlfriend looked perfect together.

I was stunned, consumed by a burning rage to confront her. But I stopped myself. I just stood there, watching her get into his Audi and drive away, leaving me in the dust.

I remembered the last line of her letter: Kian, I found someone just as good as you. Forget me.

I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. I walked the streets of Seaview City alone, drinking and smoking until I collapsed on the sidewalk.

I lost myself in cigarettes and alcohol, numbing the pain. I started to laugh more, a loud, vulgar, don't-give-a-damn kind of laugh.

At first, I hated the woman I saved. The one who let me rot in prison.

She ruined everything!

But as time went on, I realized hating her was useless. It only made me more pathetic.

So, I tried to pull myself together.

Finding a job with a prison record is next to impossible. I faced one condescending look and sneer after another.

But fate threw me a bone. A software company was desperate to land a huge deal in Thailand and needed tech and sales staff who could speak Thai.

Maybe because they were in such a hurry, they didn't run a deep background check. I miraculously passed the final interview. I finally had a job, a chance to get my life back on track.

Hope started to flicker inside me again.

On my first day, I dressed my best and walked into the company full of optimism. After finishing the new-hire paperwork, an HR rep led me to the Sales Director's office to meet my new boss.

The HR rep told me she was the daughter of the group's CEO, had just returned from overseas, and was prettier than any movie star. Every guy in the office had a crush on her.

The office door swung open. And when I saw the beautiful woman with delicate features sitting behind the large desk, I froze.

The memories I had buried deep in my mind came flooding back. That terrified, beautiful face, those pleading, tear-filled eyes…

I never would have guessed. The woman I saved in that hotel garage three years ago—the woman who cost me my freedom, my family, my love, my entire life.

She was my new boss.

My parents’ tears when I was sentenced, the darkness of prison, my girlfriend in another man's arms…

The unbearable memories spun wildly in my head.

Three years of suppressed hatred surged through me like a tidal wave.