Chapter 3
After deleting a dozen emails, my mom kept bringing me broth for a week straight.
By the time I was ready to puke from all that broth, I finally caved and agreed to meet the candidates.
The first guy they set me up with was Minister Ben Kingsley's son—an Arvard Business School grad, now a VP at some big investment bank.
We met at a members-only restaurant, and he spent the whole night droning on about the stock market and policies, occasionally dropping his so-called hot takes about the economy back home.
I had to knock back two strong espressos just to keep from nodding off.
The second candidate was the Rich family's younger son, a gallery owner and artist.
He was passionately explaining the brilliance of postmodernism and deconstructionism, but honestly, my thoughts wandered off to the project budget spreadsheet from this morning's meeting.
The third candidate was Emmett Sterling, the infamous "imposter heir" of the Sterling family—the guy who once stirred up a city-wide scandal.
Back then, the nanny's kid-switching incident set off a wave of panic in our circle—so many families quietly rushed to get paternity tests.
He arrived right on the dot, wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit, his smile gentle and polished. When he handed me his business card, his nails were immaculate.
"I've heard so much about you, Ms. Vance," he said, giving a slight bow with impeccable poise.
"Mr. Sterling," I replied.
I took his card and glanced at it—Director of the Sterling Group Strategic Investment Division.
The title carried real weight, unlike some people who held honorary positions just for show.
We talked about the latest industry trends, and honestly, his insights were pretty impressive. He really knew his stuff when it came to investing in emerging tech.
He was pretty much perfect—no wonder the Sterling family was holding on tight, and no wonder my dad had him on the shortlist.
So when my mom called and asked, "What do you think of Emmett?" I just said honestly, "He's alright."
I hadn't expected that those two words would be like flipping a switch.
The next day, Emmett sent over a bouquet of lilies of the valley, with a card that said, "Looking forward to our next meeting."
On the third day, he invited me to a private concert.
On the fourth day...
On the fourth day, Orion Sterling—the notorious true heir—showed up.
He was the one who'd been swapped as a baby, grown up outside the family, and only got brought back as a teenager. Ever since, he'd always been the misfit—the one who never quite fit in.
Word was, he was wild, always breaking the rules, and constantly giving the Sterling family a headache.
I bumped into him outside the company building.
I'd just finished up with an investor and was busy replying to emails on my phone when someone suddenly blocked my path.
I looked up and ran right into a pair of pitch-black eyes.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Heard you're doing matchmaking," Orion said, his tone as casual as if we were talking about the weather. "Your date's Lucas Sterling."
I didn't say anything.
"Stay away from him," Orion leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. "He doesn't deserve you."
That was pretty blunt—and rude.
I frowned. "Mr. Sterling, this is none of your business."
"I know," Orion replied.
He flashed a cocky, devil-may-care grin. "That's why I'm not here to negotiate—just giving you a heads-up."
"What?" I was stunned.
"I'm going after you," he said, like it's no big deal. "Starting today."
"What?" I felt confused.
He really was just like the rumors—never played by the book, always a pain to deal with.
Orion's POV
The engine roared, ripping through the night. I hit the gas, letting speed eat up everything.
The wind sliced across my face, but I needed that sting, that feeling of nearly spinning out—only then could I keep the mess in my chest from boiling over.
Of course, she didn't remember me.
Back then, I was just some scruffy kid squatting at the mouth of the alley, with a busted-up face.
She handled those punks without breaking a sweat, didn't even look my way, just grabbed her backpack and walked off.
Like a breeze—came and went without a trace.
Left me standing alone in that dark, damp alley, watching her figure fade around the corner, like staring at the moon hanging at the edge of the sky—so far away, completely out of reach.
That night, I spent ages just staring at myself in the cracked mirror.
Staring back at me in the mirror was a bruised and battered face, hair wild and tangled, clothes smeared with dirt and dried blood.
And her...
She was up in the stars, and I was stuck in the dirt.
Later, I found out she was the Vance family's heiress—the star student at Central High, the kind who had so many trophies her hands were probably tired from holding them all.
And me?
I never even finished high school. Just some street punk, willing to get into a bloody fight for a few dollars.
It wasn't just an alley between us—it was a whole world.
So I didn't do anything.
Sometimes, I'd go out of my way just to hang around the entrance of Central High, just to see her from a distance.
I'd watch her step out in that spotless school uniform, slide into that black sedan with her backpack, her posture always perfect, ponytail swinging behind her.
After that, the Sterling family found me and took me home.