Vincent Sterling

Rain tapped a soft rhythm on the windows of the sleek black limo as it glided through the city streets. Inside, Vincent Sterling, CEO of Sterling International and the embodiment of cold, calculated power, sat in silence. His dark eyes were fixed on the glowing screen of his tablet, his mind buried in quarterly reports and boardroom negotiations. Emotions were distractions, and distractions had no place in his world. He was en route to another tedious meeting—this one about securing a merger that required more than numbers. It required appearances. Specifically, a wife. His advisors had stressed it: the conservative family-owned company he wanted to acquire valued tradition. A stable, family-oriented image would close the deal. Vincent didn’t flinch at the idea. A wife could be hired like any other asset. But as fate would have it, life had a different kind of negotiation in mind. The limo slowed abruptly, the driver cursing under his breath. Vincent looked up, annoyed, just in time to see the car ahead of them swerve. The passenger door flung open, and a woman—no, a girl, barely in her twenties—was shoved out onto the wet pavement like discarded luggage. The car sped away without hesitation. The driver began to pull forward. “Stop.” Vincent’s voice cut through the cabin like ice. The limo halted. Before his driver could question him, Vincent was already out in the rain, his polished shoes splashing in the growing puddles. The young woman was curled on the pavement, trembling, mascara streaking down her face. She looked up, panicked and drenched, her lips parted in disbelief as Vincent knelt beside her. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone clinical but quiet. She shook her head slowly, tears mixing with the rain. “No. I just moved here. My fiancé—” her voice cracked, “—he said he loved me. I gave up everything, and now he says he changed his mind.” Vincent stared at her for a long moment, reading her like he would a contract—carefully, strategically.