Eight years after my family went bankrupt, the poorest, most invisible boy in my high school class suddenly became my VIP client. Later, when my career and life faced setback after setback, he was the one who stayed by my side, walking me through it step by step. At my most helpless moment, he finally confessed the deep, insecure love he had hidden for so long. Yet, in the very last second, just as my heart was truly moved, I overheard a conversation between him and the CEO of the company I was interviewing for. He sat on the sofa, dressed in a sharp custom suit, exuding a cold, careless aura. Beneath that immaculate exterior was the ruthless, sinister stranger he truly was. "Don't hire her, and this contract is still yours." 1 The first time we locked eyes after eight years, my VIP client smiled and called out my name. I didn't even recognize him at first. He didn't mind my poor memory. Instead, he patiently guided me through the past. It wasn't until he mentioned our high school and homeroom that it finally clicked. "I remember now! You're Rowan Sterling!" The corners of his lips curled up. His handsome, mature face, which normally carried an intimidating authority, was softened by that smile, giving off a deceptive illusion of approachability. I couldn't be blamed for not recognizing him. His transformation was staggering; he was a completely different person. "It's me." I truly never expected this. The most invisible, destitute boy in our class had become our firm’s most valued client. Rowan Sterling was my high school classmate back when my family was still ridiculously wealthy, before our bankruptcy and my sudden transfer. I still had some memories of him, though distant and blurry. I remembered he always wore a pair of sneakers that were peeling and coming apart at the soles, yet meticulously clean. His family had been struggling. His mother died when he was born, and by middle school, his father was bedridden with a severe illness. They survived on meager government welfare checks. When the delinquent boys in class bullied him, he never fought back, always trying to avoid causing any trouble. I witnessed it by chance once. Back then, I was young, arrogant, and spoiled rotten by my wealthy parents. Fearless and reckless, I walked right up and splashed scalding hot coffee directly onto the bully's face, burning him so badly he couldn't even scream. Rowan just stared at me. The malnourished teenager was incredibly frail, his oversized school uniform hanging off his bony frame like a ghost. Meeting his gaze, I grinned, patted his shoulder, and told him, "Next time they mess with you, just grab one of them and beat the hell out of him." My words were naive and irresponsible. I never stopped to think about how he would afford the medical bills if he actually hurt someone. Aside from that, we had zero interaction. That is, until my senior year, when my family's empire collapsed. To dodge the debt collectors, my parents pulled me out of school and we moved away in the dead of night, cutting ties with all my former friends and classmates, vanishing without a trace. 2 Life really is unpredictable. Who could have guessed that my family, once the wealthiest real estate tycoons in the state, would one day lose everything? And who could have imagined that the boy who was once as small and insignificant as an ant would become a billionaire tech mogul everyone tried to impress? I let out a sigh. Realizing he was just an old classmate slowly eased the nervous tension I had about meeting an important client. "After all these years, I never expected to see you again." Truth be told, Rowan was the only classmate I had seen in a decade. After the bankruptcy, I transferred to a rundown public high school in a bleak rust-belt town. Despite the terrible facilities and environment, I managed to claw my way into a top-tier university. At the very least, holding a Finance degree from an elite school got me through the doors of a Fortune 500 company. I worked myself to the bone every day to earn a decent salary, keeping my paralyzed parents afloat in their long-term care facility. "How have you been these past few years, Mr. Sterling?" The moment it left my mouth, I realized it was a stupid question. Building an empire from scratch is always agonizing. But wasn't this just the standard corporate small talk? Rowan took a sip of his water, his eyelids lowered, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. After a moment, he replied in a flat, emotionless tone, "Not very well." I froze for a second, then nodded in agreement. "True. It couldn't have been easy getting to where you are today. But the hard part is over, right? The future is bright." Even if we were classmates, he was still the client. My tone carried an involuntary hint of flattery, but he didn't seem to mind. "What about you? How have you been?" He looked at me, his gaze so intense and earnest that it gave me a strange feeling. Ignoring the anomaly, I shook my head and offered a bitter smile. "Barely surviving, honestly. You saw it yourself—my family went bankrupt, my parents are sick in a facility, and the former heiress is now just another corporate wage slave." The crushing monthly medical bills bled me dry, swallowing nearly my entire paycheck. Why else would I be working this desperately? I flashed him my most eager, people-pleasing smile. "Whether I eat steak or instant ramen this month all depends on Mr. Sterling signing this deal." My attempt at self-deprecating humor didn't make him laugh. He maintained the same faint, unreadable smile that seemed to carry a trace of bitterness. He glanced at me, then looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed softly. "Where's the contract? Let me see it." I quickly presented it with both hands, slyly uncapping my fancy pen and placing it right next to his hand. Perhaps my desperation was too obvious. Rowan's expression grew considerably colder, but he didn't stop me. He called me an old classmate; I politely called him Mr. Sterling. Times had changed. The dynamic between us was now like a lord and a peasant, tainted by the suffocating, vulgar respect of class difference. I wasn't afraid of him looking down on me. I was only afraid he wouldn't sign. Thankfully, he showed mercy and generously signed his name on the dotted line. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Sterling. Please rest assured, we will deliver the absolute best results for this project." Rowan showed no reaction. It was as if he didn't care how the project turned out; to him, this amount of money was just pocket change. "Valerie." "Yes, Mr. Sterling?" He looked at me seriously and said something I completely failed to understand. "I only signed this contract because of you." I was dumbfounded. Since when did my status as an "old classmate" carry that much weight? Meeting my blank stare, he added, "Back when I was at my absolute lowest, you were the only one willing to help me." That tiny, insignificant intervention I had nearly forgotten actually earned me a decade-long debt of gratitude? Honestly, I would have done the exact same thing for anyone else. But Rowan just happened to become an untouchable billionaire. See, it always pays to do good deeds, I thought. "You're giving me too much credit, Mr. Sterling. I was just young and impulsive. But even if I could do it all over again, I'd make the exact same choice." He nodded. "True. You have always been so good." Rowan pulled out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers. We should keep in touch." He pulled up his personal contact QR code. 3 "Keep in touch" usually just meant polite corporate lip service. Having navigated the business world for years, I knew the rules inside and out. When I returned to the office with the signed contract, my boss smiled so widely his wrinkles folded over each other, immediately feeding me corporate promises. "Valerie, I've always seen great potential in you. Keep up the good work." I nodded and smiled. "It's all thanks to your guidance, Mr. Davis." My boss handed me a luxury gift box, mentioning that Thanksgiving was coming up next week and told me to find a reason to deliver it to Rowan. We had just exchanged numbers, and I already had an excuse to use it. I called Rowan, trying to make my tone sound less like a corporate drone and more casual and friendly. Rowan was a busy man. The phone rang until the very last second before he picked up. "Hello?" "Hey, Rowan! It's Valerie Vance. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and I wanted to know when you might be free? I have a little holiday gift I'd love to drop off for you." Rowan gave me his home address, saying he was free tomorrow. He mentioned a partner had gifted him fresh Alaskan King Crab legs and invited me over to share a meal. I never expected Rowan to be so sentimental. After ten years of silence, he casually invited a former acquaintance into his home for lunch. I guess that's the kind of grace you have when you're at the top. I sighed in admiration. 4 I arrived at the address Rowan gave me right at 10:00 AM. It was a sprawling, ultra-luxury modern estate. Behind towering wrought-iron gates lay a manicured courtyard. White fences framed exquisite, rare blooming flowers, and a wide stone pathway cut through a lush emerald lawn. The architecture was elegant and romantic, reeking of impossibly expensive taste. I rang the doorbell, and a housekeeper quickly let me in. Rowan hadn't gone into the office today. At home, his attire was much more relaxed and casual. He smiled at me. "Take a seat. I just finished my workout." I felt a bit stiff. "Please, don't mind me. Go ahead and do what you need to do." "Oh, I left the gift right here for you. You can open it whenever you have time." Rowan barely glanced at it before turning to me. "Stop calling me Mr. Sterling. It sounds too distant. Just call me Rowan." The guy holding the purse strings had spoken; who was I to disobey? I nodded eagerly. "Alright, Rowan it is." The housekeeper was an incredible cook. The King Crab legs were steamed to perfection, bright red and steaming. I was just reaching for a crab leg to crack it open and score some brownie points when Rowan placed a small plate of perfectly extracted crab meat right in front of me. His movements were fluid and natural, as if he had practiced doing this a thousand times. I was incredibly flattered but felt awkward, trying to ease the tension with a joke. "I don't know about this. If your girlfriend finds out, she's going to be furious." Rowan rolled up his sleeves and started cracking another shell. "There is no girlfriend." He looked up at me. "Valerie, I have never had anyone else." That sentence carried an oddly ambiguous weight. He didn't just say he wasn't dating anyone; he said he had never had anyone else. It sounded almost like he was trying to prove his innocence to me. My brain short-circuited, and my hand jerked. But then I reasoned he was probably just speaking casually. After a brief, loaded silence, I chuckled. "I get it, the empire comes first. You're young and successful. Your future partner is going to be incredibly amazing." Rowan slowly lowered his head. His interest seemed to fade, his tone flat. "Yes. She is incredibly amazing." I didn't quite catch that last part, and I deliberately didn't ask him to repeat it, terrified I might uncover something I shouldn't. After lunch and some casual chatting, Rowan mentioned that our old class president was hosting a high school reunion next weekend. He asked me to go with him. I couldn't really refuse. I had just eaten his food and secured a massive contract from his hands. I had to give the client face. I agreed immediately, though I went home dreading how I was going to interact with classmates I hadn't seen in ten years. 5 On Saturday, Rowan picked me up himself. I had the honor of sitting in the passenger seat of his ridiculously expensive sports car. I teased, "Thanks to you, I finally get to ride in a car that costs more than my life." Rowan's expression didn't change. "If you like it, I'll give it to you." "?" My eyes went wide, assuming he was joking. "I don't love this specific one. I'll let you know when I find one I like more." I burst out laughing. Rowan’s lips curled into a smile, carrying an inexplicable sense of indulgence. "Okay." When we arrived at the hotel banquet hall, everyone was already there. Now that Rowan was the most successful person to ever graduate from our class, everyone wanted to kiss his ring. Since I walked in with him, I ironically became the most invisible person in the room, quickly squeezed into a corner. Ten years had changed everyone drastically. Some were married, some divorced with kids, some ran small businesses, and some were corporate drones like me. The seat of honor was left empty for Rowan. Everyone here had stayed in touch to some degree over the years, clustering with their friend groups. I, the girl who vanished senior year, was left standing awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. Rowan patted the empty chair right next to his. "Valerie, sit here." The moment the words left his mouth, every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me. Someone gasped, "Wait, is that Valerie Vance?!" Once he said it, they finally remembered I existed. I flashed a wide, generous smile. "Wow, someone actually remembers me." The atmosphere livened up, and the topic of conversation suddenly shifted to me. I had no idea who told them about my family's bankruptcy. "I heard you transferred senior year because your family went under, Valerie. Is that true?" "So what are you doing for work now?" "Oh, I'm sure Valerie's parents bounced back years ago. A starving camel is still bigger than a horse! She’s probably doing way better than us working-class folks." They got more and more animated. No matter what they said, I kept my expression perfectly neutral. Everyone here was an adult. We weren't innocent kids anymore. Every word they spoke carried a thinly veiled layer of schadenfreude or hungry gossip. The class president interrupted the interrogation, standing up to raise his glass. "Let's make our first toast to our most successful classmate, Mr. Sterling!" There was no shortage of people desperate to latch onto Rowan. Terrified of falling behind, they all rushed forward with their glasses raised. Rowan was no longer the timid, shivering boy from high school. He handled this highly-orchestrated corporate pageantry flawlessly. Having sat at the top for so long, he had experienced this countless times. It didn't faze him at all. Normally, these people would never have the chance to breathe the same air as someone of Rowan's caliber. Now that they had the opportunity, they were going to squeeze it dry. In a society ruled by profit, the cheap pride of adults meant absolutely nothing. One man groveled with both hands on his glass, speaking with pathetic humility. "I was an idiot back in school. I hope Mr. Sterling can forgive the ignorance of a fool, and we can still be old buddies." I recognized him. It was the same punk who used to torment Rowan. We had bad blood. After all, getting a cup of scalding coffee thrown in your face hurts. If he hadn't been terrified of my father's money back then, he probably would have jumped me in an alley. Now that I had lost my status, he naturally couldn't resist kicking me while I was down. He furrowed his brow, glaring at me with arrogant hostility. "Valerie, what the hell is wrong with your manners? Mr. Sterling is sitting right next to you, and everyone is toasting him. Why aren't you raising your glass?" "Do you still think you're some untouchable heiress? If you piss Mr. Sterling off, he could crush you like a bug!" The table fell into a dead, awkward silence. No one spoke. If I were seventeen-year-old Valerie Vance, I would have smashed a dinner plate into his smug face. But I was twenty-five-year-old Valerie Vance. I needed to be mature and stable... Screw mature and stable! I gave a fake, plastic smile and asked, "So if you decided to drop dead, does that mean I have to drop dead too?" "I remember you used to love bullying Rowan. You looked down on him for being poor and made his life a living hell." I covered my mouth, chuckling lightly. "But I know you were just young and ignorant back then. I'm just joking around, don't take it to heart." His face turned a sickly shade of green. No one expected me to strip away his dignity so publicly. Just as the man was about to explode in anger, Rowan, who had been completely silent, picked up the glass pitcher and poured water into my cup. "Don't drink the wine. It's bad for your stomach." It wasn't just the others who were shocked. I was stunned too. The billionaire CEO was personally pouring my water. My aggressive fire was instantly extinguished. "Thank you, thank you, please don't trouble yourself, I can do it." Seeing Rowan's attitude, the man's fury instantly deflated like a popped balloon. By pouring my drink in front of everyone, Rowan was making a crystal-clear statement: She is under my protection. Watching that cowardly bully tuck his tail between his legs and scurry back to his seat, I almost burst out laughing. Rowan lowered his voice and asked, "Are you upset?" I kept my voice low too. "Not at all. Guys like him are just petty and jealous, which is why he holds a grudge. I'd never waste my time on trash like that." Rowan didn't say a word. For a fraction of a second, his body went entirely rigid—a tension I didn't notice—before he tipped his head back and downed his glass of liquor in one gulp.
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