Wilson's POV
"Shut up," Sloane snapped. "Irina rescued me because she has a good heart. If you morons hadn't lost track of me, I never would've collapsed on that street.
Without her help, that incompetent doctor would've killed me.
Just wait—"
"Sloane." My voice sliced through her rant, cold as steel. "Collin's doing what I asked. Cut the dramatics."
Sloane recognized that tone. I only used it when my patience had run out completely.
"But Wilson," she whined, throwing herself against me, "I worked so hard to find the perfect woman for you, and he destroyed everything. Now Irina's going to despise me." Her crocodile tears became genuine as she pressed her face into my shoulder.
Collin stared at the ground, paralyzed with terror. I made Ms. Shaw cry. I'm finished. Completely finished.
I exhaled slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'm not getting married. Stop playing matchmaker, understood?"
With a slight nod, I signaled Collin to relax. The man nearly collapsed with relief, his shirt soaked through with sweat.
"Let's move," I said. "The meeting starts now."
As we headed toward the building, the glass doors caught my reflection—sharp, almost predatory features, steel-gray eyes, bloodless lips, and an expression cold enough to kill.
I was Wilson Shaw, untouchable CEO of the Shaw empire. I was also a dying man, my condition beyond any cure.
"Since she saved Sloane," I said, my tone deliberate, "we owe her proper thanks.
Get some gifts ready. We'll visit her personally soon." My gaze locked onto Collin.
"And Collin—stay in your lane."
Fresh sweat beaded on Collin's forehead despite his earlier relief. "Yes, sir," he replied instantly.
But there's a complication, he thought. She's been cut off by the Bernard family. How do I even locate her now? Right, the Bernard family.
Maybe if they got involved, Irina might be more willing to meet.
He couldn't have been more wrong. The Bernard family was the last group Irina wanted anything to do with.
——
Irina's POV
I'd barely escaped the Bernard drama when my phone rang.
"Boss, we tracked down your target. The intel's been sent," the voice reported.
"Excellent. Your payment just increased five percent," I said, pulling over and checking my phone.
"Hell yes. Thanks, Boss."
My screen blazed with a holographic interface—rows of microchips, each stamped SOLD in crimson letters.
The dark web portal flickered, then split into multiple encrypted channels.
A photo materialized: a man sliding a batch of prototype chips into his jacket, surrounded by armed security as he entered an upscale hotel notorious for illegal tech trades.
"The Bernard family has zero shame," I muttered, my fingers tightening around the phone. I knew exactly where those chips originated.
But this scheme was too sophisticated for the Bernard family alone. Sharp, agonizing memories surfaced, making my chest tighten. Who's really orchestrating this? I wondered.
Suddenly, a harsh, cutting voice pierced the air behind me. I knew it immediately. Linda, my former adoptive mother, speaking with the same contempt she'd use for garbage.
"Irina? What are you doing here?"
I turned to find a small gathering nearby.
Beside my adoptive father Buck stood several Bernard relatives, plus Annie, the newly returned golden daughter.
Draped in expensive clothes, Annie clung to an elderly man's arm, displaying a rehearsed smile. The old man squeezed her hand, his face glowing with approval. Erik Cross, the renowned local physician.
Linda's mouth curved into a sneer. She obviously thought I'd followed them here, lurking outside like some desperate stray. She scoffed, "You rejected our money yesterday, and now you're stalking us?
"We already told you—your birth parents are back in that hick town. Why do you loiter where you're not wanted? Show some self-respect. Even if you grovel, we won't take you back.
"If this is about cash, fine. I'll throw you a bit more.
Just state your price and disappear."
She clenched her jaw, her critical stare raking over my simple clothes: the plain black jacket, the worn jeans that somehow still hugged my legs perfectly, the complete absence of makeup, that battered white bag hanging from my shoulder.
Linda smirked. Pitiful. Obviously, life without us has left her broke. Fine, I'll offer more. She's filled the Bernard bank accounts enough to justify a little extra. Without her, we would've been bankrupt years ago.
"Fine. I know you're bitter about being some rural nobody," Linda sneered. "For old time's sake, I'll give you thirty grand. Now get lost."
I raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in my eyes. I opened my mouth to reply.
But Erik interrupted, his voice thick with disgust. "Linda, who is this?" He examined my outfit with obvious revulsion. "You brought this to a Shaw family gathering?"
Linda caught the threat in his voice and quickly intervened. "Oh, just a student I used to help financially.
What a coincidence running into her here." She released a pitying sigh. "She's hit rock bottom, so I thought I'd offer assistance."
"Hmm." Erik nodded with approval, patting Annie's hand. "Annie, you have the same compassionate spirit as your mother." Then his voice turned icy. "But you can't let just anyone wander in. There's an appropriate time and place for charity."
Annie dropped her gaze, the image of wounded compassion. "You're absolutely right. But poor Irina really does appear to be suffering."
"Now that's the kind of elegance I expect from a Bernard," Erik said, clearly pleased. He gave Buck an approving look. "Your daughter is remarkable."
Buck, who had always loathed me, puffed up with pride at the compliment. Of course, he thought. A real daughter brings respect, not like that ungrateful fake, always sulking as if the world owed her something.
Out loud, he said, "Annie's always been kindhearted.
Even as a little girl, she couldn't stand watching others in pain."
Turning to Linda, he muttered, "Take everyone inside. I'll deal with this."
Linda gave me one final theatrical look of pity. "Do speak with her, darling. She's obviously going through difficult times."
The group murmured approvingly, eating up her performance of kindness.
I watched the entire charade and almost choked.
God, what a bunch of pretentious parasites.
"You want cash, right?" Buck sneered, shoving a credit card at me. "Here, thirty thousand. Take it and vanish. Don't embarrass us here." Today was Annie's big introduction, her chance to dazzle high society. The last thing they needed was this reject destroying everything.
I kept my face neutral, but inside, I was cackling. Thirty thousand? That's all? Do they actually think I'm some broke charity case begging for handouts?
The crowd watched, expecting me to grab the money with tearful gratitude. Instead, I took the card from his fingers—and snapped it cleanly in two before flinging the pieces away like garbage.
Everyone froze in stunned silence.
Linda's face contorted with rage. "Irina, don't push your luck."
"Sorry, I don't speak trash," I said, flashing a mocking smile. "Mrs. Bernard, your acting could use some work. One second you're playing saint, the next you're practically rabid?"