LEWIS

As I felt the vibration of my phone in my pocket, I glanced at the notification from my best friend, Derick. Curiosity piqued, I opened the message.

**Derick:** Hey man, could you grab something nice for one of my dates? She wants proof of my love that isn't purely physical.

**Me:** Excuse me? I'm not her boyfriend. Why don't you handle it yourself and, for once, use a condom?

I hit send and received a swift reply.

**Derick:** I'm already at school. You’re on your way, right? Just pick something up. It shouldn’t exceed twenty grand, and hurry; she’s getting shy.

**Me:** I’m not shelling out that much for a girl you’re just having a fling with.

**Derick:** Come on, you’re a billionaire. A small amount gone won’t raise any eyebrows. And hurry, she’s feeling awkward.

**Me:** Is she a virgin?

**Derick:** Possibly. I’ve never been with one, so this should be interesting. Can’t wait.

I shook my head in disappointment. Derrick’s reckless behaviour was bound to get him an STD if he didn’t practice safe sex.

My driver pulled over at a local market, and I exited my limousine. I was supposed to drive my Tesla, but Derrick had commandeered it during his visit last night.

Despite not being blood relatives, Derrick and I have had a brotherly bond since our fathers were business partners. I first encountered Derrick at one of my father's corporate functions; he tagged me as the bored loner and wouldn’t let up. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

I dislike using my limo, having repeatedly requested Derrick to stick with his Audi R8 and let me have my Ferrari in Peace. However, he insists on sharing, claiming it “strengthens our bond." The only thing it strengthens for me is my impulse to dump him in a dumpster.

I surveyed the market. There’s no way I’m spending that much on a mere one-night stand. Maybe two thousand grand might suffice. I headed straight toward a jewellery store. As I approached, I felt something tugging at my back pocket; someone was trying to take my wallet. I spun around just in time to see my security team detaining the perpetrator.

Lucas, my head of security, gave me a curt nod, which I returned. My father had always ensured I was closely guarded due to potential threats from his business rivals. I often attempted to evade the guards, but Lucas had an uncanny ability to track me down, presumably because I let him.

The thief was a short, lean man, likely suffering from malnutrition, with graying hair and a disheveled appearance that exuded a strong odor. Despite my disdain, the situation intrigued me.

"I’ll count to three, old man. Return what you stole," I declared, stepping back to minimize the stench.

He dropped to his knees, raising his arms dramatically as if I were the one in the wrong. A smirk crept onto my face; he was attempting to play the victim and sway the onlookers.

"Sir, I’m innocent! I’m just an old beggar. Please spare me," he pleaded, scanning the crowd for sympathy.

I had no inclination to indulge his theatrics. "Spare your pleas for someone who cares," I replied, eager to end the encounter and move on.

"Please, I didn’t steal it. I’m innocent!" The old man clasped his hands in front of him, tears welling up in his eyes. I chuckled at his performance—he certainly had talent. I gave Lucas a go-ahead glance when suddenly,

Suddenly, a sharp slap across my face caught me off guard.

One of my guards lunged forward instinctively, but I halted him with a curt gesture. Escalating this chaos would only attract more attention.

"What the hell?!" I barked, spinning to face my attacker.

And there she stood.

A petite girl, barely reaching my shoulder, glared at me with a defiance that could probably set paper on fire. Her hair, black as a raven’s wing with bold streaks of snow-white, was pulled into a sleek, high ponytail that swayed with every furious breath she took. Sharp, almost feline eyes framed by thick lashes stared me down — a molten blend of silver and stormy gray that shimmered even under the dingy market lighting. Her nose was small and stubborn, as if carved specifically for rebellion, and her lips — full and glossed with a hint of pink — pressed into a tight, disapproving line.

She wore socks with heels, which, frankly, looked like a war crime against fashion, but somehow, on her, it just...worked. It gave her the air of someone who didn’t give a damn what anyone thought — someone who could walk into a palace wearing a potato sack and still make the princes nervous.

Despite her tiny frame and questionable footwear choices, she radiated a sort of feral elegance — like a wildcat that didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be terrifying. She wasn’t beautiful in the delicate, safe way most girls tried to be. She was chaotic, bold, and alive.

A troublemaker. The kind that didn’t just stir the pot — she threw the whole damn kitchen at you.

I straightened, ignoring the sting on my cheek, and feigned nonchalance. "Who are you?" I asked smoothly, like this wasn’t the first time I’d been slapped by a girl who looked like she escaped an anime.

"Can’t you see this man is old enough to be your father?" she shouted, pointing at the thief, who seemed to be relishing the drama unfolding.

"And?" My eyebrow arched skeptically. What was she on about? The man had attempted theft, and she appeared to be his accomplice using this line for manipulation. No way was I letting them get off the hook that easily.

"You shouldn’t disrespect your elders," she retorted through gritted teeth, fists clenched at her sides. I could either indulge her self-righteous role or swiftly remove myself from this bizarre performance. I opted for direct engagement. She gestured towards the wallet thief, who seemed to be somewhat amused by the unfolding scene. I observed the interaction between them; perhaps they were connected in some way since she was defending him so vehemently. It’s rare for someone to come to the aid of a stranger in a situation like this.

“So?” I raised an eyebrow, confused by her insistence. The man had just committed theft, and here she was acting as his accomplice, likely attempting to manipulate me into letting them both go. Not a chance.

"So!, You should show respect to your elders," she retorted, her teeth clenched and fists at her sides. While I could find amusement in her theatrics, my patience was wearing thin, and my feet were sore. I approached her directly and, without hesitation, pushed her aside, which she did willingly.

“Search him,” I instructed Lucas, irritation evident in my tone at how much time this was consuming.

"You can't do that," she exclaimed, her expression betraying her confusion as my actions veered off her anticipated path. I had reached my limit. "Who died and made you dictator of the sidewalk?" I replied, barely disguising my boredom as I motioned for Lucas to proceed.

“Humanity, obviously,” she raised her voice slightly, drawing attention from bystanders. Ah, right—onlookers with nothing better to do than observe instead of attending to their responsibilities. She dashed towards Lucas, attempting to feign concern for the beggar.

What a spectacle. Lucas seized the opportunity to retrieve the wallet from the elderly man, returning it to me as the two exchanged glances, both undoubtedly realizing they had been caught.

Attempting to defuse the tension, she gave an awkward laugh and tried to walk away, but I swiftly grabbed her wrist. “Going somewhere, humanitarian?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow and employing the nickname I had just coined for her. She seemed to zone out momentarily, lost in thought. "Humanitarian are you lost ?" I asked with my eye brow raised . She shivered turning back to me, she wore a pleading smile. “Well, the drama is over; can I leave now?” I stifled the urge to scoff at her tone.

Meanwhile, the man attempted to make a break for it, and she used that distraction as an opportunity to escape. I chuckled at her escape choice.

“Detain him; he’ll be working at the mansion for a few weeks, and ensure he receives proper compensation,” I instructed the nearby associate who had approached me. He took custody of the beggar from Lucas's grasp.

“Determine what information you can gather on that girl,” I ordered through clenched teeth, resolute that she would be held accountable for her interference. There was no way I would let that slap go unaddressed. Lucas nodded before heading off, presumably to execute my request.