CHAPTER 3

The spotlight was on Maeve Wells which stole her breath. For a second, she couldn’t move. Every eye in the room was staring at her, waiting to eat her alive. Her blouse, which was a cheap secondhand thrift store dress, she wore clung to her skin, sticky with her sweat.

Carter Langston’s words still echoed. Maeve Wells, step forward.

His words somehow were heard across all the noise in the room.

Maeve’s heart was beating rapidly not from fear. Nah, but from the heat what was rising beneath her.

Defiance. She wasn’t here to be paraded like some prize for Carter Langston and his empire. The Challenge was meant for girls with trust funds, for pretty influencers in gowns worth more than her car. Not for someone who’d spent the morning kneading masa with calloused hands, thinking about hospital bills and school fees.

Yet he had chosen her.

Carter stood by the stage, grey eyes steady, sharp as glass. At twenty-seven, he was the man magazines worshipped—rich, powerful, every angle of his face made for cameras. To Maeve, he wasn’t perfect. He was a storm in human form. A storm that had just dragged her into the center of his world.

She forced her chin higher. She stepped forward, curls bouncing, her name whispering through the crowd like a secret.

She doesn’t even fit this kind of world . Poor girl. Out of her depth.

“Miss Wells,” Carter said. His voice was calm, too calm but there was something hard underneath it. “Your dish was… unexpected.”

The room leaned into his pause.

“A street vendor’s idea of fine dining,” he went on. “Bold. Risky. But it worked.”

The judges murmured approval, some surprised, some almost grudging. Maeve’s tamales with truffle salsa had done what she’d prayed they would—proved she wasn’t a joke. But Carter’s tone made her skin prickle. Was it praise, or a warning?

She swallowed. “Thank you. I cook what I know. It’s honest.”

Something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Annoyance? She couldn’t tell. He stepped closer, too close, his presence dragging the air tight around her.

“Honesty,” he said softly. “That’s rare in my world. Let’s see if you can keep it.”

Then he turned, charm back in place as he faced the crowd. “Maeve Wells advances to the final round. Tomorrow, she faces the business aptitude test. Let’s see if she’s more than a one-trick pony.”

Polite claps. Cold stares. Knives in the eyes of the other contestants. Maeve’s legs trembled beneath her, but she walked back anyway. Finals. She had only wanted the money—fifty thousand, just enough to patch the holes in her family’s life. But now Carter Langston’s attention pressed down like a trap.

After everyone had already gone, Maeve stepped outside and saw Leo standing by the lamppost. His shoulders looked stiff, his expression stormy.”

 “Are you okay?” he said, hugging her worriedly.

“That guy’s playing you. Singling you out like that—it’s not a compliment.”

Maeve shook her head, curls falling forward. “I know. But I’m still in it. If I place, Mom gets her meds, Tommy stays in school, Rita keeps her diner. I can’t quit now.”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “And what if he wants more than that prize money? You saw how he looked at you. Like he already owned you.”

Her stomach turned. He wasn’t wrong. Carter hadn’t looked at her like competition. He had looked at her like property.

“He won’t,” she muttered, though the words didn’t sound steady. “He needs someone shiny. I’m not that.”

Before she could even take a breath, a black limo rolled to a stop in front of her beat-up sedan, cutting them off. The tinted window slid down, and there he was Carter Langston.”

His eyes caught hers, sharp and glinting.

“Miss Wells,” he called, voice cool and commanding. “A word.”

Leo straightened, stepping in front of her. “She’s done for tonight, Langston.”

Carter’s smile was thin. “This won’t take long. Maeve, please.”

Her chest tightened. Every instinct screamed to walk away. But her family’s faces rose in her mind, one by one. She touched Leo’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Wait here.”

The air inside the car was thick with a faint hum from the car AC. City lights moved over the glass, soft and broken. 

Carter kept his gaze on her, like he was trying to understand the kind of person she was and why she didn’t kind of fit in.

“You are different, you aren’t like others.” He said curiously.

“No pedigree. No polish. Yet you walked in here and stole the spotlight. Why?”

Maeve forced herself to hold his stare. “I didn’t come here to play games. I came for the money. My family needs it.”

His laugh was low, dark. “There it is again. Honesty. Dangerous habit."

 He adjusted a little bit to stay more comfortably.

“The finals aren’t just about skill, Maeve. They’re a contract. If you win, you belong to me. Two years. Marriage. Stability for my merger. No love. No freedom. Just business.”

Her blood ran cold. She almost laughed, the sound sharp and furious. “You think I’d marry you? For money? I am not for sale.”

Carter’s gaze hardened , but his tone didn’t change at all. “Everything is for sale. Your mother’s bills. Your brother’s education. Your aunt’s failing diner. I’ve done my homework. I can fix all of it.”

The words hit her deeply. “You’re vile,” she snapped, going for the door when he held her wrist not enough to make her hurt but to keep her still.

“Think about it.”

“Think about it. One signature, and they’re safe. Walk away, and you go back to scraps.”

She ripped off her arm free and reeled out of the limo and into the night air.

Leo was there instantly, steadying her. “What did he say?”

Maeve shook her head, her voice small. “It’s nothing new.”

But the truth burned inside her. She hadn’t expected this. Not so soon.

The next morning, the finals loomed in a sleek Langston boardroom. Maeve’s thrifted blazer looked out of place against rows of designer suits. The task: fix a flaw in Langston’s smart fridge line.

She’d stayed up all night reading specs until her eyes blurred. When her turn came, instinct guided her. She spotted the faulty sensor, laid out a fix that was cheap and practical. The executives nodded, surprised. Impressed.

Carter said nothing. He only watched, unreadable.

When she finished, he finally stood. “Impressive, Miss Wells. You’ve got a mind for this.” His smile thinned. “But let’s raise the stakes. Tonight, you’ll pitch directly to the Takahashi Group. One mistake—and you’re done.”

The room buzzed. Maeve’s stomach twisted. A gala. High society. She had nothing to wear, nothing to protect her.

As the others left, someone stopped her. A man, younger than Carter. Warm brown eyes, a smile that reached them.

“Maeve, right? I’m Cameron. Carter’s cousin.” He extended his hand. “You did great in there. Really great.”

Maeve froze. His eyes were kind, but not only kind.

And then it struck

her—

If Carter was the storm… then what, exactly, was Cameron?