Chapter 4

Richmond POV

"Who is that?"

The words left my mouth before I could stop them as I stepped out of my black Mercedes in front of Fernandez Real Estate, my company's flagship building. Every employee in the vicinity immediately straightened up and rushed toward me with respectful greetings.

"Good afternoon, President Fernandez!"

"Welcome back, sir!"

"How was your meeting in Los Angeles, President?"

I barely heard their voices because my entire attention was focused on the most stunning woman I had ever seen in my thirty-two years of life. She was walking out of my building with an elegance that made every other person on the busy Sacramento street look like they were moving in slow motion.

Everything about her was perfection. Her skin seemed to glow under the afternoon sun, smooth and radiant like polished porcelain. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the light and making her look like she had stepped out of a magazine cover. The emerald green dress she wore hugged her curves in all the right places, sophisticated and classy without being revealing. Her makeup was flawless, enhancing her natural beauty rather than hiding it.

But it wasn't just her physical appearance that captured my attention. It was the way she carried herself. Confident, poised, like she owned the entire world and was simply allowing the rest of us to exist in it. Her heels clicked against the pavement with purpose, each step deliberate and graceful. She held her head high, her shoulders back, radiating a kind of inner strength that was absolutely mesmerizing.

"Manager Peterson," I called to my building manager without taking my eyes off the mystery woman. "Who is that incredible woman who just left our office?"

Peterson hurried over, consulting his tablet quickly. "That's Vanya Fredrick, President. She just purchased one of the most expensive properties in Sacramento. Paid cash, sir. The entire transaction took less than thirty minutes."

"Vanya Fredrick?" I repeated the name slowly, rolling it around on my tongue. Something about it felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream that I couldn't quite grasp.

"Yes, sir. She bought the mansion on Maple Street for one point two million dollars. Didn't even blink when we mentioned the price. I've never seen anything like it."

I watched as she gracefully slid into a taxi, still trying to shake the feeling that I knew her from somewhere. There was something about her face, her profile, that tugged at memories buried deep in my mind.

Then it hit me like a lightning bolt.

Fifteen years ago. Lincoln High School in Los Angeles. I was seventeen years old and had just transferred from a private academy to a public school because my father wanted me to understand how "normal people" lived before I inherited his business empire.

I was a complete bookworm back then, more interested in reading and studying than sports or socializing. While other rich kids my age were showing off their expensive cars and designer clothes, I preferred to blend in, carrying my books everywhere and keeping to myself.

That's exactly what made me a target for the school bullies.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I was sitting under a tree in the courtyard reading a business strategy book when they found me. Jake Morrison and his crew of three other guys, all bigger and meaner than me, surrounded me like wolves closing in on prey.

"Look what we have here," Jake sneered, snatching the book from my hands. "Rich boy thinks he's better than us because he reads fancy books."

"I'm not trying to cause any trouble," I said quietly, reaching for my book. "I just want to read in peace."

"Peace?" one of his friends laughed. "You think you deserve peace? You show up here in your daddy's expensive car every morning, but you walk around acting like you're poor. What kind of game are you playing?"

"We think you're fake," Jake continued, shoving me hard against the tree. "We think you're pretending to be a man when you're really just a little girl hiding behind books. So we're going to check."

My blood ran cold when I understood what they meant. "Please don't do this. I haven't done anything to you."

"Strip," Jake commanded, his friends forming a tighter circle around me. "We want to see if you're really a man or if you're just some weird girl pretending."

"No," I said firmly, trying to stand up. "I won't do that."

That's when they got violent. Jake grabbed me by the shirt and slammed me back against the tree so hard that my head bounced off the bark. His friends started pulling at my clothes while I struggled to fight them off, but they were stronger and there were more of them.

"Help!" I shouted, but most students were in class or had already gone home. "Someone help me!"

"No one's coming to save you, book boy," Jake laughed as he tore my shirt. "We're going to strip you naked and leave you here for everyone to see what a pathetic loser you really are."

Just when I thought they were going to succeed, a clear, strong voice cut through their laughter like a sword.

"Get away from him right now."

All five of us turned to see a girl standing about ten feet away, her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. She wasn't particularly tall, but something about her presence made her seem larger than life. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a simple school uniform, but she looked absolutely fearless.

"Who the hell are you?" Jake demanded, not loosening his grip on my torn shirt.

"I'm someone who doesn't like bullies," she replied calmly. "And if you don't let him go in the next five seconds, you're going to regret it."

Jake's friends started laughing. "Oh, look! Book boy's girlfriend is here to save him! What are you going to do, little girl? Fight all four of us?"

She smiled then, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that promised trouble. "I don't need to fight you. My uncle is Dean Harrison, the head of this school. If you touch either of us, I'll have you expelled so fast your heads will spin."

The change in their expressions was immediate. Dean Harrison was known for having zero tolerance for bullying, and he had the power to destroy their futures with a single phone call.

"You're lying," Jake said, but his voice had lost its confidence.

"Try me," she challenged, pulling out her phone. "I can call him right now and have security here in two minutes. Or you can walk away and pretend this never happened."

The bullies looked at each other uncertainly, clearly weighing their options. Finally, Jake released my shirt and stepped back.

"This isn't over," he muttered as they walked away.

"Yes, it is," she called after them. "And if I see you bothering anyone else, Dean Harrison will hear about it."

After they were gone, she turned to me with a completely different expression. The fierce warrior was gone, replaced by a kind, concerned girl who looked genuinely worried about my welfare.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently. "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to straighten my torn shirt. "Thank you so much for helping me. Is Dean Harrison really your uncle?"

She grinned sheepishly. "No, but bullies are usually too scared to call that kind of bluff. The trick is to sound confident when you lie."

I stared at her in amazement. "You risked getting hurt just to help a stranger, and you don't even have any real protection?"

Her expression became serious then, and she looked me straight in the eyes. "Listen to me carefully. You're obviously smart and you seem like a good person, but you need to learn to stand up for yourself. I know you love books and studying, and there's nothing wrong with that, but you can't let people walk all over you just because you're different."

"I don't know how," I admitted quietly.

"Then learn," she said firmly. "You're a man, so act like one. Being intelligent doesn't make you weak, but letting bullies think they can control you does. Next time someone tries to hurt you, fight back. Even if you lose, they'll think twice before trying again."

I nodded, her words sinking deep into my soul. "What's your name? I want to thank you properly."

But when I looked up, she was already walking away, her ponytail swinging as she headed toward the parking lot. I called after her, but she either didn't hear me or chose not to respond.

I never saw her again after that day. A week later, I heard that she had transferred to a different school, and despite all my efforts to find her, she had simply vanished from my life as suddenly as she had appeared.

But I never forgot her face, her voice, or the way she had fearlessly stood up to four guys twice her size just to protect a stranger.

Now, standing outside my building fifteen years later, I finally understood why Vanya Fredrick had seemed so familiar.

"Peterson," I said, my voice urgent. "Where is Ms. Fredrick going now?"

"To enjoy her new home, I imagine, sir. The house she just purchased."

"Get my driver," I commanded, already heading toward my car. "I need to go to that address immediately."

Because after fifteen years of searching, I had finally found the brave girl who had saved my life, and I wasn't going to let her disappear again.