Chapter 6: The Architect of Her Fortun

From the moment Skylar Vance walked through his door, Alan Sterling had dismissed her as an unfortunate, unsophisticated child—a naive messenger for some desperate family. But the moment those final, chilling words left her lips, demanding a controlling stake in his legitimate business, his heart gave a violent, sickening lurch in his chest.

He couldn't help but re-examine the girl standing before him. She was still cloaked in the same wretched, threadbare cotton coat, her delicate features hidden behind a curtain of unkempt hair. Yet, the subtle curl of her mouth—a faint, almost imperceptible upturn—held a terrifying, glacial quality. It was a smile that promised ice and steel, instantly transforming the aura of the pathetic village girl into that of a dangerously self-possessed predator. Her very presence had shifted; the warmth of the room seemed to drain away, replaced by the profound, alien coldness of a killer’s detachment.

“What… what exactly do you want?” Alan Sterling asked, his brow deeply furrowed. His voice was laced with unconcealed suspicion. If a second ago, the glittering piece of Old Pit Jade in his hand had been a priceless, savory delicacy, it had instantly turned into a scorching hot potato. He had built his small, honest business on integrity, but he knew the cruel reality of the jade trade. It was a fiercely competitive world, and the cutthroat desperation of his rivals could lead to schemes far more elaborate than he could imagine. Was this girl a pawn? A meticulously placed trap designed to dismantle his life?

Skylar met his intense, searching gaze with utter composure. There was no fear, no childish panic—only a serene, unsettling self-assurance. Her arm lifted with a swift, fluid grace that belied her age and her exhaustion, and in a movement that made Alan’s eyes widen, she snatched the magnificent piece of jade back into her own small hand. The speed was that of a trained viper, too fast for the average eye to track.

“You know, Alan, that $300,000 USD is a pittance for this quality. We both understand the true, monumental value,” Skylar stated, her voice even and low, demanding attention without ever needing to shout. She tilted the jade, and the reflected light cast a razor-sharp shadow across her face, accentuating the brutal angles of her focus. “You desperately need a signature piece to anchor your reputation and save your struggling shop. I need a legitimate launchpad—a proper channel to convert my future acquisitions into liquid capital and influence. This transaction is mutually beneficial. It is the only sensible deal.”

From the moment she had stepped across the threshold, her killer’s eye—the trained ability to analyze weakness and exploit advantage—had noticed the shop’s meager inventory, the dated, lackluster display cases, and the nervous tension in the owner’s shoulders. Alan Sterling's frantic haste to acquire the jade had been the final confirmation of his financial distress.

In her ruthless logic, Skylar believed her proposal was nothing short of a generous lifeline. She was offering her incredible, impossible power in exchange for a foundation. There was nothing ‘out of line’ about it, only pragmatic business.

But hearing the word 'entrepreneurship' delivered with such cold authority from the mouth of a fifteen-year-old girl was a shattering cognitive dissonance. Alan Sterling felt his sanity slipping. “Entrepreneurship?” he echoed weakly, the very concept sounding like a child’s silly fantasy.

“Yes. I have a profound interest in stone gambling, and I wish to partner with you to develop this business,” Skylar confirmed, sinking back into her chair. She began to idly toss the priceless, polished jade into the air and catch it, completely oblivious—or perhaps intentionally dismissive—of the psychological shock she was inflicting. She genuinely did not comprehend the magnitude of the confidence she was displaying to a grown man.

Even the kindly, patient nature of Alan Sterling frayed under this baffling display of juvenile audacity. He managed to maintain a strained smile, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift. “My dear girl, if you’re looking to play house, I must respectfully decline. My shop is a modest business, not a playground. I’m afraid I can’t indulge your whim.”

He was, admittedly, in agonizing need of high-quality jade. His small jewelry store was hemorrhaging customers to larger, better-funded rivals. But no matter how desperate he became, he would not succumb to the madness of entering a partnership with a traumatized, half-starved child.

Met with a clear refusal, Skylar exhibited no trace of frustration or anger. She simply stood, continuing the casual, gravity-defying game with the jewel—the glass-like jade flashing under the shop lights as it danced perilously between her fingertips. The sight was agony to Alan Sterling, who watched, heart pounding, terrified the girl would accidentally shatter the magnificent piece. Does this terrifying little ancestor have no concept of money, or is she simply insane?

Seeing the agony etched on the man’s face, Skylar spoke again, her tone flat, as if discussing the weather. “Since you are unwilling to partner, we will conclude the sale at $300,000 USD.” The jewel flashed one last time, a streak of luminous green, before it landed with uncanny precision back in Alan Sterling’s hand.

The heavy, cold weight of the jade jolted Alan back to the present. He stared, wide-eyed, clutching the treasure. "$300,000 USD? You accept? You don't regret this price?”

“Yes. Cash payment, please. I don't have a bank card,” Skylar affirmed easily, casually dismissing the immense difference in value. She acted as if the thought of a major stake in his business had simply been a passing fancy, now discarded.

But her casual dismissal only deepened Alan Sterling’s internal turmoil. The missing hundreds of thousands of USD hung heavy in the air. If she knew she was being short-changed, why accept the deal so readily? Was she truly indifferent to the money, or was there something else at play? Something darker?

As if she could perfectly read the chaotic confusion in his mind, Skylar moved towards the glass display cases, her eyes running over the lackluster merchandise. “You needn't suspect me, Alan. The jade is yours. I will have other opportunities to find better stock. When I do, I’ll bring it to you.”

What? She had a network?

Alan Sterling felt utterly overwhelmed. Today had been a relentless series of emotional shocks: the discovery of a rare jade, and now the bewildering, strangely authoritative attitude of this enigmatic child. However, her easy manner and the undeniable quality of the jade in his hand convinced him that the roughstone was not an elaborate family heirloom scheme. He began to genuinely believe she possessed some secret, strange avenue for obtaining high-quality resources.

The thought sent a desperate heat rushing into his palms, where the flawless jade lay. If he refused this partnership, he might lose his only chance to revitalize his dying business. His mind raced, calculating the risks against the potential rewards. The girl was clearly brilliant, perhaps even gifted with a supernatural luck. His choice was made.

“I will give you an additional $400,000 USD in the form of a thirty percent equity stake in the shop,” Alan Sterling declared, his voice trembling slightly with the gravity of the commitment.

This was it. He had agreed to the partnership.

Skylar remained facing the glass cases, pretending to admire the mediocre jewelry. A faint, predatory glint sparked in her eyes—a glint Alan could not see. She knew. She knew she had no "network," no family heirloom, and no future supply chain. Her entire performance was a carefully constructed piece of psychological warfare designed to exploit the honest man's deepest fear: the fear of missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

For Skylar, the veteran of black-site interrogations and sophisticated corporate espionage, manipulating an earnest, small-time merchant like Alan Sterling was effortlessly simple. She had played the part of the naive, slightly unhinged child who possessed a fleeting, incredible resource.

Of course, she wasn't worried about him reneging on the deal. If he dared to cross her, she would ensure he experienced a tragedy far more profound than any financial loss.

The $300,000 USD was hers instantly. The contract for the equity would have to wait until tomorrow morning. Skylar gave a quick, dismissive wave and announced she would return then, walking straight out of the jewelry store and into the cool winter night.

Alan Sterling stood in the doorway, the precious jade stone clutched in his hand. He watched the teenager, carrying a fortune in cash, walk so nonchalantly down the busy main street. The electric streetlights cast long, strange shadows. He felt a profound sense of unreality—the sudden, bizarre feeling that he had either just secured his future or been thoroughly seduced by a ghost.

The sky was completely dark now, the northern winter night settling in with a sharp, biting chill.

Skylar reached a quiet intersection, and with a mere flicker of intent, the $300,000 USD cash instantly disappeared into her Supernatural Space. She ran a hand over her empty, aching abdomen. Her next priority was clear: a feast, a reward for the small, battered body that had endured the trauma of rebirth and the hours-long walk.

She vividly recalled her old life as an assassin, where a physical check-up had revealed she had missed her crucial growth period, leaving her permanently stunted at a modest five feet, five inches. Never again. Reborn, she would not compromise on her physical strength or her stature. Heaven had granted her a second chance at life; she would eat well, train well, and live better than anyone else.

The scent of garlic, chili, and fresh seafood finally lured her toward a sprawling, bustling riverside food stall. A recent ice-fishing tournament meant the stall was overflowing with fresh catches.

Skylar stood in the entryway, her worn, patched coat instantly drawing a scathing look from the owner. The place was packed, and the plump proprietress immediately waved her away, her face wrinkled with unconcealed disgust. “Go on, go on! You’re not paying! Don’t block my doorway and ruin my business! We don’t have any leftovers for charity!”

The insult was brutally loud and completely unapologetic. The nearby patrons, mostly rough men and their families, glanced over, their smiles smug and condescending.

Skylar merely glanced down at her own appearance. Yes, dreadful. But she was not begging. The proprietress was merely a shallow, judgmental profiteer.

“Spicy Stir-Fried Prawns, Teppanyaki Squid, Steamed Sea Bass, Crab Vermicelli…” Skylar began, her clear, crisp voice cutting through the market’s roar, announcing her order with unwavering confidence as she scanned the menu board.

Before she could finish, the proprietress’s face hardened into a scowl of pure impatience. “Hey! I’m talking to you! Stop causing trouble, and get—”

The word "out" died in her throat. A crisp, lightweight piece of paper, a hundred-dollar bill, was flicked into her hand. The high-denomination note—a 'Big Head' note in the local vernacular—successfully sealed her lips. The speed of the payment was so sudden, she didn't even realize she was holding it for a full second.

“And add a Clam and Sour Cabbage Soup. Payment upfront, then the food. Any other questions?” Skylar finished, her gaze holding the woman's for a beat, before she walked straight to an empty corner table and sat down.

A sudden, uncomfortable silence fell over the tables closest to the door. No one had expected the scruffy, seemingly destitute girl to pay with such a large bill.

The proprietress stood frozen, eventually swallowing hard as she stared at the money. She finally realized the girl’s cold, assessing gaze moments before had been strangely terrifying, like the look of a hawk studying a piece of meat.