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In Kensington, London early October, 5:15 pm, Drizzle falling gently from a gray sky, cold breeze brushing the streets.
✦ Steph pov " "
The wind carried the familiar scent of wet concrete and chestnuts from a nearby vendor as Stephanie Weston stepped out of the library. She pulled her brown wool coat tighter, books clutched against her chest. The soft drizzle soaked the ends of her long black braids, and her brown boots were already damp from the puddles she had stepped through.
At 23, Stephanie was in her final year at the Royal College of Biomedical Sciences, specializing in Genetics and Molecular Biology — a field she had pursued with quiet determination. Born and raised in Bristol, she came from a modest family background. Her father died when she was young, and her mother — a compassionate and brilliant lab assistant — passed away from cancer two years ago. Since then, Stephanie had supported herself through scholarships and part-time tutoring jobs.
She now lived in Notting Hill in a tiny flat she shared with her best friend, Katherine Dawson, a fashion design student with a passion for bold colors and brutal honesty.
Stephanie's appearance matched her personality — elegant, composed, and strong. She had a smooth, rich brown complexion, storm-gray eyes that rarely gave away emotion, and long, neatly kept black braids tied behind her in a ponytail. She walked with the quiet confidence of a woman who had weathered storms and learned to survive in silence.
As she waited on the sidewalk to cross the road, flipping her notebook to review an assignment, a sudden splash soaked her boots and lower dress.
A luxury car — a gleaming black Bentley Continental GT — had rolled through a wide puddle without slowing down.
Stephanie gasped and stepped back, staring at her drenched hem. Her eyes snapped to the car just as it came to a halt a few feet away.
The driver's door opened, and a man in a suit and cap — clearly a professional chauffeur — hurried out, eyes wide with concern.
> "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Miss!" the driver said, approaching quickly. "I didn't see the puddle in time — are you alright?"
Stephanie bit her lip, nodding with a forced smile, although her irritation was visible.
> "It's fine," she said calmly, even though it clearly wasn't.
Before the driver could offer anything else, the passenger door swung open sharply.
Out stepped Raymond Alexander Carter.
His presence was immediate — tall, commanding, and as sharply dressed as one would expect from the heir to one of the most powerful conglomerates in England. At 6'3", with raven-black hair combed back in a clean wave, and a jawline that looked like it had been carved by a sculptor, he was devastatingly handsome… and completely indifferent.
Wearing a deep navy three-piece suit with black leather gloves, Raymond glanced briefly at Stephanie — then at his watch.
> "What's going on?" he asked impatiently.
> "I accidentally splashed the lady, sir. I was going to—"
> "Then pay her off and let's go," Raymond cut in coldly. "We're already ten minutes late."
Stephanie blinked, stunned.
The driver hesitated, clearly embarrassed, but Raymond wasn't finished.
> "It's rain, not acid," Raymond said flatly, without even glancing at her again. "She'll survive."
> "Sir, maybe just—"
> "I said pay her," Raymond snapped, already stepping back into the car.
The driver turned awkwardly to Stephanie, pulling out his wallet. "Please, miss. He didn't mean—he's just under pressure."
Stephanie raised her hand gently.
> "Keep it," she said. "I don't want your money."
Her voice was soft, but her eyes were firm.
She looked once toward the Bentley's darkened windows, shaking her head. Another rich man who thinks he can throw money at people like they're problems.
As the car pulled away with a low growl, Stephanie turned and continued walking — her soaked boots squeaking against the pavement.
✦ That Night…
Back at Carter Manor, Raymond removed his coat and poured himself a glass of whisky.
His mother's voice echoed again in his memory.
> "You must marry someone of equal status. Someone who won't embarrass the Carter name."
He sipped the drink and let out a slow sigh.
But in the back of his mind, a pair of gray eyes haunted him — not with warmth, but defiance.
Stephanie didn't think she'd ever cross paths with that cold-hearted stranger again.
But fate was already working behind the scenes — and their story had only just begun.
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