He swore he would marry the first woman who walked through the door, then a soaked delivery girl changed his entire empire

The boardroom of Sterling Holdings felt like an execution chamber.

Julian sat at the head of the massive glass table, his expression carved from stone. Across from him sat Marcus Sterling, his father’s younger brother. Marcus had always hated Arthur, and he hated Julian even more.

"The will is ironclad, Julian," Marcus said, steepling his fingers, a sickeningly smug smile on his face. "Arthur was a traditionalist. He didn't want a bachelor playboy running the empire. The stipulations clearly state that upon his death, if the heir apparent is not legally married, the CEO position defaults to the board's secondary choice. Which is me."

Margaret Sterling, sitting to Julian's right, looked as though she might be physically sick. "Marcus, Julian's engagement ended just days before Arthur's passing. Surely the board can grant an extension."

"The board operates on legality, Margaret, not sympathy," Marcus sneered. "Julian has forty-eight hours before the probate court seals the estate and the emergency board vote is triggered. Unless he can produce a wife by Friday morning, I am taking this company."

Julian didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. "You couldn't run a lemonade stand, Marcus. If you take the helm, Sterling Holdings will file for bankruptcy in two years."

"Then you better find a bride, nephew," Marcus chuckled, standing up and buttoning his custom suit. "Though I doubt even you can find someone willing to put up with your cold-blooded arrogance on two days' notice."

When the room emptied, Julian pulled out his phone and dialed his head of security, Vance.

"Vance," Julian commanded, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Manhattan skyline. "The courier from last night. Harper Evans. Find her. I want to know where she lives, where she works, who her family is, and what kind of debt she’s drowning in. I need leverage."

"Already done, sir," Vance's voice crackled over the line. "I ran her the moment she left the club. She works three jobs. Courier by day, diner waitress by night. Her mother passed away five years ago. She’s the sole legal guardian of her seven-year-old sister, Lily."

Julian’s eyes narrowed. "And the debt?"

"Medical," Vance replied grimly. "Lily has a congenital heart defect. She needs a specialized valve replacement surgery at Mount Sinai within the next six months. Insurance denied the claim. Harper Evans is three hundred thousand dollars short, and the hospital is threatening to discharge the kid."

Julian closed his eyes. The guilt of exploiting a child’s illness gnawed at him for a fraction of a second before the ruthless CEO took over. It wasn't exploitation; it was a mutually beneficial transaction. He would save her sister. She would save his empire.

"Where is she right now?" Julian asked.