Her Ruthless Billionaire Savior

Chapter Three: Derrick

This man drones on endlessly about the supposed profits we’d make if I chose to do business with him. What he doesn’t realize is that I’ve already done my homework. I’ve weighed the pros and cons, run the numbers, and while the risks are minor, I still can’t afford to associate with someone as shady as him. I let him ramble, nodding occasionally like I care, until my patience snaps.

Slamming my fist on the table, I interrupt him mid-sentence. His words die in his throat, and I catch a flicker of fear in his eyes as he meets my cold, unyielding gaze.

“I won’t do business with you,” I say curtly.

“B-but the rates are good. We’ll split the profits, 60-40. It’s beneficial for both of us!” he stammers, desperation creeping into his tone.

I shake my head slowly. “I’ve done my research, Cole. Your company is nothing but smoke and mirrors. You make promises you can’t keep and sell lies wrapped in glitter. I’ve heard about your dealings.”

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to protest, but I raise a hand to silence him.

“I’ve heard enough,” I snap. “The only reason I entertained this meeting was to see if the rumors about you were true. Now I know. Leave my office.”

Cole scrambles to gather his files, his composure unraveling, and hastily exits. I let out a frustrated sigh, wondering how I let my uncle convince me to even entertain this nonsense. I didn’t build my empire by entertaining lowlifes like him.

Running a multibillion-dollar software company isn’t a small feat. While I’m grateful to my uncle for helping me at the start, I’ve far outgrown the need for his advice.

The second meeting of the day—a management briefing—is no better. Barely halfway through, my head is already pounding.

“I need results,” I cut off whoever’s speaking, my voice sharp.

“S-sir, we have the reports on—”

“That’s not what I mean,” I interject again, irritation seeping through my words. “The latest software update has been completed. What’s the hold-up with sales? Implementation should be done by now, so why are sales figures lagging?”

A man at the far end of the table adjusts his tie nervously. “Sir, there have been delays in integrating the software with the devices—”

“Are you telling me the software isn’t fully implemented yet?” I interrupt, my annoyance mounting.

“Sir…”

“I need that software live by the close of business today,” I say icily. “If not, the entire IT department will be looking for new jobs. Am I understood?”

There’s a collective nod around the table, and I walk out, fed up. I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Back in my office, I prepare for a virtual meeting with our Chinese investors. Somehow, that meeting goes smoothly, lifting my mood slightly. As I sift through some files, a knock on the door startles me.

“Come in,” I grunt.

My secretary enters, looking cautious. “Sir, your uncle is on the line.”

I wave her off and pick up the phone.

“If it isn’t my favorite nephew,” Uncle Carlos chirps.

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “We’re not related, but I’ll let you have that one. What do you want?”

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles. “How did the meeting with Cole go?”

“Bullshit,” I reply flatly. “I only listened to him because you insisted. Don’t do that again.”

“That bad? I thought he had potential…”

“Uncle, get to the point. I’m busy,” I say, my irritation bleeding into my tone.

“Alright, alright. I’m inviting you to dinner tonight. Come over.”

“Fine. I’ll be there,” I reply before hanging up, not allowing him to say more.

Carlos isn’t my real uncle. He was my father’s close friend who believed in my vision and invested in me when I started Olster Tech. Within a year of launching, I made a billion-dollar profit and repaid his investment with 50% interest. That was five years ago, and now I’m Forbes’ youngest billionaire under 30.

As the workday ends, I leave the office and button my suit jacket as I head to my Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

“Uncle Carlos’ residence,” I instruct my driver as I settle into the backseat. On the drive, I catch up on some emails I’d neglected earlier.

We arrive at Carlos’ sprawling mansion, and his maid greets me at the door.

“He’s in the dining room,” she informs me, and I head inside without further acknowledgment.

Carlos sits at the head of the table, with a pleased smile as I enter.

“Good evening,” I greet, taking the seat to his right.

“Ah, you actually came,” he remarks, sounding mildly surprised.

“You didn’t leave me much choice,” I mutter, reaching for the serving spoons.

“How’s work?” he asks, motioning for me to help myself.

“Work is fine,” I reply as I begin dishing food onto my plate.

“Any new developments?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I’m capable of managing my company,” I say, my tone firm.

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking to—”

Before he can finish, an unfamiliar face appears at the table, seating herself to his left, directly across from me.

“Good evening,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

She’s strikingly beautiful, but that’s not what catches my attention. I glance at Carlos, but he says nothing, offering no explanation for her presence. We eat in silence, but I find my eyes drifting to her occasionally as she quietly picks at her food. For reasons I can’t explain, I’m intrigued.