The Runaway Heiress’s High Stakes

The moment Sally Miles learned her family wanted to arrange her marriage, she bolted. It was New Year's Eve. Christmas decorations were still up, and here she was—ringing in the new year by going on the run. Sally felt incredibly relieved. Of all the eligible bachelors they could have picked, her family had to choose Ken Larson—her childhood friend she'd grown up with since birth. Ken Larson's strengths and weaknesses were equally clear-cut. Strength: a screw loose in his head. Weakness: a screw loose in his head. Unfortunately, in the adults' eyes, they were a perfect match—childhood sweethearts destined to be together. They just had to play matchmaker. When her plane landed in Las Vegas, the terminal was still hung with silver garlands and twinkling lights. Sally pushed up her sunglasses and checked her phone—a string of missed calls. As expected, it had been blown up. Sally Miles had always been smooth and adaptable, knowing when to bend. She called back and immediately dropped to her knees, metaphorically speaking: "Mom, I'm sorry!" The other end went silent, a whole speech dying on the tongue. After a long pause, Kathy Miles sighed in resignation: "If you're sorry, then come home." "If I come home, do I have to marry Ken Larson?" Sally whimpered. "I heard everything." Over the past two years, Grandpa's health had been declining, and the whole family of so-called filial children and grandchildren had been eyeing that massive inheritance. Sally had been passing through the living room when she overheard her perpetually busy father actually taking time to discuss her personal life. He said he'd already settled things with the Larson family and arranged for the two families' children to get together as soon as possible. The two families would unite through marriage, have children early, and when the old man died, one more person meant one more share of the inheritance. He also said she'd have to marry eventually, so she might as well marry strategically. As for the Larson family. The Larsons had two sons. The eldest, Mark Larson, was rarely in the country—so it definitely wasn't him they were talking about. The younger son, Ken Larson, was Sally's screw-loose childhood friend. The two of them had witnessed each other's most embarrassing moments growing up. For Sally, it was like her longtime girlfriend had suddenly sprouted male anatomy. Was that right? "Mom, I've told you—there's no spark between me and Ken Larson. I still remember what he looked like in diapers," Sally complained. "Feelings can be cultivated." "Mm-hmm, yes, exactly." Sally nodded. "That's why we thought we'd take a vacation together. We'll definitely work on cultivating those feelings~" "You're in Las Vegas," Kathy Miles said. "But I heard Ken Larson took a red-eye to Hawaii?" "..." That bastard. She knew he'd screw things up. Sally took a deep breath. "I'm just stopping in Vegas to buy a bag first, then I'll fly to Hawaii." "Is that so?" Kathy Miles didn't call her bluff, only saying, "I've contacted your Aunt Diana. She should be at the airport by now. Listen to your aunt while you're in Vegas, and don't run off." Her aunt was probably the family's spy in Las Vegas. But Sally knew when to quit while ahead. As long as they weren't making her turn around and fly back immediately, that was fine. She nodded obediently: "I definitely won't run off. I swear!" If swearing actually worked, the world would be full of cheating men struck dead by lightning. She raised three fingers to the sky. The sky was clear and bright, tinged with the gold of a winter sunset. The heavens showed no intention of thundering. As soon as she hung up, another call came in. Sally looked at the screen and pursed her lips. This time it was her father. No doubt she was about to get an earful. She couldn't pinpoint when exactly, but at some point, their father-daughter relationship had become like fire and water. Sally remembered when she was little, Samuel Miles would hold her and spin her around, lift her up to sit on his shoulders. She slumped against her suitcase and answered: "Dad." "Get back here this instant!" Samuel Miles barely contained his rage, his voice so loud it hurt her eardrums. She could still be diplomatic with Kathy Miles, but the moment she faced Samuel Miles, Sally suddenly went into full rebellion mode: "No. I won't marry him." "Nonsense! The Larson family is our best choice. We know each other inside and out, we're well-matched in status. What more do you want? I'm only going to say this once: if you still consider me your father, you'll be on tonight's flight. I'll have my secretary book your ticket!" Why was his go-to line always about whether she considered him her father? It wasn't like she got to choose whether he was her dad or not. "What if I do go back?" Sally said. "Ken Larson isn't even in Newton. If I'm the only one going back to wait around eagerly, won't people say you're desperate to marry off your daughter? Don't we care about face anymore?" Nothing mattered more than face. Having hit Samuel Miles's soft spot, his tone softened slightly: "That Larson kid is being ridiculous too." "How about this," Sally seized the opportunity. "The moment Ken Larson goes back, I'll go back too." After saying this, she immediately texted Ken: Handled things on my end. Hold the line. When you get back to Newton and get your ass beat, I'll definitely put in a good word for you. Ken was probably still on his plane and didn't reply. Samuel Miles likely had to go exchange pleasantries with the Larson family, so he hung up promptly. Sally took a deep breath and patted her face in front of a window display still decorated with frosted snowflakes. Her face combined the best features of her parents in their youth—a retired actress and a suave, successful businessman. What they gave her couldn't be too shabby. Yet this very face couldn't earn her an ounce of favor at home. After adjusting her emotions, Sally walked out of the airport. The airport was small; a few steps and she was outside. The evening air was cool and crisp, and she could already see early fireworks popping in the distance over the Strip. Sure enough, the aunt who'd said she was coming had already arrived. Sally heard her aunt calling from afar, the voice accompanied by clicking high heels drawing close. "I kept calling but couldn't get through. Good thing I have sharp eyes." Her aunt's well-maintained face loomed before her. Diana clicked her tongue, then pulled back to look her over. "How are your parents raising you? Every time I see you, you're even more gorgeous—it's blinding." Sally removed her sunglasses, revealing bright eyes and a dazzling smile. "No matter how gorgeous I am, I can't compare to you, Aunt Diana. Before you left Newton, which rich young man wasn't head over heels for you?" "Such nonsense." But even as she said it, Diana's eyebrows lifted with delight. "Come on, come on. Are you hungry? Let's go home and eat. We can watch the ball drop later—I've got champagne chilling." From the airport to home, it was only five minutes. Diana's place was perched on the hillside—an upscale residence commanding an enviable view, overlooking the city center below. The neon lights of the Strip were just flickering to life, and the distant thump of music drifted up from countless New Year's Eve parties. Diana had the housekeeper make coffee, and dinner was served on the terrace. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket nearby, waiting for midnight. The evening breeze was mild, carrying a hint of desert sage. The wind here was nothing like Newton's fierce winter gusts that could spin you around. Sally finally felt some of the relief of having escaped. "Your mom says you don't want to get married, so you ran here to hide?" Diana swirled her wine. "On New Year's Eve, no less. Dramatic." Sally wasn't sure whose side her aunt was on. She stuck to her story: "I'm just here to buy a bag, then I have to fly to Hawaii." "I think you should skip Hawaii," Diana said leisurely. "That won't do—Ken Larson's there." "Still putting on an act with your aunt?" Diana lowered her voice. "I won't be Newton's spy. But give me the truth—you and Ken Larson, is there really a spark?" Honestly, her aunt was pretty loyal. When Sally was little, inspired by a commercial about kids showing appreciation for their parents, she'd scooped water from the garden hose to wash her dear father's feet. In December. Ice cold. Diana had watched the whole thing and never ratted her out. This didn't sound like she was trying to trick her either. Sally opened up a crack: "There's definitely something missing." "I've heard about that Larson kid—kind of dopey. I figured he wasn't your type. But his older brother, on the other hand..." Diana paused, and sure enough, noticed Sally's eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. So she continued: "Mark Larson is decent enough." At the mention of Mark Larson, Sally suddenly couldn't sit still. Her eyelids dropped as she studied the dishes on the table. "No word from Mark Larson?" "No idea. He's rarely in Newton," Sally said. Diana followed the thread: "Maybe he found someone on his own out there, so the Larson family isn't in a hurry." Sally maintained her composure: "I wouldn't know." "What about you?" Diana suddenly circled back. "Why haven't you found someone yourself?" Thinking about those trust-fund playboys back in Newton gave Sally a headache. With all those men, the moment she listed out three basic requirements—doesn't smoke, doesn't drink excessively, keeps himself clean—only those two Larson boys remained. And mind you, these were just the bare minimum. There really was no room to be picky. As for the two Larson brothers, Ken Larson was a no-go. Mark Larson, though... He was indeed... Sally's face flushed slightly as she recalled accidentally barging into Mark Larson's bedroom that one time. The slightly wet footprints on the walnut floor, the hastily grabbed gray towel, and those fleeting, startled eyes. The man had stood there, reserved yet aloof, like a stalk of green bamboo emerging from a misty spring rain. Sally slapped her face. "Mosquito?" Diana raised an eyebrow. "Something like that." In the distance, the first big fireworks began to bloom over the Strip—golden chrysanthemums against the dark sky. Almost midnight. A new year. A year maybe her secret wish would come true.