Chapter 1 The Nelson Family Legacy
My family was a simple family of three, my father, my mother, and me.
The three of us, properly aligned, seemingly warm, almost picture-perfect.
But underneath, things were anything but simple.
My father started out young with a security firm. From there, he branched into logistics, mining, and real estate, steadily dragging the Nelson family out of the shadows and turning it into one of Eastlyn City's most dominant capital powerhouses.
To the public, he was the chairperson. In private whispers, he was the King of Eastlyn City.
My mother was even more intimidating. She wasn't a business mogul, yet somehow far more dangerous than one.
She had worked in crisis PR in her early years. At three, she could win arguments. At five, she could expose flaws no one else saw. By 20, she had torn an entire board apart with her words alone, so thoroughly they all walked out on the spot.
After she married my father, the circle all agreed on one thing. The Nelson family went legit half because my father fought his way up without hesitation, and half because my mother's tongue could cut glass.
As for me, I was what you got when you mixed the two of them together.
I grew up doing self-defense drills with my father and learning negotiation tactics from my mother.
While other girls practiced piano, I learned to spot contractual traps.
While other girls trained in ballet, I learned how to break a business rival's composure in under three minutes.
My parents were more than satisfied.
They once said, "Sarah, with you around, the Nelson family can stay on top for another 30 years at least."
The year I graduated from college, I traveled with friends.
Halfway through the bus ride, though, the tour guide and a group of broad-shouldered men showed their true faces.
Knives came out. Doors were locked. The bus exploded into panic.
The guy beside me was the worst of all.
While everyone else was sobbing and dialing the police, he was crying and drafting a last will and testament.
He sniffled as he wrote, "I've never been in love. I'm only 22. I can't just die like this. This is so unfair, so pointless."
His sobbing woke me up. I pulled off my eye mask and glanced over.
He was striking, clean-cut, soft-featured, like a drenched puppy left out in the rain.
"What are you regretting?" I asked.
Red-eyed, he choked out, "That I've never been in love."
"Do you want to live?" I said.
He nodded with frantic urgency.
So I stood up, kicked the tour guide across the aisle, and took down the others who rushed me without breaking a sweat.
Three minutes later, the bus fell silent except for the air conditioner humming.
I walked back and asked him, "Can you drive?"
He stared at me, stunned, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then drive."
I paused, studying his obedient, almost pretty face.
"Back to the city. Find the nearest hotel."
He froze. "Huh?"
I said, "Didn't you say you regretted never being in love? I just saved your life. I might as well fix that too."
