His money,my rule

Episode1: Sparks and Spats Thelma adjusted the strap of her worn backpack as she hustled down the busy streets of the city. Her sneakers squeaked against the pavement, echoing her frustration. Another late delivery. Another angry client. Another reminder that life had a funny way of testing her patience. And then… she ran straight into him. “Watch where you’re going!” Thelma barked, glaring up. He didn’t even flinch. Hands tucked casually into the pockets of a perfectly tailored suit, he smirked down at her with an air of entitled amusement. The kind of smirk that made her stomach twist in annoyance—and, she had to admit, a tiny spark of curiosity. “And you might want to watch your attitude,” he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with charm and condescension all at once. Thelma’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? Do you even know how rude that sounded?” He raised an eyebrow. “Rude? Me? I think you’re exaggerating… as usual.” She huffed, stepping back. “You think? Seriously? You literally just bumped into me and—” “—And you nearly dropped your coffee. Yes, I noticed,” he interrupted with a grin that made Thelma want to roll her eyes so hard they might get stuck. She crossed her arms. “Well, thanks for noticing, Mr. Perfect. Do you always go around acting like the world owes you an apology?” He laughed, a rich, warm sound that grated on her nerves. “Only when it’s worth my time. And I must admit…” He leaned in slightly, his golden-brown eyes glinting with mischief, “…this encounter is quite entertaining.” Thelma felt her cheeks heat up—not from embarrassment, but from pure irritation. “Entertaining? Seriously? You’re ridiculous.” “Ridiculous, yes. Charming? Definitely,” he said, straightening his jacket. “By the way, I’m Sebastian Vale.” Thelma blinked. “Sebastian… Vale?” “Billionaire. CEO. Fashion icon,” he added casually, like it was nothing. “And apparently, your new nemesis.” Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Nemesis?” He smirked, giving her a slow, teasing bow. “You heard me. This… feud of ours? It’s just beginning.” Thelma clenched her fists. “Feud? I don’t even know you!” “And yet, you already hate me. Perfect.” He tipped his head, that infuriating smirk still in place, and walked away as if he owned the sidewalk… which, in a way, he probably did. Thelma stared after him, muttering under her breath, “I will survive this billionaire nonsense. Just wait, Sebastian Vale…” And little did she know, fate had a very twisted sense of humor. This wasn’t just a chance encounter. This was the start of a war—and maybe, just maybe, the start of something else entirely.