The Inherited Stranger

Chapter Two - Welcome to Erténa

ELENA'S POV

I stepped out of the car, my eyes immediately drawn to the stranger waiting outside.

“Miss Hayes?” His voice was deep, clipped, his expression sharp and unchanging.

He was tall, easily over 6’3, with a face carved like it belonged on a statue. A strong jaw, a perfectly angled nose, long dark hair pulled neatly into a bun. A well-trimmed mustache and goatee framed his mouth, and his lips, pink, standing out against the severity of his features. The black suit he wore wasn’t fitted, yet it did nothing to hide the strength beneath it. Even his boots gleamed, catching the sunlight.

I was so lost in cataloging his perfection that I didn’t realize I’d been staring,almost drooling,until he spoke again.

“Miss Hayes?” he repeated, sharper this time.

“Mhm? Yeah…uh…it’s Elena. Just call me Elena.” I stammered, heat creeping up my neck.

“Sure.” The single word was delivered coldly, dismissively.

Well, that was rude, I thought, straightening my shoulders.

“And you must be Lucas Vance?” I asked, determined not to look rattled.

“The one and only.” His gaze never wavered from mine. Then, with a small nod, he gestured to the man beside him. “This is my assistant, John. He’ll take you to the mansion and give you a tour if you need one. I have a meeting. We’ll talk when I return.”

Without another glance at me, he strode to the waiting black Chevrolet Camaro. The engine roared to life, and just like that, he was gone.

John approached with a polite smile, his demeanor a sharp contrast to his employer’s. “Miss Hayes, if you’ll follow me,” he said, reaching for my travel case.

The wheels of my box rolled softly over the cobblestone path beneath us. The stones were smooth, worn down by years of footsteps, yet still strong and unbroken. On either side, wildflowers pushed through the grass, their colors bright against the deep green that stretched across the island. The air smelled of salt and something sweet,like the earth itself was alive and waiting.

There was a small town nestled along the coast, alive with quiet activity. Fishermen cast their nets into the glittering sea from their boats, while a modest farmers’ market bustled with chatter and the scent of fresh produce. I caught sight of women sitting beneath a canopy, their hands moving gracefully as they embroidered colorful patterns into fabric.

Tailors, I thought to myself.

“I actually thought there were no inhabitants here,” I said, breaking the silence that hung between John and me.

He gave a small, knowing smile. “Oh, nothing grand. These people have lived here long before Mr. Vance and I arrived. They worked hard to keep the island alive for your uncle, Mr. Alden.”

“Mr. Vance, huh?” I asked, curiosity slipping into my voice. “Is he always that… cold?”

John chuckled under his breath. “Mr. Vance is… complicated. But I promise you, beneath that deep voice and expressionless glare, there’s a softer heart than you’d expect.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

We continued walking in silence, the cobblestone path winding through the town before giving way to a long avenue lined with towering palm trees. After about seven minutes, the trees parted, and my breath caught.

A mansion stood before us, vast and imposing, its pale stone walls gleaming beneath the sun.

Damn, I thought. It’s even larger than ours back home.

John pushed open the tall mahogany doors, and they groaned softly on their hinges as though they carried the weight of years.

The first thing that struck me was the size. The foyer soared upward into a vaulted ceiling, where a crystal chandelier glimmered with fractured sunlight. The floor beneath my feet was a flawless stretch of polished marble, its veins twisting like frozen rivers.

Two sweeping staircases curved upward on either side, meeting at a balcony that overlooked the entrance hall. Dark oil paintings lined the walls, landscapes of Erténa’s coast, portraits of people I didn’t recognize. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me as I stepped inside.

Fresh flowers sat in a tall glass vase on a round table at the center of the room, their fragrance softening the otherwise intimidating grandeur.

“It’s… massive,” I whispered, half to myself.

John gave a faint smile. “Your uncle took great pride in this place. Every piece of it was built with care. And now,” he paused, glancing at me as though weighing his words, “it belongs to you.”

I let that sink in as my eyes drifted upward again, drawn to the chandelier’s glittering light. For a brief moment, I felt both overwhelmed and strangely… chosen.

“Let me show you to your room, Miss Ha…” John began, but I cut him off gently.

“Elena,” I corrected, offering him a small smile. “Just Elena.”

John gave a polite nod. “Of course, Elena.”

He led me up the wide staircase, my hand brushing against the polished mahogany rail. The hallways smelled faintly of cedarwood and something older, something… timeless.

We passed tall arched windows, the velvet drapes tied back neatly. Outside, the evening sun spilled orange light over the sea, the view stretching endlessly beyond the glass. My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, too loud in the heavy silence.

Finally, John stopped before a double oak door. He pushed it open gently, revealing a spacious room with soft cream walls, a canopy bed dressed in white sheets, and a carved wooden wardrobe that looked antique enough to be worth a fortune. On the far side, French doors opened to a private balcony overlooking the ocean.

“This will be your room for the time being,” John said, setting my traveling box at the foot of the bed. “If you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall.”

I stepped inside, my fingers grazing the carved bedpost. The room was beautiful, almost too beautiful, as if it held stories I wasn’t yet meant to know.

LUCAS'S POV

Inside the car, my mind replayed the moment we met. She was… beautiful. Skin smooth and sun-kissed, lips soft and pink against the gentle curve of her face. Tiny freckles dusted across her nose, drawing attention to that one-sided dimple that appeared when she smiled. Her hair, long and soil-brown, caught the light like threads of bronze. And that scent; fresh, sweet, intoxicating and lingered even after she stepped away.

For a fleeting second, she disarmed me. Something about her presence chipped at the armor I’d built around myself.

“What is it about this woman that calms my hard heart, even for a moment?” I muttered under my breath.

The car slowed, then came to a stop.

“We’re here, sir,” my driver announced, pulling me back to reality.

I stepped out briskly, the looming glass and steel of Vance Corporations towering above me. This empire, my empire, was the result of years of sacrifice, struggle, and ruthless decisions. It hadn’t been sunshine and roses, but I had clawed my way to the top and earned every luxury I possessed. Including Erténa.

And if sharing that island with Elena was the final test before claiming it fully, so be it. But I wasn’t about to make her stay sweet.

ELENA'S POV

A soft knock at the door pulled me out of sleep. My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked at the silver wristwatch on my arm. Quarter past eight.

When did I even drift off?

“Come in!” I called, pushing myself upright.

The door creaked open, and a woman,her hair streaked with gray, her posture elegant despite her years, peered inside. “Miss Elena, dinner is served in the dining hall.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll be right there,” I replied with a polite smile.

She nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

I turned to the travel box on my bed, rifling through clothes until my hand brushed against something familiar—the black gown Uncle Frederick had given me for my twenty-first birthday. It was still flawless, the fabric smooth under my fingers, the tiny buttons on the chest glinting faintly in the lamplight. Perfect.

Slipping it on, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror before making my way toward the east wing, just as John had instructed earlier.

The dining hall stole my breath. A long, polished table stretched across the room, covered with a feast fit for royalty. Roasted meats, vibrant vegetables, golden breads, and delicate pastries filled the air with a symphony of aromas. My stomach gave a quiet protest, and I couldn’t help but smile at how much I wanted to dive right in.

Then my gaze shifted.

At the far end of the table, seated like a king in his domain, was Lucas Vance. His piercing eyes locked onto me the moment I entered, unreadable but heavy, as though he were sizing me up, not just as a guest, but as an intruder in his world.

I walked to the chair directly opposite him and sat, the length of the dining table separating us like a line of battle. Reaching for a plate, I began serving myself some of the dishes that looked most enticing.

I mean, I’m going to live with him for a whole year,I might as well try to like him, I reasoned silently.

“So… Lucas,” I began casually, still busy with the serving spoons. “I didn’t get the opportunity to say it earlier, but it was nice meeting you.”

Silence.

I glanced up, but he kept eating as if I hadn’t spoken.

Determined not to be brushed aside, I set the spoon down and straightened. “Well, as you already know, I’m Elena. Late Mr. Alden’s niece. I think it would be nice if we both tried to cooperate… maybe even get to know each other, since we’re now cohabitants of this beautiful mansion.”

Lucas finally looked up, his eyes sharp. “Elena, is it? And tell me, why do we have to like each other?” His tone was flat, cold, yet carried an edge that pricked at my skin. He took a slow spoonful of the curry in front of him, deliberately unbothered.

I clenched my jaw, then shot back, “Because it’s better than you forcing your arrogance on me, don’t you think?”

That got his attention.

With a swift motion, Lucas pushed his chair back, the sound of wood scraping against marble echoing through the room. He stood, tall and unyielding, then began walking toward me. The air seemed to thicken with every step, the atmosphere charged with something unspoken.

His gaze pierced into me,unyielding, unreadable, almost dangerous as he closed the distance, and I suddenly realized my heartbeat had quickened.

Lucas stopped just short of me, his towering figure casting a shadow across the table. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but razor-sharp.

“You’ll soon learn, Elena,” he said, his breath warm against my ear, “liking me isn’t a requirement for surviving here.”

He pulled back, expression unreadable, before turning and walking away, leaving the faint echo of his words behind.

I sat frozen in my seat, spoon suspended in mid-air, my appetite gone.