CHAPTER ONE – THE UNEXPECTED INHERITANCE
1011 Words
Emily Hayes could hear the faint buzz of the ceiling fan fighting against the stifling July heat, its steady beat hardly able to cut through the bookshop's thick, still air.
Nestled in a secluded New York nook, the bookshop had been her haven and labor of love. Still, it seemed as though her relentless efforts might be on the verge of failure.
Emily Hayes never imagined that a single envelope could change her life.
Yet, there it was—perched at the edge of her cluttered desk like a bomb waiting to go off.
Thick, cream-colored, and embossed with the name Harris & Associates, the letter didn’t belong among the overdue invoices, dog-eared supplier contracts, and receipts of failed promotions drowning her bookstore in financial ruin.
She had been staring at it for twenty minutes. Maybe longer.
Her fingers grazed the sharp edge as she exhaled, debating whether to open it or throw it straight in the trash.
Nothing good ever came in envelopes that looked this important.
She had learned that lesson the hard way.
A sharp gust of July heat filtered through the partially opened window, rustling the paper, almost as if urging her to get it over with.
Emily shook her head. Not now.
Instead, she grabbed a red pen and began jotting figures into the margins of her inventory list, doing the mental math for the hundredth time. She knew what the numbers would say.
Too much debt. Too few customers. Too little time.
Her shop—her dream—was slipping through her fingers, and no amount of creative accounting would change that.
The little brass bell above the door jingled, breaking the suffocating silence.
Emily’s head jerked up, startled.
She hadn’t been expecting customers this late in the afternoon. Business had been painfully slow for months, and most of her regulars had vanished when the larger bookstore chain opened down the street.
"Be right with you," she called, grabbing her glasses and rubbing her tired eyes.
But when she looked up, she froze.
The man standing in her doorway didn’t belong here.
Everything about him screamed money.
Not the flashy, self-indulgent kind, but the kind that came with old power, the kind people carried with absolute confidence.
Tall. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that fit him like it had been custom-made. His shoes—Emily didn’t know much about designer brands, but she could tell they probably cost more than her entire month’s rent.
And his presence—commanding. Calculated. Like he had walked into her shop expecting everyone to take notice.
Emily’s stomach tightened.
Something about him put her on edge, though she couldn’t say why.
His gaze locked onto hers—sharp, piercing blue eyes that sent an unfamiliar shiver down her spine.
"Emily Hayes?" His voice was deep, smooth, and entirely too confident.
She straightened. Her instinct told her this man was trouble, the kind of trouble she didn’t need.
"Who's asking?" she countered, keeping her voice even.
His lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but something close. "James Sterling."
The name sent a flicker of recognition through her, but she couldn’t place it.
James took a step closer, the scent of expensive cologne and something darker—power, maybe—clinging to the air between them.
"I believe we have some business to discuss."
Emily’s fingers curled around the edge of the desk. Business? That didn’t make sense. She didn’t know him. She certainly didn’t owe him money.
Did she?
"If you’re selling something, I’m not interested," she said, attempting to mask her unease.
"You might want to reconsider." His gaze flicked downward—toward the unopened envelope on her desk.
Emily’s pulse jumped.
Her fingers twitched toward the letter, heart pounding.
He knew about it?
James exhaled; the kind of breath people took before delivering bad news. "Your father left you something."
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She let out a hollow laugh. "That’s impossible. I never knew my father."
James’s expression didn’t change. "And yet, you’re his only heir."
The words knocked the air from her lungs.
Emily’s grip tightened on the desk. Her father—the man she had spent her whole life pretending didn’t exist—was suddenly relevant again? No. This had to be a mistake.
She shook her head, heat creeping into her voice. "Look, I don’t know what this is about, but if this is some kind of scam—"
"It’s not." James stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Your father, Christopher Hayes, left you everything."
The name struck her like a slap on the face.
She had never spoken it out loud before. Had barely even let herself think it.
Christopher Hayes. A ghost of a man who had never been part of her life.
Her breath came short and uneven. "There has to be some mistake."
"There isn’t," James said, watching her carefully. "The letter will explain everything."
Emily stared at him, her world spinning.
This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "Why you? Why are you the one telling me this?"
Something flickered across James’s face—something unreadable.
"Because this inheritance isn’t just about you." He replied.
"Let's just say I have a vested interest in ensuring that your transition is as smooth as possible," James added, his tone mysterious
Emily gave an absentminded nod; her concentration torn between the unexpected news and the mysterious figure standing before her.
James's presence was fascinating and frightening at the same time.
She could feel the strain in his countenance, which made her begin to question the true motive of his interest in her rather peculiar situation.
A chill slithered through her veins.
Emily was in a state of shock, trying to process all that she had just heard. But it was difficult for her to take it all in.
And even though she didn’t know what James meant or even what any of this meant, deep down, she already knew one thing.
Nothing about this was going to be simple.
- Writer
