The black limousine glided away from the Grand Imperial Hotel like a stealth bomber cutting through the quiet midnight streets.
Inside, the frantic energy of the night I was finally starting to settle—or at least, my nervous system was trying not to explode.
For starters I was sprawled across the leather couch like a discarded ragdoll.
My feet were completely numb inside my pointy Italian heels, my silver-streaked wig was tilted thirty degrees to the left like a crooked lampshade, and my heavy mink coat was tossed over the seat like a dead bear.
Across from me, Julian Sterling sat in dead silence.
His charcoal jacket was still neat, and his tie hadn’t moved an inch, and his dark eyes were fixed on his iPad screen.
He looked completely unaffected—a ice-cold statue built out of money, power, and zero emotions.
“Ah..
Julian,” I groaned, kicking off my right shoe with a loud, pathetic thump.
“If you don’t tell me my fifty thousand dollars has been wired, I am going to pass out on your floorboards.
My toes feel like they were crushed by a hydraulic press.” Julian didn’t flinch.
Slowly, almost menacingly, he turned the iPad screen toward me.
“Miss Fox,” he said.
His voice was smooth, icy, and totally flat, but the subtle muscle flexing in his jaw told me something major had happened.
“Look at this.” I squints through my fake eyelashes, clutching my aching foot.
“What is it?
Did Devon file a lawsuit for emotional damage?
Did the waiter I bullied call the cops?” “No,” Julian said coldly.
“You are currently the number one trending topic on the internet.” “Trending?
Like…
viral?” “On every major platform across the country,” Julian corrected, tapping the glass.
“At 9:15 PM, a high-society guest uploaded a ten-second clip titled ‘Lady Sterling liquidates a fortune hunter at the Grand Imperial.’ As of three minutes ago, it has five point eight million views.” My jaw dropped so fast I almost swallowed my fake lip liner.
“Five million?!” “Read the comments,” Julian commanded softly, his dark eyes tracking my reaction.
I leaned forward, squinting at the screen: @gossip_gala_99: “I need this woman to adopt me IMMEDIATELY.
The way she called his suit tight and his diamond cheap?!
She took his whole soul 💀💀” @nyc_fashion_junkie: “WHO IS LADY STERLING?!
She literally saved that poor girl from a total parasite and called his shipping line a glorified canoe service!
Give her a reality show!” @real_estate_king: “I was standing by the mini quiches when she told Richard Montgomery he had the energy of a stray terrier.
Absolute legend.” @vance_shipping_official: [Account set to private] A loud, uncontrollable cackle burst out of my throat, echoing wildly inside the quiet limo.
“A canoe service!” I crowed, slapping my knee.
“I told you, Julian!
I told you the canoe line was gold!
You owe me a bonus for pure creative genius!” “This is not a game, Roxie,” Julian said, his low voice cutting right through my celebration like a razor blade.
He didn’t raise his tone, but the weight of his presence instantly sucked the air out of the car.
“Richard Montgomery has already called three members of my board asking about ‘Lady Sterling’s European holding firm.’ Chloe posted a photo on Instagram holding a crab cake with the caption ‘Mother has spoken.’ The entire financial sector currently believes I have a wildly dangerous, unpredictable Monaco matriarch managing my family affairs.” “Well,” I said, leaning back and propping my bare, aching feet right up on the empty seat next to his custom suit trousers, “that sounds like a rich-guy problem, boss.
My four hours are officially up.
It’s 12:05 AM.
Send me my wire transfer so I can go home, rip off this wig, and devour a cold box of pizza.” Julian stared at my bare feet.
Then he slowly raised his eyes to meet mine.
There was no panic in his face.
No confusion.
Just a dark, sharp calculation that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“We have arrived at your destination, Mr.
Sterling,” the driver’s voice buzzed over the intercom.
The limousine smoothly pulled up to the curb outside my run-down, three-story apartment building.
The streetlamp overhead flickered like a horror movie set.
Across the street, a stray cat was aggressively boxing a rat over a leftover slice of garlic bread near an overflowing dumpster.
Ah, home sweet home.
I grabbed my vintage clutch, unzipped my mink coat, and reached for the door handle.
“Well, Mr.
Sterling, it’s been real.
Next time your niece date a leech, give me a call.
I charge double on weekends.” I pushed the handle, but before the door could open, a heavy, warm hand clamped firmly around my wrist.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was absolute iron.
I froze, turning my head back.
Julian hadn’t moved an inch, but his dark, piercing gaze was locked onto mine like a predator sighting its target.
The cold corporate titan hadn’t vanished—he had simply pivoted.
He looked at me not like a headache, but like an indispensable, highly explosive weapon he had just added to his arsenal.
“You aren’t leaving, Miss Fox,” Julian said softly.
I blinked, trying to tug my wrist back, but his fingers didn’t budge.
“Excuse me?
My contract said four hours, Julian.
I did the job.
I roasted the ex, saved the kid, and insulted the rival.
I’m done.” “If you walk out that door right now,” Julian said, his low rumble vibrating through the quiet leather interior, “the lie collapses by sunrise.
Devon will realize he was played.
Richard Montgomery will discover I hired an actress from a budget agency.
My board will call for a vote of no confidence…
and Chloe goes right back to being target practice for every gold-digger in Manhattan.” I frowned, my inner alarm bells ringing violently.
“Julian, I’m a broke twenty-two-year-old who eats instant noodles for dinner.
I can’t play an old lady forever!” “Not forever,” Julian murmured.
He reached into his suit jacket with his free hand, pulling out a sleek black fountain pen and a leather-bound checkbook.
“Just full-time.” I stopped pulling against his grip.
“Full-time?” “A permanent retainer,” Julian said, opening the checkbook on his knee with sharp, effortless precision.
“You remain ‘Lady Sterling’ on paper.
You attend four high-society dinners a month.
You sit on my family advisory board.
You act as Chloe’s official guardian at public events.
And whenever Richard Montgomery tries to execute a hostile takeover…” He paused, his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous edge.
“…you show up and make him regret breathing.” I stared at him like he had just offered to sell me the moon.
“Are you out of your mind?!
I have a life!
I mean…
it’s a chaotic life with two unpaid electric bills, but still!
I can’t just be a professional fake mom!” “One hundred thousand dollars,” Julian said quietly.
The limousine fell dead silent.
Even the driver seemed to stop breathing.
I blinked.
“Per…
per year?” “Per month,” Julian corrected without a single flicker of hesitation.
“Plus a unlimited luxury wardrobe allowance, a personal driver, a penthouse suite in the Sterling Tower so you don’t have to dodge sewer rats, and full immunity to verbally destroy anyone you dislike in the state of New York.” My brain completely short-circuited.
My silver wig finally lost its battle with gravity, sliding right off my head and plopping into my lap, revealing my messy brown hair underneath.
“One…
hundred…
thousand…
a month?” I squeaked, my fake European drawl vanishing into thin air.
“That’s…
over a million dollars a year!” “Plus bonuses for exceptional performance,” Julian added.
He wrote out the check with swift, elegant strokes, tore it off with a crisp, sharp snap, and held it out between two fingers.
“Here is your fifty thousand for tonight.
And a fifty thousand dollar advance for month one.” I looked at the check.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Signed in bold, permanent blue ink by Julian Sterling himself.
I looked at the check.
I looked at Julian’s razor-sharp jawline and unreadable, dark eyes.
I looked out the tinted window at my crumbling building, where the rat had officially won the garlic bread.
“Julian,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.
“You realize you are paying me a fortune just to publicly embarrass your billionaire peers?” Julian didn’t laugh.
He didn’t break character.
Instead, a slow, razor-sharp smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—faint, dangerous, and utterly captivating.
He leaned in just enough for me to catch the intoxicating scent of his expensive cedarwood cologne.
“Miss Fox,” Julian murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I am paying you because in four hours, you did what my entire legal team couldn’t do in four years.
You made my enemies look like fools…
and for the first time in ten years, I wasn’t bored for a single second.” I stared at him for three long, heart-stopping seconds, my fingers twitching over the paper.
I snatched the check out of his hand, shoved my silver wig back onto my head sideways, and slapped my dark sunglasses back over my eyes.
“Partner,” I rasped, bringing the Monaco drawl back with full dramatic force, “you just bought yourself the mother of the century.” Julian’s smirk broadened by a fraction of a millimeter—a subtle, lethal sign of victory.
He offered his hand, and I shook it with a firm, fifty-thousand-dollar grip.
“Welcome to Sterling Enterprises, Lady Sterling,” Julian whispered.
“Phase two begins tomorrow.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Bel_Rose And just like that, the four-hour contract turns into a full-time gig!($^_^$) Roxie going viral on TikTok, Chloe calling her “Mother” on Instagram, and Julian dropping $100,000 A MONTH to keep the fake matriarch on retainer?!
Talk about a major upgrade from living above a laundromat!
What do you think of Julian’s insane retainer offer?
Is Roxie ready for high-society life full-time?