10 Chapter 10 – An Unexpected Invitation
Arthur: I find our conversations… refreshing. A break from the pretense I deal with daily,
As the guards escorted me out through the kitchen, Marcel shot me a sympathetic look. I didn’t regret my actions, but frustration burned in my chest. Why was this man so impossibly stubborn?
Philip spotted me first. His eyes widened in recognition, but before he could intervene, I was already setting plates in front of the Horton executives.
“Oh, I will.” His voice was cold. “But this conversation is over for now. I have a business
lunch to attend.”
Arthur: Maybe he was busy.
“Gentlemen,” I said smoothly, “pan–seared sea bass with lemon beurre blanc and seasonal vegetables.”
Arthur’s expression darkened. “This is neither the time nor place-”
“It’s not a coincidence,” I said firmly. “I needed to talk to you, and you weren’t exactly
making it easy.”
Need Iron: Would it matter if we had?
“Separate phones for business and personal matters.” He ended the call. “An
interesting coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“From the Civil Affairs Bureau, where all marriage certificates come from. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Need Iron: Yes, I’ll be there. Sunset Villa, Building C, Room 305.
I stared at my phone in confusion as “Grandson” called while the real Arthur Sterling sat across from me. My heart hammered in my chest.
I bit back a retort. Let him think what he wanted.
Arthur’s lips curled into a slight smile as he lifted his own phone. “And yet, I’m calling ‘Need Iron‘ right now.”
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Arthur’s head snapped up at the sound of my voice. The shock on his face was almost worth all the trouble I’d gone through.
I exhaled sharply. “Look, Mr. Sterling-”
Philip moved forward, placing a hand on my arm. “That will be all,” he said firmly.
“It’s… you,” I said slowly, holding up my screen for him to see.
The response came almost immediately.
I posted it to my story and shoved my phone back in my pocket. Let “Grandson” see that if he checked his feed.
Need Iron: You could say that. Tried to talk to someone important. He had me thrown out. Again.
I straightened, smiling politely. “Just helping out today, sir. I have many jobs.”
As Philip escorted me to the elevator, a plan began forming in my mind. If Arthur Sterling thought he could brush me off so easily, he was about to learn otherwise.
I pushed through the kitchen doors and made my way to table twelve. Arthur sat at the head, deep in conversation with three older men. Philip stood dutifully behind him, scanning the room.
He tapped his fingers methodically on his desk. “You know, I had Philip look into you after our first encounter. Elara Dubois, the illegitimate daughter of the Dubois family. No criminal record. Multiple part–time jobs. Nothing particularly remarkable.”
Need Iron: That’s funny. I feel the same way.
“Gentlemen,” Arthur addressed his guests, “please excuse this interruption. Ms. Dubois • was just leaving.”
“He will,” I replied, adjusting my hair under the chef’s cap. “That’s the point.”
There was a long pause before she replied.
I backed away, holding up my hands. “No need for that. I said what I came to say.” To Arthur, I added, “Noon. Civil Affairs Bureau. I’ll be waiting.”
Another
pause.
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Arthur: Have we met in person?
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, an unfamiliar feeling stirring in his chest. For the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to the evening.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “Ms. Dubois-”
He hesitated, then typed:
When the main course was ready, I personally arranged the plates on the serving tray. “I’ll take this one,” I told Marcel.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“You-” he started.
“I’m not trying to make a scene,” I said quietly. “I’m simply trying to make you understand that I’m not what you think I am. I’m just someone trying to solve a problem that affects us both.”
Arthur excused himself as the Horton executives prepared to leave. Once alone, he opened his chat with Need Iron.
“I tried the direct approach first, remember? Your security had me removed.”
Arthur rose, buttoning his suit jacket in one smooth motion. “Philip, see Ms. Dubois out. And make sure maintenance pays her contractor fee.”
“Arthur,” he corrected, leaning back in his chair. “After all, we’re supposedly married.”
I shook him off. “Actually, Mr. Mercer, I believe there’s something Mr. Sterling needs to
know.”
Arthur snapped back to attention. “Yes, of course. As I was saying, the initial offer stands, but we’re open to negotiating the transition period.”
Outside the restaurant, I pulled out my phone and opened my social media app. Without thinking, I typed:
Arthur stared at his plate, barely tasting the exquisitely prepared fish. That woman was becoming a genuine nuisance. How had she even known about this lunch meeting?
I clenched my jaw, watching him leave. This man was impossible. How was I supposed to get through to someone so arrogant and dismissive?
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I smiled. “Perfect timing.”
“Are you sure about this, Elara?” he whispered. “If Mr. Sterling recognizes you-”
“Sterling?” Richard Horton prompted. “About the merger terms?”
Arthur’s phone chimed with a message. He glanced at it, then back at me. “You fixed the air conditioner.”
Arthur: I’d like to visit my grandmother tonight. Will you be there?
Could it be another coincidence? Two interactions with two different women, both involving frustration and silver platters within minutes of each other?
“Some people are so arrogant they can’t see the truth even when it’s served to them on a silver platter. #ExhaustedByStubborness”
The Horton CEO beamed. “Sterling, you didn’t tell us the chef here was so lovely!”
Two security guards appeared beside me, summoned by Philip’s discreet signal.
I stood up, grabbing my toolbox. “Fine. But this isn’t going away, Arthur. We need to resolve this situation.”
“So you stalked me?”
Arthur felt an odd chill. There was something too familiar about her tone.
“I work at the coffee shop across from your office building on Mondays and Wednesdays,” I said calmly. “I deliver packages for Speedy Courier on Tuesday afternoons. I fix air conditioners for Aurora Technical. I’m a sous chef here three nights a week. And yes, I care for your grandmother on weekends.”
With that dismissal, he strode past me without another glance.
“The marriage certificate,” he finally said. “Where did you get it?”
Arthur stared at the message. She’d just given him her exact location–something she’d never done before. Was this an invitation? More importantly, was he actually
considering accepting it?
“Enjoy your meal,” I continued professionally. Then, leaning closer to Arthur as I set
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down his plate, I whispered, “Civil Affairs Bureau. Check it. Today.”
The pieces clicked together in my brain. “You have two phones.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.
“Is there anything else you gentlemen need?” I asked, ignoring him.
Arthur: Rough day?
The conversation droned on, but Arthur found his mind wandering repeatedly. There was something about Elara Dubois that didn’t fit the profile of an ordinary gold–digger. Her persistence was remarkable, he’d give her that.
On cue, Philip opened the door. “Sir, your car is ready.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Normally, he’d never check during a business lunch, but the meeting was wrapping up anyway.
“Yet somehow,” he continued, “you’ve managed to insinuate yourself into my grandmother’s life, claim a marriage to me, and now appear as my HVAC technician. That’s quite the coincidence.”
He studied me for a long moment. The silence stretched between us, tense and weighted.
I shrugged. “A girl’s got to eat.”
Philip leaned down to whisper in Arthur’s ear. Arthur nodded sharply.
Arthur found himself strangely drawn to this mysterious woman. Unlike the brazen Elara Dubois, Need Iron seemed genuine in her frustrations. There was something comforting about their exchanges.
“That’s my job.”
Arthur frowned.
Two hours later, I walked confidently through the kitchen of Le Ciel, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. The head chef, Marcel, gave me a quick nod as I tied on my apron.
Marcel shook his head. “Your funeral. Table twelve is his. The Horton Group executives are already seated.”
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Working part–time as a sous chef at Le Ciel had its perks–like knowing exactly where Arthur Sterling would be having his business lunch today.
The table fell silent, all eyes on me.
Need Iron: Maybe he’s too stubborn to listen. Ever consider that possibility, “Grandson“?
Silver platters. Like the ones the chef–Elara–had just used to serve their meal.
It was a notification from “Need Iron.” Curious, he opened it and read her status update. The message about arrogance and silver platters made him pause.
“One of many, apparently.”
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