The Morgan family villa sprawled across three acres of manicured lawns, its colonial facade gleaming white against the afternoon sun. Red silk banners fluttered from every pillar, announcing the engagement of Bella Morgan to Damien Pierce, heir to the Pierce Construction empire.
I stood at the ornate iron gates, my worn canvas bag over one shoulder, the yellowed marriage contract in my hand. The security guard looked me up and down with undisguised contempt.
"Service entrance is around back," he sneered.
"I'm here for the engagement party," I said calmly.
His laugh was harsh. "Right. And I'm the mayor of New York City. Beat it, kid, before I call the cops."
I held up the contract. "Tell them Ethan Hayes is here to see Bella Morgan. About this."
The guard squinted at the document, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion. He pulled out his radio, muttering into it. Minutes later, a woman in an expensive burgundy dress approached the gate.
Margaret Morgan, Bella's mother. Even through the iron bars, her disdain was palpable.
"So you're the mountain boy," she said, not bothering to hide her disgust. "I should have expected you'd show up eventually."
"Mrs. Morgan," I nodded respectfully. "I've come to honor the marriage contract between our families."
Her laughter was cold as winter wind. "Honor? Look at yourself, boy. Look at what you're wearing, how you speak, where you come from. Then look at this." She gestured at the magnificent estate behind her. "You think my daughter belongs with someone like you?"
"The contract was signed by both our families," I replied evenly. "My master saved your husband's life eighteen years ago. This was the agreed payment."
"That was a different time," Margaret's voice dripped with condescension. "We've moved beyond such primitive arrangements. Bella is marrying into the Pierce family. Real money. Real power. Not some backwoods fantasy."
The gate swung open, but not in welcome.
"However," she continued, "since you've come all this way, you might as well see for yourself how foolish this notion is. Come in. Let everyone see what Bella was supposed to settle for."
I followed her up the winding driveway, past luxury cars that cost more than most people's houses. The party was in full swing on the back terrace. Men in tailored suits, women dripping with jewelry, all of them radiating the casual arrogance of inherited wealth.
Conversations died as I appeared. Heads turned. Whispers began.
"Who's the peasant?"
"Is he lost?"
"Security must be slipping."
At the center of it all stood Bella Morgan, resplendent in a white designer gown that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She was beautiful, I had to admit. Delicate features, perfectly styled golden hair, a figure that had clearly benefited from the finest personal trainers money could buy.
Beside her stood Damien Pierce, every inch the wealthy young master. His suit was tailored to perfection, his smile practiced and predatory.
"Bella," Margaret called out, her voice cutting through the party chatter. "Your intended has arrived."
Every eye in the place fixed on me. The whispers grew louder. Someone snickered.
Bella's expression cycled through confusion, recognition, and finally, mortification. Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"What is the meaning of this?" Damien demanded, his arm tightening possessively around Bella's waist.
I stepped forward, pulling out the marriage contract. "Miss Morgan, I'm Ethan Hayes. I've come from the mountains to honor the agreement our families made eighteen years ago."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then someone started laughing. Others joined in. Soon the entire terrace was filled with mocking laughter.
"Oh, this is rich," a woman in pearls gasped between giggles. "The country mouse thinks he's going to marry our Bella!"
"Look at those clothes," another guest chortled. "Did he walk here from a farm?"
Bella's mortification transformed into fury. "How dare you embarrass me like this? At my own engagement party!"
"The contract—" I began.
"I don't care about any stupid contract!" she shrieked, snatching the yellowed paper from my hands. "Look at you! You're nothing! A nobody from nowhere!"
She held up the contract for everyone to see. "This is what I think of primitive arrangements and mountain boys who don't know their place!"
With theatrical flourish, she tore the contract in half. Then in half again. The pieces fluttered to the marble floor like dying leaves.
The crowd erupted in applause and laughter. Someone raised a champagne glass in mock toast.
"There," Bella declared, her voice shaking with rage and humiliation. "Now disappear before you embarrass yourself further."
Margaret stepped forward, pulling out a thick envelope. "Here's ten thousand dollars. More money than you've probably ever seen. Take it and go back to whatever mountain you crawled down from."
I looked at the money, then at the torn pieces of the contract, then at the faces surrounding me. Rich, pampered, cruel faces that had never known real hardship or genuine honor.
"Keep your money," I said quietly.
"Excuse me?" Margaret's eyebrows shot up.
"I said keep your money. You're going to need it."
Bella laughed shrilly. "Need it? We're the Morgan family! We don't need anything from country trash like you!"
I met her eyes directly. "You will regret this moment for the rest of your life."
"The only thing I regret," she spat, "is that I ever had to breathe the same air as you."
Damien Pierce stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "I think the lady made herself clear. Time for you to leave, farmer boy."
"Or what?" I asked mildly.
His face darkened. "Or I'll have you thrown out like the garbage you are."
"Damien, please," Bella touched his arm. "Don't waste your energy on him. He's nothing. Less than nothing."
The crowd pressed closer, sensing drama. Their faces were hungry, excited by the spectacle of wealth and privilege crushing rural innocence.
"Did you really think," Margaret addressed me with theatrical pity, "that a family like ours would lower ourselves to your level? That our daughter would throw away her future for some mountain hermit?"
"The contract was made in good faith," I replied. "Your husband's life was saved. Payment was agreed upon."
"Times change," she laughed. "People rise in the world. We've risen far above old debts to country doctors."
"Then we have nothing more to discuss," I said simply.
I turned to leave, but Bella's voice stopped me.
"That's right, run away! Scurry back to your mountains where you belong! And if you ever show your face here again, I'll have you arrested for trespassing!"
Her words followed me as I walked toward the gate. Behind me, the party resumed with renewed energy, the guests feeding off the drama they'd just witnessed.
I had almost reached the driveway when commotion erupted behind me. Car engines, running footsteps, excited voices.
"They're here!"
"Oh my God, it's really them!"
"The Reed family!"
I turned to see three black limousines pulling up the circular drive. Expensive cars, but more than that—cars that commanded respect. The license plates alone marked them as belonging to New York City's most powerful family.
The first limo's door opened, and Chloe Reed stepped out. She looked radiant, her earlier heart episode completely resolved. Her elegant black cheongsam drew appreciative murmurs from the crowd.
The second door opened, and Evelyn Reed emerged. If she had been beautiful in the car, she was breathtaking now. Her burgundy evening gown hugged her figure perfectly, her hair styled in an intricate updo that probably cost more than most people's rent.
But it was their destination that sent shockwaves through the crowd.
Margaret Morgan rushed forward, her face bright with desperate hope. "Mrs. Reed! Miss Reed! What an incredible honor! Welcome to our humble—"
They walked right past her.
Damien Pierce stepped forward, his most charming smile in place. "Ladies, I'm Damien Pierce. Perhaps you'd like to—"
They ignored him completely.
The entire crowd watched in stunned silence as the two most influential women in New York City bypassed every wealthy, powerful guest at the party.
They walked directly to me.
"Mr. Hayes!" Chloe's face lit up with genuine joy. "You're indeed here!"