Vaelis sat in her room, the dim glow of her laptop casting sharp shadows across the walls. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, pulling up recent sales reports and market trends. The woman from the café—Madeline Laurent—had sent her a list of items she was willing to part with. Hermès, Chanel, Dior. The kind of luxury that didn’t depreciate but, instead, became more valuable with time.

She had to be smart about this. One good deal could open doors, but one mistake could shut them forever.

---

Step One: Finding the Right Buyer

She didn’t just want a sale; she wanted the right sale. Someone wealthy, discreet, and willing to pay without questioning too much.

Vaelis scrolled through private auction listings and exclusive buyer forums. She didn’t have connections yet, but she understood one thing—wealthy people liked exclusivity. If she played her cards right, she wouldn’t just be another reseller; she’d be a curator.

Then, she found her mark.

Alessia Fontaine. Heiress to a shipping empire, known for collecting vintage fashion pieces. Vaelis had seen her at galas before, draped in couture, never wearing the same thing twice. More importantly, Alessia had a reputation for impulse purchases—if something caught her eye, she’d pay whatever it took to have it.

Vaelis drafted a carefully worded message, neither too eager nor too distant:

"Miss Fontaine, a unique Hermès Kelly in pristine condition has recently become available. Limited edition. I thought it might interest you before it reaches the open market. Discretion assured."

She hit send.

Within five minutes, a reply came.

"Where can I see it?"

A smirk ghosted Vaelis' lips.

---

Step Two: The Sale

Two days later, Vaelis arrived at the meeting location—an upscale boutique in the city’s fashion district. Alessia preferred private transactions, so she had booked an exclusive fitting lounge.

Madeline had given Vaelis the Hermès bag in perfect condition, barely used, with original packaging. It was a collector’s dream.

When Alessia Fontaine walked in, her presence filled the room instantly. High heels clicking against marble, an air of effortless luxury clinging to her like a second skin. She was beautiful, with sharp green eyes that assessed everything at a glance.

Vaelis stood, poised. She didn’t fidget, didn’t rush to greet her. Wealthy people respected confidence, not desperation.

“Miss Fontaine.”

Alessia lifted a brow. “You must be the one who messaged me.”

Vaelis simply smiled and gestured to the display case. The moment Alessia’s gaze fell on the bag, interest flickered in her eyes.

She stepped closer, running a manicured finger along the leather. “Exquisite,” she murmured. “Where did you find this?”

Vaelis tilted her head slightly. “I prefer not to reveal my sources. But I can guarantee authenticity.”

Alessia studied her, intrigued. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

Vaelis didn’t hesitate. “I’m new to selling. Not to understanding value.”

A pause. Then, Alessia smirked. “Interesting answer.” She turned back to the bag. “How much?”

Vaelis named the price—slightly higher than market value, but not enough to be unreasonable. Alessia didn’t even blink.

“Done.”

A few moments later, the transfer was complete. Fast, effortless.

Before leaving, Alessia glanced at Vaelis once more. “I like people with ambition. You’ll let me know when you have something else worth my time.”

It wasn’t a question.

Vaelis nodded. “Of course.”

The moment the door shut behind her, she allowed herself a small exhale.

First sale. First success.

Step Three: The Warning

That night, Vaelis took a longer route home, her senses unusually sharp. A gut feeling. The kind that kept her alert.

She wasn’t wrong.

Near the entrance of her family’s estate, a figure stood under the dim streetlights.

Rowan Sinclair.

He leaned casually against the metal railing near the entrance, arms crossed, his dark eyes flickering up as she approached. “You’ve been busy.”

Vaelis didn’t stop walking. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

Rowan pushed off the railing, falling into step beside her. “Word travels fast in circles like these. A no-name girl suddenly dealing luxury? That catches attention.”

Vaelis kept her gaze forward. “And why would that concern you?”

Rowan let out a quiet chuckle. “Not me. But not everyone’s fond of competition.”

She glanced at him. “Are you implying something?”

“I’m saying,” he drawled, “be careful who you step on while climbing up. Some people don’t like seeing an outsider win.”

Vaelis stopped walking, turning fully to face him.

“I don’t need warnings,” she said evenly. “If someone has a problem with me, they can come find me themselves.”

Rowan studied her for a moment before shaking his head with an amused smirk. “You really don’t scare easy, do you?”

Vaelis’ lips barely curved. “Never.”

With that, she walked past him, her heels clicking against the pavement, disappearing into the entrance of the estate.

Rowan watched after her, amusement flickering in his gaze.

Because unlike him, she wasn’t here to play games.

She was here to win.