9
A year later, I was accepted into Northwood University. At my graduation party, Penelope brought me the latest gossip.
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Mr. Sterling, citing his age, had handed over control of the family empire to his eldest son, Marcus.
Ethan had been disowned.
“One of the Sterling maids told me,” Penelope whispered, “that Willow convinced Ethan to try and stage a coup for control of the company. It failed spectacularly, and they were both kicked out.”
I smiled and clinked my glass against hers. Of course. After Mrs. Sterling forced her to have an abortion, Willow would have been burning with hatred for them. She had just overestimated her pawn. Ethan was, and always would be, a useless waste of space.
He was thrown out without a penny. Willow, in a grand gesture of “true love,” left with him, convinced his parents would eventually relent. It wasn’t until the official change in company ownership was announced that she realized they were serious. Panicked, she urged Ethan to go back and apologize, but when the Sterl- ing family’s security guards blocked him at the gate, his pride was too wounded to ever go back.
Willow was forced to support them both on what little savings she had, still clinging to the fantasy that one day, the Sterlings would welcome their prodigal son home.
I knew that as long as Marcus Sterling was alive, that day would never come.
In September, I met Julian on campus during orientation. He was wearing a simple white t–shirt, a pair of silver–rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He smiled and waved. My brother, who had come with me, wat- ched him with narrowed, appraising eyes.
Julian greeted my family respectfully, then took my luggage and showed me around campus. I was in the economics department, and he was in computer science. Our buildings were close, and he started visiting me often. We became the best of friends.
In my second semester, a senior in my program asked me out. In front of all our friends, I turned him down. Why?” he demanded.
I gave him a lazy smile. “While you were plotting with your buddies about how to swindle my family out of our company, did you ever guess that I might be sitting at the table right behind you, listening to every word?
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His face turned beet red. “So I’m not good enough, but that poor nobody from the computer science depar- tment is? Don’t be a fool, Lillian! My family’s company is still in partnership with yours. One word from my
father, and you’ll regret this!”
Before I could respond, the door to the cafe flew open. Julian strode in, punched the guy square in the jaw,
and pulled me out of the room.
His usual calm composure was gone, replaced by a nervous energy I’d never seen before. He took my hand, his voice pleading. “Lillian, just give me some time. I swear, I’ll make myself worthy of you.”
Seeing the desperation in his eyes, I smiled and nodded.
Five years later, Julian proposed, offering me his brand–new, wildly successful company and his entire fortu- ne as a dowry. My brother, looking at the immense potential of his unicorn startup, gave his grudging appro-
val.
As for the senior who had threatened me, his family’s company had gone bankrupt two years prior.
Now, I watch Julian, my husband, tying on an apron to cook dinner. I laugh. “You sold your company to my
family. You know that means you’re stuck working for us for life, right?”
He brings the food to the table, his eyes warm and full of love. “I married the girl I’ve been in love with since I was seventeen,” he says, smiling. “I’d say it’s a fair trade.”
I laugh and take the spoon he offers me.
In this world, a normal world, there are no Mary Sue halos, no idiotic plotlines.
I am the protagonist of my own story. And I am living happily ever after with the man I love.
(The End)