Sold at Sixteen

When I was sixteen, my parents drugged me and offered me to an Ivy League board trustee. All to pave the way for my brother’s admission into an elite university. I fought with everything I had to escape and was miraculously rescued by the city’s most powerful billionaire. For seven years, I poured blood, sweat, and razor-sharp intellect into earning my place as his sole heiress. At twenty-three, I took over the investment division of his corporate empire. Holding billions at my fingertips, I sat at the head of the boardroom table. Sitting across from me was my biological brother. Tall, handsome, tailored in an expensive suit, practically radiating smug confidence. "As long as Ms. Sterling injects capital into the Vance Group, I promise you won't be disappointed!" My face remained completely impassive as I tossed his proposal straight into the trash can. "I wouldn't give a single cent to a piece of trash like you." Julian Vance's smile froze instantly. Beside me, my assistant, Maya, paled. She leaned in and whispered anxiously in my ear. "Ms. Sterling, while Vance Group is facing a tight cash flow, their tech patents have real potential.” “Besides, Julian Vance graduated from an elite Ivy League school with a stellar resume and an impressive industry reputation..." "An elite Ivy League school?" I let out a soft, mocking laugh. A sharp, throbbing ache flared in my right wrist. It was an old wound from seven years ago. Seven years ago, my biological father had done the unthinkable: he offered to take me out to dinner. In all sixteen years of my life, that was the very first time he had ever bought me a meal. I was thrilled. I put on my best dress. He led me into a luxury hotel and handed me a glass of water. Without a shred of suspicion, I drank it. My head began to spin, the world blurred, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I woke up, I was lying on the king-sized bed of a luxury hotel suite. When the fat trustee pounced on me with a lecherous grin, the sheer terror forced me halfway awake. I screamed with all my might: "Dad! Help me! Dad!" The man just sneered. "Your own father handed you over to me. You really think he’s coming to save you?" "Spend the night with me, and your brother gets his golden ticket to Harvard!" In that horrifying moment, I finally understood why my cold, neglectful father had suddenly acted so kind. Betrayed by my own flesh and blood, my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. But I was only sixteen. I refused to let this be my end! Agony and raw terror unlocked an explosive surge of strength inside me. I bit hard into his shoulder until blood filled my mouth, grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray from the nightstand, smashed it across his skull, and bolted out the door barefoot. He chased after me down the hallway. When I reached the fire escape, he grabbed my hair and dragged me down. Grinning savagely, he kicked me down the concrete steps and brought his heavy boot down hard on my right wrist. The bones shattered on impact. The excruciating pain nearly knocked me out, but I didn't shed a single tear, nor did I beg. The second his grip slipped, I threw myself down the flight of stairs, stumbled out the back exit with my last breath of strength, and collapsed into the freezing rain. When I woke up, I was in a private hospital room. The man who saved my life was Arthur Sterling, the billionaire chairman of Sterling Capital. He had been at that same hotel closing a multi-million-dollar deal and heard the commotion. Later, he officially adopted me. He told me that when he looked into my eyes at the hospital, beneath the fear and agony, he saw the ruthless, unyielding gaze of a wolf. He said I reminded him of his younger self. Arthur had four biological children, every single one of them a spoiled, useless trust-fund brat. He had spent years searching for a true successor. I seized that lifeline with both hands. For seven years, I studied day and night, mastering everything from foundational economics to complex financial hedge models. I graduated at the top of my class, earned every elite financial certification, and resolved massive corporate crises for Arthur. He was immensely proud of me. More than once, he offered to fly in the world’s top orthopedic surgeons to reconstruct my shattered wrist. Every time, I refused. "Leave it," I told him. "The pain keeps me sharp. It reminds me never to stop." This year, I graduated. Arthur asked me what I wanted to run. "Investments," I answered. He immediately handed me the reins of the group’s flagship private equity firm. I knew the Vance Group was bleeding money. I knew Julian desperately needed this cash injection to cover the massive debts from his gambling and reckless spending. This meeting was just the first move in my revenge. Now. I leaned back against my leather chair, my cold gaze sweeping over Julian's familiar face. "Maya, you're still young. It's easy to get blinded by a flashy resume. Some people can be handed an Ivy League degree on a silver platter, and they still won't know how to be a decent human being." Julian slammed his hands onto the table, his face twisted in fury. "Ms. Sterling! What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "Do you have any idea what rejecting Vance Group means?" "Do you have any idea who stands behind me?!""I don't care who stands behind you." I cut him off, my voice deadpan. "You don't meet my investment criteria. Vance Group's current balance sheet is a bottomless black hole.” “ I run a venture firm, not a charity, and I certainly don't throw cash into the gutter." "You!" Julian's face turned livid. His finger trembled as he pointed it straight at my nose. He spat a venomous curse, snatched his briefcase from the table, and stormed out. At the boardroom doorway, his rage still unsated, he whipped out his phone and made a call. He didn't bother lowering his voice in front of my team, making sure every word echoed clearly through the room. "Fuck! What an arrogant little bitch!" "God knows whose lap she crawled into to parachute into this position, and she actually dared to reject me!" "She looks barely twenty. Probably slept her way through the entire board to get that seat... fucking parasite!" His vulgar rant faded as the elevator doors slid shut. A dead, awkward silence descended upon the boardroom. I knew exactly what my employees were thinking. A young, strikingly beautiful woman with no public background suddenly parachuted in as the head of investment, and now she had blatantly humiliated the golden boy of the Vance family. My status as Arthur Sterling's adopted daughter was a strictly guarded secret, known only to my assistant and a tiny circle of top executives. Without missing a beat, I adjusted my cuffs and stood up. "Meeting adjourned." Before the words fully left my mouth, the double doors were violently kicked open. In marched Gregory Miller, the firm's CEO. In his late fifties, sporting a heavy beer gut and an oily, furious scowl, he glared at me with pure venom. Ignoring the junior staff in the room, he slammed his fist onto the mahogany table and roared, "Evelyn! Explain yourself right now! Why the hell did you reject Vance Group?" "Do you know how big Vance Group is? They're poised to be an industry leader! A single round of funding from us would have made our annual report look phenomenal!" I calmly signaled to the staff. "Everyone, out." Once the room cleared, I looked him in the eye. "Mr. Miller, Vance Group's cash flow has already ruptured twice.” “Their so-called revolutionary tech is a complete sham designed to embezzle funds and cover previous gambling losses. Investing in them is throwing money into an incinerator." "You're a green girl straight out of college! What do you know about high finance? What do you know about risk assessment?" Gregory sneered, looking down on me with total disdain. "I know the Chairman placed you here, but the old man is retiring soon! I am the CEO. In this firm, I have the final say! If I tell you to fund them, you fund them!" "The portfolio roster is finalized. Vance Group is not on it," I countered, standing my ground. "Then take someone off!" Gregory jabbed a thick finger in my face, spit flying from his mouth. "Cut the clean energy startup and give their allocation to Vance Group!” “If this blows up, you take full responsibility! Don't blame me when I fire your ass and throw you out on the street!" With that, he slammed the door and stormed off. Maya stood beside me, trembling. "Ms. Sterling, what do we do...?" "Proceed as planned," I said calmly. "Vance Group doesn't get a single dime." That evening, the moment I arrived at my penthouse, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I tapped answer. "Is this Ms. Sterling?" A familiar middle-aged voice drifted through the speaker. My biological father, Thomas Vance.After seven years, Thomas's voice hadn't changed at all—only grown raspier, and far more sickening. I paused, keeping my tone flat. "Speaking." "Ah, Ms. Sterling! I'm Julian's father, Thomas Vance." "Julian told me about what happened today. You know how young men can be—a bit hot-headed. Please don't take it to heart." Unsurprisingly, he didn't recognize my voice at all. Of course he didn't. To him, I had never been a daughter. I had been an object. He had raised me only to trade me off in an arranged marriage the moment I turned eighteen to inject cash into his business. And when Julian needed an Ivy League recommendation, he hadn't hesitated for a second to toss me onto an old pervert's bed. Even after I vanished into the night, he had never cared whether I lived or died. A sharp phantom throb pulsed through my wrist. I gripped the phone tightly. "State your business." "Well, Vance Group is hitting a temporary rough patch, and we urgently need your investment to bridge the gap. Could you show some professional courtesy? If you help us, name your price! Money? Equity? Or... something else?" The sleazy undertone in his voice was unmistakable. A wave of nausea washed over me. "Vance Group isn't worthy of Sterling Capital's money." The line went silent for a few beats. When Thomas spoke again, the polite veneer shattered. "Ms. Sterling, don't burn bridges you might need to cross. Don't think for a second that sleeping your way into Sterling Capital makes you untouchable. Arthur Sterling is an old man—how long do you think he can protect you? Besides..." His voice dropped into a venomous whisper. "Arthur's wife, Eleanor Sterling, is notorious for destroying any side-piece who dares look at her husband.” “If you don't want your little affair exposed to Mrs. Sterling, and you don't want your skin peeled off, you'd better sign that check for Vance Group. Otherwise, private photos of you will be trending on Twitter by tomorrow morning!" My voice was ice. "Go ahead and try." He flew into a rage. "Fine! Just you wait! Don't come crawling back crying!" He slammed the phone down. That very night, Julian went live on TikTok. On screen, he looked disheveled and pale, his eyes rimmed with red, playing the perfect victim. "Guys, I really didn't want to make this public, but corporate corruption is destroying our industry!" "There are women out there with zero qualifications who climb into the beds of powerful old billionaires just to get handed C-suite titles!" "She knows nothing about venture capital! She rejected Vance Group not because our tech isn't solid, but because of a petty personal grudge—because I rejected her advances!" "She's an escort in a designer blazer! The billions she manages are funded by her bedroom favors! People like her in power are a disgrace to the entire business world!" Because Julian was conventionally attractive and held the title of CEO of Vance Group, the livestream exploded. The chat scrolled at lightning speed, thousands of comments hurling disgusting slurs at me. Soon, so-called "insiders" leaked the exact date I took over the investment division, fabricating graphic stories about how I allegedly seduced the Chairman. The scandal skyrocketed to the top of trending topics on Twitter and Instagram. Users started tagging Eleanor Sterling's verified account. [Mrs. Sterling, wake up! Your husband's sugar baby is running wild!] [Drag that home-wrecking gold digger out into the streets!] Julian somehow found my private number and sent me a text. [Scared yet, little bitch?] [Get on your knees, beg me, call me Master, and wire the investment. Do that, and maybe I'll delete the stream.] I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. Is that your grand counterattack, 'brother'? Slander, smear campaigns, and slut-shaming. I typed two words back: [That's it?] Maya called me a minute later, her voice bordering on hysterical. "Ms. Sterling, PR is in full panic mode! Mrs. Sterling’s chief of staff just called asking for a full briefing—" "Don't panic," I said, a dark smile curling my lips. "If they want a spectacle, let's give them a front-row seat. Vance Group wants money, right? I'm about to hand them a massive gift."