Starting Over
At twenty eight, Diana had never imagined her life would fit behind a classic Corvette’s bucket seat or that the man driving it might be her last chance at a new life.
She tilted the car’s seat forward and slid the first suitcase into the narrow space behind it. The second followed with a shove. One on the bottom, one on top—her entire life reduced to two rectangles of fabric and zippers, stacked beside Sterling’s.
Sterling Asher, age thirty, professional deal maker, investor, and drifter, watched without comment. His grey cowboy hat matched the Corvette’s interior like he was a Texas millionaire surveying his domain, hands in his pockets, letting her decide what came and what didn’t. His world didn’t have a trunk. It didn’t have storage. It didn’t have room for the past. In three years she’d never heard him mention a home address. He was always headed to the next town, the next client, the next deal.
“This button adjusts your power seat,” he showed her.
It hit Diana as she put the seat back up—one clean, brutal memory.
Wayne’s arrest. Agents pushing him into the back of a car while he shouted that it was her fault. True. Every deck he’d ever shown a room full of money had her fingerprints on it. Wayne demanded projections that looked better than the truth and Diana gave them to him. She cooked the numbers to help close the deals. Wayne called it salesmanship. Diana called it paying the rent.
His last deal, only months ago, was the one that caught up with him. Like always, he’d promised huge returns, always saying, “Trust me” when he didn’t have an answer. This time it was Estes Laudet Pharmaceutical’s beauty formula. Investors wanted proof it worked before they financed FDA testing. Wayne didn’t have it, so he turned to Diana. He pressured her to take it, promising it would make her beautiful and make them both rich.
Trust me.
She did.
The formula didn’t work. The deal collapsed. The investors lost their money, and Wayne eventually went to prison for securities fraud.
And then—the contrast that still stings:
Sterling. She’d noticed him long before Wayne’s world fell apart, during the meetings she attended with him and Wayne. She’d told herself her fascination was only admiration. He knew his business. He never cheated his clients. Never said Trust me when he didn’t have an answer. He always knew the right answer before the client even knew the question. But there was one thing about himself he never discussed.
His money.
He respected her intelligence too in working numbers. He saw her value in making money—and she saw what he was worth as a partner. Whether he was rich or not, she didn’t know. She only knew she wanted to work for him so badly she could hardly breathe.
The tip of a letter stuck out of her top case. An FDA inquiry asking whether Diana ever tested or evaluated a product for Estes Laudet Pharmaceuticals. Wayne’s promotional test, reaching for her again. She knew why they were asking. Non-approved testing was illegal. The letter wasn’t the first. It was the third. The first had asked politely. The second had used the word voluntarily. The third did not. She wasn't going to answer.
She was not going back to Wayne’s world—the one that used her brilliance and left her with nothing but an empty bank account and a bad name.
Let the FDA send all the letters they wanted. Sterling never stayed anywhere long enough for mail to catch up with him.
She took the passenger seat and Sterling closed her door for her once he was sure she sat securely inside. She caught her reflection in the side mirror—her skin briefly luminous, almost airbrushed. She blinked it away. Lighting. Illusion. Wishful thinking.
Wayne’s voice echoed: Trust me. This will make you beautiful—and us rich.
That lie again.
She shut the memory down.
That was all behind her now.
Within her, something turned over once, slow as a cat in its sleep, and went still.
Sterling moved around to the driver’s door, got in, and adjusted the tilt, telescoping steering wheel.
She adjusted her seat, the smell of the grey leather upholstery and the custom music surround sound system of Sterling’s world already wrapping around her as if it had been waiting. She had never imagined she would ride in such a car.
Watching her, he remembered her previous expression over remembering Wayne.
“You were frowning before. Anything wrong?”
“No, nothing's wrong.” Diana collected herself.
He added with a smile, “You do know my name’s not Wayne, right? Different man, different mistakes. Mine are more original.”
She tried not to notice how safe she felt whenever he looked at her or inhaled the smell of his cologne like fresh cut lumber.
“That's what makes everything right.”
The Corvette engine started with a deep rumble; five hundred horsepower Sterling had built himself. He did everything himself. The sound system came on. In spite of his Texas hat, Sterling never played country music--only the best, Franz Liszt, Chopin, Debussy.
Pink Floyd.
“Past stays where you leave it. Road’s ahead, Diana. We’re on our way to our first deal together. A small oil town in the middle of nowhere.”
They pulled out, music rising over the engine, her new life opening in front of them like a road with no past behind it.
Except for that letter. But right now, they'd never find her.
In the side mirror a mail carrier arrived with a handful of envelopes. Diana didn’t turn her head to see whose.
