Untamable Heiress

1 I earned a six figure salary working as an undercover handler for an elite heiress. My sole job was using love to tame her rebellious younger sister. For three years, my performance record remained flawless. Until tonight, when she shoved me aside at the canyon raceway for a boy in a crisp white shirt. My stomach dropped. Not from heartbreak, but from the agonizing thought of losing my double paycheck. Without hesitation, I turned around and submitted my resignation directly to her older sister. Three minutes later, the elder heiress personally locked down the entire raceway. The night wind sweeping through the canyon pass was freezing, making my eyes water. I took advantage of the momentum, squeezing out two tears while clutching tightly onto the sleeve of Stacey’s racing suit. "Stacey, don't go." I squeezed my throat, making my voice tremble with delicate perfection. "This mountain road is too dangerous, and I am genuinely terrified." I knew this routine by heart. For three years, whenever my eyes turned red, that stubborn mule Stacey would instantly soften up. She would curse under her breath, toss her car keys away, shove me into the passenger seat, and take me home for a cup of warm milk. Except tonight was different. Stacey did not wrap her arms around me like she used to. Instead, her brow furrowed. Her gaze drifted right past my shoulder, landing on the far corner of the bleachers. I glanced over my shoulder, following her eyes, and cursed under my breath. Standing in the shadow of the bleachers was a young man. He wore a faded white cotton shirt, completely unadorned. Amidst the crowd of slicked-back hair and designer suits, he looked like a innocent sapling swaying in the wind. The worst part was his expression. It was thirty percent stubborn, thirty percent unyielding, and forty percent ready to die for a cause. We were doomed. Alarm bells blared in my head. He had activated the heiress's true love trope. "Felix, be good." Stacey peeled my fingers off her suit. Her grip was not painful, but it was absolute. She carelessly placed a cigarette between her lips, leaning close to me with a wicked, predatory smirk. "Relax, your girl can handle a car. I have to win tonight’s prize." I looked toward the direction her finger pointed. The so-called prize was that boy in the white shirt. Word on the street was that his sister owed loan sharks a massive debt, and he had been dragged to the raceway as a human bargaining chip. Whoever won the race could take him home. What a cliché storyline. What a dramatic, trashy trope. Under normal circumstances, I would grab a bag of popcorn and watch the drama unfold from the curb. But right now, I could not bring myself to smile. Because this meant my personal cash cow was running away. Stacey put on her helmet and climbed into her flashy red sports car without looking back once. The engine let out a deafening roar. Surrounding rich kids erupted into wild cheers. "Stacey is insane!" "Raging through the track for a pretty boy!" "Felix, you are her official boyfriend, but you really can't keep a leash on your woman, can you?" A few upper-class trust-fund boys who always disliked me sauntered over, spouting cold mockery. I kept my head low, my shoulders shivering uncontrollably. To them, I looked like a heartbroken mess crying his eyes out. In reality, I was desperately holding back a laugh while rapidly running numbers in my head. My name is Felix. I am a professional boy toy. Or more accurately, a wild animal trainer hired at a premium rate by Eileen Sinclair, the eldest daughter of the Sinclair empire. Stacey was the wild animal I was assigned to manage. Three years ago, Stacey was an uncontrollable terror who got into street fights, drag races, and bar brawls every single day. Her grandfather nearly had a heart attack from stress. When Eileen took over the family conglomerate, her very first move was to clean up the household. But running a multi-billion dollar enterprise left her with zero time to baby her rebellious teenage sister. So, she sought me out. "I will pay you fifty thousand a month." Eileen had sat behind her leather executive desk, sliding a contract across the polished wood with icy composure. "Your mission is to make her fall in love with you. Then, use that romantic devotion to keep her in line. No drag racing, no brawls, no landing in the tabloids. Once she graduates university and enters the firm smoothly, you get a five million dollar final bonus in one lump sum." I stared at the row of zeros and signed my name on the spot. Are you kidding me? Fifty thousand a month base pay! That did not even include the watches, shoes, and pocket money Stacey showered on me. Taking two salaries at once was the absolute peak of corporate employment. For three years, I worked tirelessly. I played the role of a gentle, attentive, hopelessly fragile college student, driving Stacey completely crazy for me. For my sake, she quit smoking and drinking. She even dyed her neon hair back to natural black. She picked me up from class on time every day and spent weekends sitting quietly beside me in the library. The entire social elite rumored that the wild second daughter of the Sinclairs had been tamed by a commoner boy. Eileen was extremely satisfied with my performance, even handing out year-end bonuses twice. Stacey was only six months away from graduation. That five million dollar bonus was practically waving at me from the finish line. And then tonight, for some ungodly reason, she insisted on hitting the canyon pass with her degenerate friends, stumbling straight into Vincent, the innocent white-shirt boy. The red sports car launched forward like an arrow, its taillights cutting a red streak through the darkness. I let out a soft sigh, dropping the tearful act instantly. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my backup phone, opened an encrypted chat, and located the plain black avatar. "Boss, we have an emergency," I typed rapidly. "Target Two has encountered an uncontrollable emotional variable. In layman's terms, she fell for someone else. My tears no longer work. To avoid an embarrassing dismissal, I am applying for immediate termination of contract. Resignation has been sent to your email. How will this month's salary and severance be calculated?" After sending the text, I exhaled deeply. A professional must know when to hold on and when to let go. Losing the five million bonus stung, but I had saved plenty over the last three years. It was more than enough to buy a villa in my hometown and retire comfortably. The phone vibrated. Eileen replied within seconds. Her message contained only one word. "Location." I blinked in surprise, quickly dropping a pin of the raceway. No further response came. I leaned against the bleacher railing, staring bored into the freezing canyon air, pondering how to wrap things up. Stacey winning the race was a foregone conclusion. She was a former semi-professional track champion. When she returned triumphantly with her new boy, what posture should I adopt? Should I hysterically demand why she betrayed me? Or should I play the strong, heartbroken martyr who wishes her well before slipping away quietly? Which act would yield a higher break-up payout from her? While I was calculating the odds, a roaring engine echoed from the end of the canyon pass. The red sports car crossed the finish line first, pulling off a slick drift before stopping right in the middle of the crowd. Stacey pushed the door open and stepped out. She pulled off her helmet, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. That arrogant, wild demeanor was admittedly attractive to younger boys. The crowd burst into loud cheers. The organizers who set up the wager walked forward with sour expressions. "You won," the leader gritted out. Stacey smirked coldly. She walked straight to the corner of the bleachers, grabbing Vincent by the wrist. "He is coming with me. His sister's debt is cleared." Vincent struggled against her grip, failing to break free. He raised his head, glaring at Stacey with reddened eyes. "I don't need your pity! I will pay off my sister's debt myself!" What a line. Absolutely classic. Stacey clearly ate it right up. The grin on her face deepened. "Pay it yourself? With what? From today on, you belong to me. Be good, and don't make me angry." I watched from the sidelines with immense satisfaction, almost wanting to play background music for them. Until Stacey dragged Vincent along, striding straight toward me. The air around us instantly dropped to dead silence. Everyone focused on me with eager eyes, waiting for a pathetic show. I quickly pinched my own thigh hard, forcing a fresh pair of tears to weld in my eyes. "Stacey..." I lowered my head slightly, my voice trembling, eyes filled with shattered emotion. "Who is he?" Stacey looked at me, a brief flash of guilt flickering across her eyes before cold indifference replaced it. "Felix, let's break up." Her tone was as casual as discussing the weather. "I treated you well over the past three years. I bought you everything you wanted. You should be satisfied. I realized tonight that what I felt for you wasn't love. I just liked how obedient you were." She tightened her grip on Vincent's hand. "Until I met him, I didn't know what real sparks felt like." I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Lady, you met him for the first time tonight! What on earth do you mean by real sparks? You were captivated by his looks, plain and simple. Stop dressing it up as grand romance. Still, I had to finish my scene. I stumbled back two steps, my face pale, looking as if I might collapse at any second. "I don't believe you..." I bit my lip tightly, letting fat tears roll down my cheeks. "You said you would marry me! You promised we would get married right after graduation!" Stacey frowned, showing her impatience. "Felix, stop making a scene. Let's part on good terms. Tomorrow, I will have my assistant transfer two million to your account. The downtown apartment is yours as well. Don't come looking for me again." Two million dollars plus a downtown luxury apartment! My heart sang with pure joy. This was a massive win! The severance pay from the boss combined with the breakup payoff from the sister meant instant financial freedom! Just as I was preparing to take the exit ramp, crying hysterically while running off into the night, a massive roar descended from above. Violent wind swept across the ground, blowing sand and gravel into everyone's eyes. Everyone looked up in sheer horror. Three black helicopters hovered directly above the raceway. Heavy spotlights cut through the darkness like blinding blades, illuminating the entire venue bright as day. Immediately after, a dozen black Maybachs roared up from both ends of the canyon road. The screeching of tires echoed together, completely blocking every exit from the raceway. Panic broke out through the crowd. "What is going on?" "Is it a police raid?" "Look at those license plates!" Stacey's face drained of color. She instinctively pulled Vincent behind her back, staring fixedly at the central Maybach. The car doors opened. Dozens of bodyguards in black suits and earpieces filed out, quickly forming two disciplined lines. A woman in a tailored black trench coat stepped out of the vehicle. She was tall, with sharp, striking features. Her eyes radiated an overwhelming authority that instantly brought the surrounding temperature down to freezing. Eileen Sinclair. My cold, ruthless capitalist employer. She actually showed up in person? I froze in place, entirely forgetting to fake my tears. Eileen stepped forward, her high heels making heavy, deliberate sounds against the asphalt. She did not even glance at the trembling rich kids around her, walking straight in our direction. Stacey swallowed hard, her voice tight. "Sister..." "Why are you here?" She assumed Eileen came to drag her home. After all, the family rules were strict. Drag racing and taking home a random boy at midnight would result in severe punishment if their grandfather found out. Stacey set her jaw, standing tall. "Sister, I take full responsibility for this. I started it tonight. It has nothing to do with Vincent. Take it out on me, but leave him alone!" Her dramatic, protective stance almost gave her a heroic aura. Vincent hid behind her, staring at Eileen with deep suspicion and hostility, as if looking at a villain tearing lovers apart.