The Inherited Stranger

"Thank you for coming today. And... my condolences for your uncle's passing," said Mr. Smith, the family lawyer who had served the household for over a decade. His voice was calm, but his eyes carried the weight of something more than just grief.

​"Miss Elena," he continued, sliding a crisp white envelope across the polished mahogany desk. My name was inked boldly on the front, the handwriting unmistakably my late uncle's. "He asked me to deliver this to you personally. His final instructions."

​My throat tightened as my fingers hovered over the letter. Something about the way Mr. Smith avoided my gaze told me this wasn't just any letter. My fingers trembled as I broke the seal and pulled out the paper.

​Dear Elena,

​If you're reading this, it means I am no more. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this earlier, but I wanted you to have this after I was gone. You've been like a daughter to me since I took you in, and I want you to know I'm proud of you. This letter contains the will to an island I have left behind for you-Erténa Island. There are rules you must follow once you arrive, and you will not be alone...

​"What?!" I screamed, slamming the paper onto the table. "I have to live there for a year with some rando?" The name, Lucas Vance, was written in bold, unforgiving letters.

​"I'm sorry, Elena, but those were your uncle's instructions," Mr. Smith said calmly, seeing the desperation in my eyes as I sat speechless.

​Who the hell is Lucas Vance, and why does he get to stay on my island?

​

Lucas's POV

​

The crash of the ocean waves was the only sound I heard as I stood at the edge of Erténa Island. The wind tugged at my shirt, carrying the faint scent of salt and earth. This island was supposed to be my escape, my solitude. But solitude never lasts long, does it?

​Mr. Smith's call still echoed in my head. "You won't be alone there, Lucas. The late Mr. Alden made arrangements."

​Arrangements. That was one word for it. Shackles was another.

​I clenched my jaw, folding the letter tighter in my hands until the paper crumpled. A stranger, some girl I'd never met, was about to share my exile. Her name was Elena Hayes. I had no idea who she was, but if she thought this island was going to be hers, she was in for a surprise. Erténa wasn't just an island to me. It was the only place where my sins could be buried. And now, she was coming to dig them up. I reached into my pocket, grabbed my phone, and made a call.

​"Get everyone ready to welcome our expecting guest," I said into the phone. "Elena, huh? Let's see what you're about."

​Elena's POV

​I drove back home, the will a chaotic blur in my mind. I had lived with Uncle Frederick, his wife Clarissa, and their daughter Tiffany for years, but Uncle Frederick was the only one who ever treated me like family. Aunt Clarissa and Tiffany always made me feel like an outcast. Now that he was gone, I was left to deal with my aunt's treachery alone.

​"Can't believe Uncle Frederick would make such terms," I muttered as I walked into our mansion.

​"Oh, sweet cousin, where have you been?" Tiffany called out from the staircase, a mischievous smile on her face. Our mansion was grand, but today it felt like a gilded cage.

​"What do you want, Tiffany?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

​"With Dad gone, what makes you think you have the right to be in this mansion?" she shot back.

​"I've lived here for fifteen years. I have as much right to this house as you do."

​"Oh, please! Spare me the drama. You're nothing but a charity case Dad took in. Now that he's gone, neither my mother nor I owe you a thing. The sooner you start packing your things, the better," she replied coldly.

​"You..." I started to retort, but a sharp slap from Aunt Clarissa cut me off.

​"Shut your mouth, you ungrateful wretch! From today, you cease to be a member of this family. Pack your things and leave immediately," she snapped.

​Still reeling from the slap, I seethed silently. They had always treated me like trash. Did I really want to live with these monsters? No. Erténa Island might just be my ticket, not only to claim what I deserved, but to make them pay. I stood firm and calm, a smirk playing on my lips.

​"Lucky for you both, I was already on my way out," I said. I pulled out the envelope containing Uncle's letter and tossed it at her. "No worries. You won't be seeing any more of me from today," I added, a satisfied smile on my face.

​I walked up the stairs to my room, leaving the two of them staring at the letter in shock.

​"Whaaat!! Dad gave her an island??" Tiffany shrieked. "How is that possible?"

​"Says here she has to live with Lucas Vance for a year before claiming the inheritance," Aunt Clarissa read aloud, her eyes narrowing.

​"Lucas Vance? As in the Lucas who's been living on Erténa?" Tiffany gasped.

​"No... that... that's impossible. We have to stop this. That wretch can't possess what should be ours!" Clarissa snapped, her mind already scheming.

​Inside my room, I sat staring at the suitcase. "Am I really going to a mysterious island to live with a Lucas for a whole year?" I wondered. "What if he's a creepy old pervert? A dangerous maniac?... No. I trust Uncle Frederick. If he wanted me to take over Erténa, then I can't afford to disappoint him."

​I packed my clothes and called a cab. As I descended the stairs, memories of the fifteen years I had spent in the mansion flooded my mind. It was time to change my fortune, and finally uncover the secrets behind Erténa. My cab waited outside. Without a second glance at the mansion, I got in and we drove off.

​After two hours and thirty minutes of driving, the cab finally stopped at the entrance of a sprawling estate-like island. A shadowy figure stood waiting. My heart skipped. Was that... him? Lucas Vance.

​And from the look in his eyes, I knew my life was about to change forever.

​

​I stepped out of the car, my eyes immediately drawn to the stranger waiting outside.

​"Miss Hayes?" His voice was deep, clipped, and his expression was sharp and unchanging.

​He was tall, I could swear he was over 6'3". His face was well-structured with a perfectly outlined jaw. His pointed nose was alluring, giving balance to his perfect facial structure. His hair was long but tied up in a bun. With a nice carved mustache and goatee, his pink lips sat between them. He wore a nicely tailored black suit that wasn't fitted but still gave way for his muscles to be seen. His perfectly shined black boots shone under the sun.

​I was too busy noting his perfection I didn't notice I had been staring, almost drooling.

​"Miss Hayes?" he called out again, snapping me out of my delusion.

​"Mm? Yeah...uh...it's Elena. Just call me Elena," I replied, flushed at how I had been staring.

​"Sure." He replied coldly.

​"Uh, rude," I thought to myself.

​"And you must be Lucas Vance?" I asked, unscathed.

​"The one and only," he replied, his gaze still fixed on me. "This is my assistant, John. He will take you to the mansion and give you a tour if you need one. I have a meeting. We'd chat when I'm back," he said before walking towards the black Chevrolet Camaro that stood waiting for him without a second glance at me.

​John, his assistant, walked towards me with a soft smile.

​"Miss Hayes, follow me please," he said, reaching for my traveling box.

​The wheels of my box rolled softly over the cobblestone path beneath us. The stones were smooth, worn down by years of footsteps, yet still strong and unbroken. On either side, wildflowers pushed through the grass, their colors bright against the deep green that stretched across the island. The air smelled of salt and something sweet, like the earth itself was alive and waiting.

​There was a little town, fishermen throwing their nets into the sea from their boats, a little farmers' market which we passed. I saw women making embroidery stitches. They must be tailors, I thought to myself.

​"I actually thought there were no inhabitants here," I started, trying to ease the silence between John and me.

​"Oh...nothing grand. These people have lived here long before I came with Mr. Vance. They worked to keep the island alive for your uncle, Mr. Alden," he answered calmly.

​"Mr. Vance, huh? Is he always that...cold?" I asked inquisitively.

​John chuckled lightly.

​"Mr. Vance is kind of complicated. But I promise he has a soft heart under that deep voice and expressionless glare," John answered.

​"I doubt," I murmured to myself.

​After walking for about seven minutes, we arrived at a huge mansion.

​Damn! It's even larger than ours back home.

​John pushed open the tall mahogany doors, and they groaned softly on their hinges as though they carried the weight of years.

​The first thing that struck me was the size. The foyer soared upward into a vaulted ceiling, where a crystal chandelier glimmered with fractured sunlight. The floor beneath my feet was a flawless stretch of polished marble, its veins twisting like frozen rivers.

​Two sweeping staircases curved upward on either side, meeting at a balcony that overlooked the entrance hall. Dark oil paintings lined the walls, landscapes of Erténa's coast, portraits of people I didn't recognize. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me as I stepped inside.

​Fresh flowers sat in a tall glass vase on a round table at the center of the room, their fragrance softening the otherwise intimidating grandeur.

​"It's... massive," I whispered, half to myself.

​John gave a faint smile. "Your uncle took great pride in this place. Every piece of it was built with care. And now," he paused, glancing at me as though weighing his words, "it belongs to you."

​I let that sink in as my eyes drifted upward again, drawn to the chandelier's glittering light. For a brief moment, I felt both overwhelmed and strangely... chosen.

​"Let me show you to your room, Miss Ha-" John began, but I cut him off gently.

​"Elena," I corrected, offering him a small smile. "Just Elena."

​John gave a polite nod. "Of course, Elena."

​He led me up the wide staircase. The hallways smelled faintly of cedarwood and something older, something... timeless. We passed tall arched windows where the velvet drapes were tied back neatly. Outside, the evening sun spilled orange light over the sea, the view stretching endlessly beyond the glass. My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, too loud in the heavy silence.

​Finally, John stopped before a double oak door. He pushed it open gently, revealing a spacious room with soft cream walls, a canopy bed dressed in white sheets, and a carved wooden wardrobe. On the far side, French doors opened to a private balcony overlooking the ocean.

​"This will be your room for the time being," John said, setting my traveling box at the foot of the bed. "If you need anything, I'll be just down the hall."

​I stepped inside, my fingers grazing the carved bedpost. The room was beautiful, almost too beautiful, as if it held stories I wasn't yet meant to know.

​Lucas's POV

​Inside the car, I thought to myself. She was beautiful. A perfectly toned skin, pink lovely lips that sat on her cute face. Little freckles complementing her one-sided dimple. Her hair, long and soil brown. Her scent filled my nose the closer she got. She allured me but I tried to act unphased.

​"What is it about this woman that calmed my hard heart for a moment?" I muttered lightly.

​The car pulled to a halt.

​"We are here, sir," my driver called from the driver's seat, jolting me from my thoughts.

​I walked out briskly, headed towards the large building complex-Vance Corporations. I have worked hard for years to be where I am today. It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, but I earned the robust life I live today, including Erténa. If living with Elena meant having full inheritance over my Island, I wasn't planning to make her stay sweet.

​Elena's POV

​My slumber was cut short by the little knock on the door. I sprung up, looking at my silver wrist watch. It was quarter past eight.

​When did I fall asleep? I thought.

​"Come in!" I answered, sitting up.

​"Miss Elena, dinner is served in the dining," a woman, supposedly in her late 50s, said, creaking my door open.

​"Okay, thanks. I'd be right there," I responded.

​She closed the door and walked away. I got up, putting my box on the bed and searching for something light to put on. I saw the cute black gown Uncle Frederick gave me three years ago for my 21st birthday. Still as lovely as it was when he first got it. My hand trailed the little buttons on the chest area as I thought, it'll be perfect.

​I quickly put on the dress and walked down towards the large dining on the east wing as John had told me. There at the dining table was a huge feast. Delicacies of different kinds filled the air with such a sweet aroma. I walked slowly towards the table, my eyes moving from one dish to another. My mouth watered and I couldn't wait to devour them. Just then my eyes moved towards the man seated at the end of the long table. It was Lucas.

​I walked to the seat opposite his and sat facing him at the other end of the table. Grabbing a plate to fill with the dishes I found most enticing, I decided to start a small conversation.

​I mean, I'm gonna live with him for a year, I might as well try to like him, I thought to myself.

​"So...Lucas. I didn't get the opportunity to tell you it was nice meeting ya," I said, my hands still busy dishing food.

​He ignored.

​"Well, as you already know, I'm Elena, late Mr. Alden's niece and I'd like it if we both cooperated and got to know each other since we are forced to be cohabitants of this beautiful mansion," I continued, pausing what I was doing to face the figure who hadn't said a word since I arrived.

​"Elena, is it? And why do we have to like each other?" Lucas finally spoke, taking a spoon of what seemed like curry before him.

​"I mean...it's better than forcing your arrogance on me, don't you think?" I replied him sternly.

​Pushing his chair back, he stood up briskly and walked towards me. The air suddenly became thick. His gaze pierced through me as he walked closer and closer, not a smile in sight.

I tried to stay calm, but my heart pounded in my chest. My throat felt tight, and my hands trembled slightly on the tabletop.

​Lucas stopped just short of me, his towering figure casting a shadow across the table. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but razor-sharp.

​"You'll soon learn, Elena," he said, his breath warm against my ear, "liking me isn't a requirement for surviving here."

​He pulled back, his expression unreadable, before turning and walking away, leaving the faint echo of his words behind. I sat frozen in my seat, spoon suspended in mid-air, my appetite gone.

ELENA'S POV

The heavy sound of Lucas's footsteps faded as he left the dining hall, leaving me staring at the long stretch of table between us. The feast suddenly felt less appetizing, but my stomach won the argument, and I quietly finished what was on my plate. The silence of the mansion pressed in, broken only by the faint tick of an old clock somewhere down the hall.

When I finally returned to my room, I set my half-packed box by the dresser and sank onto the bed. My eyes traced the carvings on the wooden ceiling, my mind still tangled with thoughts of Uncle Frederick's letter, the island, and the man who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

One year, I reminded myself. Just one year. But as I lay down, staring at the shadows stretching across the walls, a single question echoed in my head: how on earth was I supposed to survive here and who Is Lucas Vance?

The soft rush of the waves lulled me into sleep, pulling me under before I could find an answer.

Morning came with the cry of gulls outside my window and the faint scent of salt drifting in with the breeze.

I sat up straight, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. The sunlight pouring through the tall windows illuminated the room's beauty in a way I hadn't noticed the night before.

Stretching, I rose and wandered into the spacious bathroom tucked beside a walk-in wardrobe. After a refreshing shower, I scavenged through the clothes already neatly arranged and separated in the wardrobe. My eyes settled on a simple outfit: a black leather jacket over a white top, paired with blue jeans. Black boots completed the look as I grabbed them on my way out.

Heading down the hallway toward the dining area, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh God!" I gasped, clutching my chest.

"Sorry, Miss Hayes. I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said apologetically. She looked to be in her late fifties, her kind smile softening the sharpness of her sudden appearance.

"I'm Gertha, the head chef," she introduced herself warmly.

"Nice to meet you, Gertha," I replied with a small smile, still catching my breath.

"Breakfast is served in the dining hall," she said, bowing her head slightly.

"Perfect. I was just heading there," I answered, then added casually, "Will Lucas be joining us?"

"Mr. Lucas already left for work, miss."

"That's alright," I said with a relieved smile, continuing toward the dining room.

"Well, good thing that meany isn't here," I muttered under my breath, smirking.

The dining hall felt emptier than last night, though no less grand. A long polished oak table stretched across the room, but only one place had been set, mine.

Silverware gleamed under the chandelier, and steam rose from platters arranged neatly along the sideboard. Freshly baked bread, golden croissants, bowls of colorful fruits, scrambled eggs, and a pot of what smelled like rich coffee filled the air with a heavenly aroma.

I slid into my chair, a small smile tugging at my lips. At least someone here wanted me fed.

As I helped myself to eggs and bread, I couldn't help but think about Lucas. Cold, arrogant, impossible Lucas. How could someone so handsome be so insufferable? I rolled my eyes just at the thought of him.

Still, the food was comforting. Each bite softened the sting of last night's tension, and for a few minutes, I allowed myself to enjoy the quiet.

"Hmm... maybe living here won't be so bad," I whispered to myself, savoring the taste of the croissant.

But the thought didn't last long. My eyes drifted to the far end of the table where Lucas had sat the night before. The chair was empty now, but somehow his presence lingered,like a shadow I couldn't shake.

As I ate, a thought struck me. Why don't I go to the town today?

"Miss Gertha!" I called out.

"Yes, Miss Elena?" she answered, appearing almost instantly.

"I'd like to go to the little town today," I said with an enthusiastic smile.

"Ah, ready to address the people, I see!" she replied, her face lighting up.

"Address the people?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"Of course, Miss. Those townsfolk were your uncle's workers. Now that he's gone and Erténa belongs to you, they're yours."

"My workers?" I echoed in disbelief. Was this some kind of fairy tale where I was suddenly the princess of a town? The thought made me both nervous and giddy. Oh my God, today is going to be interesting.

"I'll call your assistant immediately, Miss," Gertha said with a small bow before disappearing down the hall.

"Assistant?" I muttered, still baffled.

I was finishing off the last bites of my breakfast when a young woman walked in with a bright, confident smile.

"Good morning, Miss Elena. I'm Melody, your new personal assistant," she said proudly.

"Nice... nice to meet you, Melody," I replied, my voice carrying a tint of confusion.

"I'll be with you wherever you go and answer any questions about your duties here on Erténa, Miss," she explained, her tone soft but purposeful.

"Okay, so let me get this straight." I leaned forward, eyes wide. "I own this island, the people in it too, and everything around here is under my administration now?"

"That's exactly it, Miss," she said with a polite nod.

"Well, in that case, let's start by calling me just Elena. You're my assistant, sure, but I think we're going to be great friends."

Melody's smile widened. She was young, probably around my age, with warm eyes and a charm that felt instantly disarming. She wore a simple cream blouse tucked into a navy skirt, her neat braids swinging gently as she nodded.

The cobbled path wound down from the mansion into the heart of the town, Melody walking briskly at my side. Children darted between stalls, their laughter mingling with the clatter of pots and the cries of merchants selling their goods. The salty air from the sea mixed with the smell of fresh bread, smoked fish, and ripe fruits.

I slowed my steps, soaking it all in. "This place is... beautiful," I whispered, almost to myself.

Melody beamed. "Your uncle made sure the people always had what they needed. He wanted the island to thrive."

We wandered from stall to stall. A woman pressed a bundle of herbs into my hand, insisting it would help me sleep better. A fisherman proudly displayed his catch, the silver scales of the fish glinting in the sun. I smiled, thanked them, and felt something warm stir in my chest.

But then, the atmosphere shifted.

A few men paused their work, staring at me with furrowed brows. Two women at the fruit stand leaned closer, whispering behind their baskets. Children stopped their games to point before their mothers hurried them along.

"Who's that?" a voice muttered near the bakery.

"Never seen her before."

"She's with Melody... could she be a guest of Mr. Vance?"

"No, look at how she carries herself. Who does she think she is?"

The murmurs swelled, like the tide rolling in. Everywhere I turned, eyes followed me,not hostile, but questioning, suspicious.

I leaned closer to Melody, lowering my voice. "Why are they staring at me like that?"

Melody's smile faltered for the first time. "They... they don't know about you yet. For years, they've only ever seen Mr. Vance as the one in charge."

My chest tightened. "So to them... I'm just a stranger?"

Melody hesitated, then gave a small nod.

A strange chill settled over me despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. For the first time since stepping onto Erténa, I wondered if Uncle Frederick's gift was more curse than blessing.

LUCAS' POV

The steady rhythm of my fingers against the keyboard filled the office, the glow of the screen casting pale light on the polished desk. Numbers, contracts, projections, all things that usually demanded every ounce of my focus blurred for a moment.

Instead, my mind wandered back to last night.

Her voice. The way her eyes darted across the table, full of fire and defiance. The way she stiffened when I spoke.

Did I frighten her?

I leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. It shouldn't matter. She wasn't here for comfort. She wasn't here to be understood. She was here because of a piece of paper Mr Frederick left behind. A piece of paper that handed her power I had bled years to earn.

Still, the thought lingered. Was she really a threat?

I shook my head sharply, dismissing the weakness before it could grow. No. She was just a complication. One I would control.

My eyes slid to the clock on the wall. Noon. I hadn't stepped foot in the town in weeks, maybe longer. Not since Father...no, since he passed. Perhaps it was time to see how things were faring. Erténa had always thrived under my watch. The people trusted me.

Yes. I'd leave the office early. Drive down into the heart of town. Remind the island who truly kept it alive.

I smirked faintly, the thought oddly satisfying. If Elena thought she could walk in and claim her place here, she was in for a rude awakening.

ELENA'S POV

At first, I tried to ignore the stares. I busied myself with Melody, peering at stalls, asking questions, smiling politely. But the murmurs only grew louder as we moved deeper into the town square.

"Who is she?"

"Never seen her before."

"She walks like she owns the place."

My smile faltered, unease prickling my skin. "Melody," I whispered, leaning closer. "They're staring."

"They're only surprised, Miss...uh, Elena," Melody corrected herself quickly. "They've only ever known Mr. Lucas as the master of Erténa."

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. I turned to the crowd with a brave smile. "Good morning," I began softly. "I'm Elena Hayes... Frederick Alden's niece. I thought it was time I met all of you."

The name fell like a stone into water. Ripples of discontent spread instantly.

"Alden's niece?"

"So she thinks she's the new mistress?"

"This is Lucas's land now!"

The voices hardened, fusing into one sharp edge. My chest tightened as the crowd pressed closer.

"We don't need some outsider telling us how to live!" a man shouted.

A woman pushed to the front, her face flushed with anger. "All these years we worked under Mr. Alden, and now you come waltzing in, claiming us like property?" She sneered. "You're not one of us."

"I didn't mean..." I started, but my words were drowned out.

"You don't belong here!" the woman spat, raising her hand as if to strike.

I froze, my breath caught, heart pounding in my ears. I flinched instinctively, bracing for the sting.

And then a voice, low and commanding, sliced through the uproar.

"Enough!"

The crowd stilled. Silence dropped heavy as everyone turned. Lucas stood at the edge of the square, his eyes like steel, his presence alone enough to silence the mob.

He strode forward, his gaze fixed first on the woman, then on me. He stepped in front of me without hesitation, shielding me completely.

"She is under my protection," he said coldly, his voice carrying through the square. "Anyone who lays a hand on her answers to me."

The woman's hand trembled, then dropped to her side. The others backed away slowly, murmuring again, this time in hushed tones.

I looked up at Lucas, my chest still rising and falling quickly. Relief washed through me, but so did confusion. His glare hadn't softened, not toward the people, not toward me.

"She stays," he repeated, his tone final.

And just like that, the tension broke. The townspeople scattered, leaving me trembling beside the man I wasn't sure was my savior... or my jailer.

The crowd dispersed reluctantly, their whispers trailing behind them like smoke. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand tall behind Lucas's broad frame.

He didn't look at me. Not once. He simply turned on his heel and muttered, "Follow me."

And though part of me wanted to argue, my feet moved anyway, following the man who had just saved me from strangers... but whose silence frightened me more than their anger.