Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
My mother had worked for the Sterling family as a housekeeper for eight years.
Since I was a year and a half old, she’d brought me to live with her in the staff room attached to the Sterlings’ three-story estate.
I always knew I was the one living on someone else’s kindness.
So I learned early how to read a room, how to stay quiet, how not to cry, make a scene, or cause trouble in front of the Sterlings.
Nathan Sterling, the heir to the family, was two months older than me.
When we were kids, he would tear across the yard like he owned the whole world, and I would crouch behind the window in the housekeeper’s room, watching him in secret.
He never knew I was there.
Or maybe he did—and simply didn’t care enough to know.
Nathan Sterling’s mother had died young, and Arthur Sterling had spoiled him into something close to untouchable. In all of Riverton, everyone knew the Sterling heir was trouble in human form.
He got into fights, skipped class, street-raced for fun—and somehow still pulled ridiculous grades. Even the teachers couldn’t do much with him.
My mom had a bad back, so Mr. Sterling asked me to bring Nathan’s school uniform up to his room.
I knocked three times, neatly folded blazer and shirt in my arms. No answer.
When I pushed the door open, he was just coming out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel around his waist.
Water ran from his collarbone down his chest. At seventeen, he’d already grown into the shape of a man—broad shoulders, lean build, the kind of presence that made a room feel smaller.
I froze.
He glanced at me, his brows drawing together. “Who told you to come in?”
“I—I brought your uniform.”
“So you’re Linda’s daughter?” He leaned against the wardrobe and looked me over from head to toe, his expression cool, impatient, almost vaguely appraising. “Don’t come into my room again.”
I set the uniform on the chair and turned to leave.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
“What’s your name?”
“Chloe Carter.”
He didn’t say anything else. I assumed that was all he wanted and hurried out of the room.
The moment I closed the door, I heard him let out a short laugh.
It was quiet, but I heard it clearly.
There was nothing kind about it.
From that day on, I became even more invisible in the Sterling house.
Every morning I got up at five, helped my mom make breakfast, then rode my bike to school.
Nathan went in the family car, with a driver who took him there and back rain or shine.
We went to the same school, same grade, different classes. He was in Honors Section One. I was in Section Seven.
Section One was for top students. Section Seven was regular track.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
That wasn’t about intelligence. It was about resources. The tuition the Sterlings covered for me only stretched far enough for the standard program. I’d never had private tutoring, never gone to prep courses, never had anyone coach me through exams. Everything I achieved, I clawed out on my own.
Even so, my grades stayed consistently in the top thirty of the entire year.
There was no mystery to it. I knew I had no safety net.
My mother always said, Chloe, you have to make something of yourself. The Sterlings have already done more than enough for us. We can’t give anyone a reason to look down on us.
I never forgot that.
So I studied like my life depended on it. I fought for every scholarship, every award, every chance to become someone undeniable.
I thought if I became good enough, the prejudice attached to where I came from would eventually disappear.
I was wrong.
One weekend in October, Nathan threw a party at the house.
Twenty or thirty of his friends showed up and packed the first floor of the villa wall to wall. Music blasted through the speakers, and empty beer bottles rolled across the floor.
My mom was running back and forth in the kitchen, and I got pulled in to help carry fruit platters and hand out drinks.
As I crossed the living room with a tray in my hands, one of the boys stepped in front of me.
“Well, who’s this?” he said, looking me over. “Cute little thing, too.”
He reached out like he was about to pinch my cheek.
I took a step back, and the juice glasses rattled on the tray.
“Don’t touch her.”
Nathan’s voice drifted over from the couch, lazy and amused. “She’s our housekeeper’s daughter.”
The room went quiet for one second.
Then everyone laughed.
“The housekeeper’s daughter? Seriously, Nate? Your staff’s kids look like this? What, do you screen for looks when you hire people?”
“All right, all right, stop. The poor girl’s blushing.”
I stood there with the tray still in my hands, my face burning.
Not from embarrassment.
From humiliation.
Nathan lounged against the couch, one arm slung around a girl in a short skirt, a lighter spinning in his other hand. He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth tipping up.
It was a beautiful smile.
And it hurt more than anything he could have said.
“Go back to the kitchen,” he said. “You’re not needed here.”
So I turned and walked away.
The tray stayed steady in my hands. My steps were steady. My expression was steady too.
It was only when I pushed through the kitchen door that the tears fell.
My mother saw my red eyes. She didn’t ask, and I didn’t explain.
She only sighed and pulled the strings of her apron a little tighter.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
That night, I lay awake for hours.
And somewhere before morning, I finally understood.
To Nathan Sterling, I wasn’t Chloe Carter.
I was the housekeeper’s daughter.
That label wasn’t going to disappear just because I got better grades. It wasn’t going to change because of how I looked.
It was carved into bone, carried in blood, a mark I would never be allowed to wash off.
I didn’t blame him.
Because that was reality.
And the only thing I could do was become strong enough that I would never need to depend on anyone again.
After that, I learned how to disappear inside the Sterling house.
Whenever I saw Nathan Sterling, I lowered my head and took the long way around. If I could avoid running into him, I did. If he was in the living room, I stayed in my room. If he was in the dining room, I waited until he finished eating before I went in.
My mom said I was being too careful. I told her it was fine. This way, everyone was more comfortable.
In November, the midterm rankings came out.
I placed eighteenth in the entire grade.
My homeroom teacher from Class Seven praised me so hard in front of everyone it was almost embarrassing. He said I was a miracle from the regular track, that I had a real shot at breaking into the top ten.
I was happy—really happy.
That happiness lasted less than an hour.
On my way to the cafeteria at lunch, I overheard a few girls from the honors class talking.
“Did you hear? That Chloe Carter from Class Seven ranked eighteenth in the whole grade. She beat a bunch of kids in our class.”
“So what?” another girl said. “Their exams are easier than ours. What’s there to compare?”
“Besides, she’s the housekeeper’s daughter. What’s the point of good grades? She’ll still end up working for somebody else.”
They laughed as they walked past me. One of them bumped my shoulder and didn’t even bother to say sorry.
I said nothing.
I’d gotten used to things like that a long time ago.
I got my lunch, found a seat, and had barely started eating when someone dropped into the chair across from me.
I looked up—and froze.
Nathan.
He was holding a bowl of noodles, a few strands still hanging from his fork like he’d just grabbed whatever the cafeteria was serving.
“Why are you sitting here?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He arched a brow. “You own the cafeteria?”
“…No.”
“Then be quiet and eat.”
I didn’t dare say anything else. I lowered my head and kept shoveling food into my mouth.
He ate loudly—slurping his noodles without the slightest concern for how it sounded. It was nothing like the way he ate at home.
At the Sterling house, he was always polished, precise, every movement elegant in that effortless rich-boy way.
But here in the cafeteria, he looked like any other high school boy.
No. Not like any other high school boy.