Chapter 9: Stacy Burton

The mid afternoon sun cast a soft amber glow over the wide glass windows of Crown Ivy Lounge, one of Westbridge's most exclusive upscale cafés. Located on the top floor of the Monarch Pavilion, the lounge was a known spot for the city's wealthy youth—an oasis of quiet refinement, fragrant imported blends, and velvet-draped privacy booths overlooking the ocean skyline.

When Liam had called Stacy and told her he was free, she'd practically lit up. She offered to pay and selected the meeting spot herself. And now, here they were.

Seated across from each other in a private booth, Liam watched as Stacy raised her cup delicately, took a sip, and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Mmm," she smiled. "They really know how to make a perfect honey-lavender latte here."

Liam merely offered a small nod as he cradled his own drink—an iced black citrus brew served in a frosted glass, the kind of beverage that looked like it belonged more at a Michelin-starred bar than a café.

He hadn't taken more than two sips, but he liked the taste.

Unfortunately for the beverage, Liam was still new to high-class things like it and couldn't fully appreciate it.

But what stood out more than the drink, however, was the look in Stacy's eyes.

She was smiling, speaking softly, even leaning forward a little—but Liam could see through all of it. She was curious. Starving, even.

And she was doing her best to hide it behind carefully measured charm.

After so long dealing with people—on both the low and high ends of society—Liam had learned something simple: people lie with their eyes more than their mouths.

Stacy, despite all her composure, had been waiting for this moment. And now that she had it, she didn't want to waste time.

"So," she leaned in slightly, resting her forearms on the table, "Mr. Liam, I'm really curious about you. But first—let me introduce myself properly. I'm Stacy Burton."

Liam sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Direct. No name-dropping yet. That's unexpected.

He had half-expected her to lead with who her father was or which board her mother sat on. But she didn't.

"Liam Scott," he said simply.

She tilted her head with a soft smile. "Liam Scott. That's a nice name. I like it."

"Thank you."

He didn't elaborate as there was nothing else to say.

He was watching her now—not out of suspicion, but out of curiosity. He wanted to see what she would do with the silence.

And just as he expected, she filled it.

"Umm," she began again, shifting her cup in her hands. "I still want to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean anything I said in a bad way or intend to be rude. I was just... surprised."

Liam gave her the same smile he had in the elevator the first time they met—polite but distant.

"Don't overthink it," he said. "Like I said, it's fine."

The truth was, her comments that day hadn't left the slightest dent in him. People's opinions were currency—they could only affect you if you gave them value.

And hers? It held no weight in his world.

Still, he understood that her earlier behavior had likely been her own misguided way of offering help.

She meant well. Even if she was awkward about it.

Stacy exhaled softly. She noticed that Liam wasn't offering much in the way of personal detail. But rather than be discouraged, she leaned into her natural charisma.

"I'll just be honest," she said with a shrug. "I'm curious about you, Mr. Liam. You don't talk much, and I can't find you online. Yet you own a penthouse in Palm Ville Estate? That's not exactly something normal people pull off."

She laughed lightly, but there was a deliberate weight behind her tone.

"You must be from some kind of family. Maybe one with a lot of influence or old money?"

Liam's expression didn't change. He didn't flinch. He simply took another slow sip of his drink and set it back on the table.

Then he smiled—but it wasn't a warm smile.

It was calculated, icy, with a hint of amusement beneath the surface.

And that smile, combined with the quiet intensity in his gaze, made Stacy freeze.

The moment stretched.

She looked away for a second, then forced herself to meet his eyes again.

"I'm sorry if I said something wrong," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to be invasive. I was just curious."

This was only the second time she had spent more than a few minutes with Liam. And yet, both times, she had walked away feeling something she hadn't felt in years.

Small.

It wasn't the car. It wasn't the penthouse. It wasn't even the way he dressed.

It was him.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't try to impress her and he didn't flinch under pressure.

He just... existed with total control.

That not only scared her but it also hurt her pride.

Her father was the founder of Altimax Holdings, a diversified investment group valued at nearly $10 billion.

Her mother owned one of the most influential boutique cosmetic empires on the West Coast of the country.

Through her parents' networks, Stacy had grown up surrounded by wealth, status, and access. She knew children of senators, CEOs, media barons, and she'd never once felt uncomfortable in a room.

Until now.

Across from Liam Scott, she felt like she was on trial—and she didn't even know what the case was.

Liam, for his part, understood exactly what Stacy was feeling.

She had made an assumption. That his penthouse meant he came from an elite family. A child of privilege. Someone like her.

But he wasn't.

He was just a young man with a secret that no one could comprehend. A secret that gave him more power, wealth, and freedom than most of these families could ever offer.

Still, he had no intention of correcting her.

Let her find out the truth in her own time.

He stood up smoothly, the chair making no sound as he rose.

"Miss Stacy," he said with a smile, "thank you for the drink. But I'll be heading out."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Wait—"

"I hope we get another chance to talk again," he added, his tone calm and final. "Maybe next time, we can both speak less like investigators... and more like people."

Before she could respond, he was already walking away.

He didn't look back.

The door of Crown Ivy Lounge closed behind him, and Stacy sat frozen, staring at the spot where he'd been sitting just seconds ago.

She sighed and took a slow sip from her latte, no longer tasting the sweetness.

A moment later, her phone buzzed. It was a call from one of her friends.

She answered, still staring at the table.

"Hey," she said, her voice a little distant.

"Stace, you okay? You sound weird."

"I just had coffee with someone. And... I can't explain it. He's different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I want to find out."

"If you say he's different, then he must be really special. Anyway, I'm with Alex and the others, and he's telling us something really juicy. Why don't you come over?"

"Sure. Give me a minute."

"Don't take long, girl," the girl on the other end said and hung up.

Stacy sighed as dropped her phone on the table.

"Liam Scott. Who are you?" She muttered to herself.