GREASE AND GOLD: THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEIR OBSESSION

Laura tightened the last bolt on a stripped-down Yamaha engine and wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist.

“You are a legend,” her blonde friend, Claire, praised from a bench across. “Just what can't you fix, girl?”

Laura didn't smile but she spared Claire a quick glance, her eyes softening around its edges, only slightly. But then, her gaze shifted to the envelope pinned beneath a wrench on her workbench and her eyes hardened.

“Bunch of assholes!”

Claire followed Laura's gaze and picked up the envelope. “Another notice?”

Laura didn’t answer.

Claire sighed dramatically, opening the envelope and taking out the white paper in it. She unfolded it and started to read aloud.

“Final acquisition notice. Regal Empire Urban Development Division requests immediate compliance regarding evacuation of commercial premises located on—”

“Don’t.” Laura reached Claire in two strides and snatched the paper from her hand, crumpling it. “I know what it says.”

Claire rose slowly, leaning against a nearby counter in heels no sane person would wear into a garage. Her pale pink blazer looked worth more than Laura’s monthly rent. Probably because it was.

“Laura, you can’t keep pretending they’ll go away,” Claire’s ocean-blue eyes held worry. “Regal Empire will stop at nothing to get what they want.”

Laura tossed the paper into an oil-stained trash can. “Then Regal Empire can choke on my exhaust.”

A laugh burst out of Claire before she covered it with manicured fingers. “God, you’re impossible.”

“That’s what keeps me alive.”

The garage was open to the street, the metal shutters rolled high enough to let in sunlight and noise.

Outside, the neighborhood moved in its usual rhythm—vendors shouting, children running barefoot, buses coughing smoke into the air.

Across the street, another shop had already been boarded up. Another family was gone.

Claire noticed Laura looking. “Maybe this is a sign.”

Laura turned back to the engine. “Don’t start.”

But Claire didn't stop. “My mother meant what she said. She’ll pay for you to go back to school with me. Tuition, books, housing—everything. You’re too smart to be stuck here.”

Laura’s wrench stilled in her hand. The words always hit the same sore spot.

Once upon a time, Laura Montez had been a sophomore engineering student with perfect ‘A’ grades and impossible dreams. Then her father went to prison and her younger sister, Sofia got sick…

“I’m not charity,” Laura finally found her voice.

“You’re not charity,” Claire repeated. “You’re my best friend.”

Laura nodded slowly. “Exactly… Then be my best friend and stop trying to rescue me.”

Claire pouted with a sigh. “Fine. Fine.”

Just then, the low growl of an expensive engine rolled into the garage. Both women turned.

A sleek black motorcycle glided to a stop near the entrance. It was custom-built, expensive-looking. The rider removed his helmet.

Claire’s mouth actually parted. Laura only narrowed her eyes, a hint of annoyance surfacing.

The rider was tall. Chestnut-brown hair. Broad-shouldered. White. Clean-cut in the kind of effortless way money bought. And his eyes— Gray. Cold as stormwater.

He stepped off the bike and glanced around the shop like a man cataloguing defects.

Laura didn't even bite back a scoff. His gaze landed on her, then held, something unreadable moving through it.

“My bike’s making a grinding sound in second gear.” His voice was low, polished, annoyingly expensive too. “I was told this is the best shop in the district.”

Laura snorted. “You were lied to.”

Claire elbowed her lightly. “Laura.”

“No, I’m serious.” Laura folded her arms. “There are plenty of mechanics uptown who’d love to polish your chrome and kiss your shoes while they do it.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “I only need the bike repaired.”

“And I only need rich men out of my garage.”

Claire made a strangled sound. “Ignore her. She’s feral before lunch.”

But the stranger's gaze remained fixed on Laura. “How much?”

Laura scoffed again. “No.”

“I didn’t ask if you would. I asked for your price.”

Laura stepped closer, chin tipping up. The stranger before her made her suddenly very aware of her height. “My price?”

Laura smiled without warmth. “My price is this: get your overpriced toy and ass out of my shop before I charge storage.”

Claire whispered, horrified, “Laura—”

“Now.”

The man studied Laura briefly. Then smiled slowly. Something resembling amusement or fascination, Laura wasn't sure, glinted in his eyes.

Nodding once, he put his helmet back on, and mounted his bike. “I’ll be back, fireball.” He started the engine.

Laura barked a laugh. “Not if you value your tires.”

He drove away, chuckling.

Claire spun to her. “Do you know how gorgeous he was?”

Laura said nothing but her eyes watched the street long after the bike disappeared. Something about the man unsettled her.

By sunset, Laura rolled down the shutters and counted the day’s earnings.

Not enough. Never enough.

She tucked the money into her backpack and headed to St. Anne’s Medical Center two bus rides away.

Hospitals smelled worse than garages. Bleach, stale air, fear.

Laura made a part payment of the outstanding balance at the reception and pretended not to notice the pitying look from the clerk.

Dr. Raman met her outside the pediatric ward.

“Laura,” he wore a kind smile. “Sofia had a better day today.”

Laura felt a surge of slight relief. “And the scans?”

“We’re monitoring growth progression. But she’ll need the next treatment cycle soon.”

Which meant more money. Always more money.

Laura nodded as if her lungs hadn’t tightened. “I’ll get it to you, soon.”

He simply nodded and started to walk away.

She drew a sharp breath and entered Room 214, managing a wide smile.

Her thirteen-year old sister, Sofia looked tiny in the hospital bed, dark curls spread over the pillow, a comic book open on her lap.

“You’re late.” Sofia’s jade green eyes shot up at her.

“I know, sorry.” She reached for the young girl's hand, squeezing it affectionately.

“Did you eat today?”

Sofia nodded. “Yes.”

“All of it?”

“…Most.”

“Sofia.”

“Fine. The green beans were suspicious.”

Laura laughed, then brushed hair from her sister’s forehead. “You rascal!”

Sofia giggled, then a soft sigh escaped her lips. “Did Dad call?”

Laura hesitated. “Not today.”

Sofia looked down. “I miss him…”

Laura sighed, the sound heavy. Their father, Mateo Montez, former Managing Director of Regal Empire, had been convicted of corporate sabotage two years ago.

Laura remembered the trial. The cameras. The lies. The speed of it. Too fast. Too clean.

“I miss him too.” Laura squeezed Sofia's hand again. “I’m getting him out. You’ll see.”

“And then?”

“And then you get better.”

“And then?”

Laura smiled despite herself. “And then I go back to school.”

Sofia grinned. “And build me a motorcycle?”

“The fastest one alive.”

Sofia yawned. “Pink.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’m staying sick.”

Laura gasped theatrically. “Blackmail.”

As Sofia drifted toward sleep, Laura sat beside her in the dim room and listened to the machines breathe.

Her mind drifted to earlier. To the stranger with gray eyes that had promised to come back.

Laura hoped he would. She was in the mood to break something.