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Her Castoff Blind Date, My Road to Riches Novel Cover

Her Castoff Blind Date, My Road to Riches

When Myra Walsh insults her blind date and forces her cousin Sam to take her place, she has no idea she is throwing away a fortune. While the family views Henry Quinton as a penniless ex-convict, Sam recently witnessed his VIP status at a bank vault. Disguising herself as an innocent girl, Sam approaches the mysterious man. Henry warns her of a difficult life ahead, but Sam commits to the ruse, choosing his hidden millions over her family's superficial judgment.
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Chapter 2

I snapped the blade of the knife shut and pulled it back.

Henry froze.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up, and my voice came out choked with emotion.

"I'm scared, but I'm more scared that you'll hurt yourself with the knife. If you owe money, we can pay it back together. I've got hands and feet. I can take care of you."

Henry stared at me intently, as if trying to find a crack in my expression. But he failed.

Even I was almost convinced by the sincerity in my eyes.

As someone who had worked in a bank, I knew the first rule of training all too well—when dealing with a major client, you had to love him more than his own mother ever would.

The ferocity in Henry's gaze faded, replaced by something unreadable, almost amused.

He yanked open a greasy drawer and casually tossed something at me.

"Catch."

I scrambled to catch it, and when I looked closer, I saw that it was a ring bound with a red string, set with a red stone about the size of a fingernail. It looked poorly made, like something from a roadside stall.

"I got it for five dollars from a roadside vendor," he said. "Take it as an engagement token. If you think it's ugly, just throw it away."

He then lit a cigarette and turned his back on me.

I lowered my head and looked at the stone.

It was a deep crimson, rough ruby, with a rich, saturated color and a vivid, fiery glow.

I didn't need it cut or polished to know that it was worth a fortune. Only the richest of the rich would toss something like this into a drawer to gather dust.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but my face broke into a bright, delighted smile.

I didn't care if it was dirty. I slipped it straight onto my finger and held it up toward the dim bulb above.

"It's beautiful! It's red like blood."

I ran over and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his vest that hadn't been washed in days.

"This is the most expensive gift I've ever received, Mr. Quinton. I'll wear it for life."

Henry's body stiffened, but he didn't push me away.

The next day at noon, I was eating a bowl of beef stew outside the company building.

Henry showed up.

He wore the same torn tank top, flip-flops, and an unshaven beard, looking as though he had just crawled out of a back alley.

The office workers around us instinctively covered their noses and detoured away, but I lit up like I had just seen a celebrity and waved excitedly.

"Mr. Quinton, over here!" I called out.

He walked up and sat across from me like he owned the place, casually resting his feet on the chair bar.

"This is what you're eating?"

"It's good," I said, pushing my bowl toward him. "Try it, Mr. Quinton."

Just then, my phone rang. It was my cousin, Myra Walsh, on a video call.

I answered without bothering to hide Henry.

On screen, she appeared fully made up, sitting in an upscale restaurant.

"Samantha Walsh, where are you?"

Her eyes landed on Henry in the background, and she immediately burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, isn't that the ex-con? Why is he dressed like a beggar? Sam, are you so broke that you can't even afford a meal? Do you want me to have Jasper send you a couple of hundred dollars?"

The man beside her flicked up his wrist, showing off a designer watch, and scoffed.

Henry continued eating his stew, his expression blank, acting as though he had heard nothing.

I turned on the speakerphone and cranked the volume up.

Several nearby tables started looking over.

I propped the phone on the table and glared at Myra.

"Watch your mouth, Myra. He's my boyfriend. Don't you dare talk about him like that."

Myra laughed so hard that she nearly cried.

"Boyfriend? A garbage-collector boyfriend? Sam, you're really hopeless."

I snatched the fork from Henry's hand and slammed it onto the table.

My eyes went red in an instant. My voice trembled, but I kept it steady.

"He may not have money right now, but he treats me well! I don't want your dirty money, and I don't want your branded watch either. In my eyes, Mr. Quinton is a thousand times more attractive than your rich playboy!"

Without waiting for her reply, I hung up the phone immediately.

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