He called her “nothing” as he slammed the door shut in front of her pregnant belly. Ten years later, she returned—successful, untouchable, and with twin sons bearing his face—to witness his perfect life crumble before everyone’s eyes.
Ten years ago. A dilapidated Brooklyn neighborhood.
The November rain lashed against the glass, cold and merciless. Inside the cramped apartment, reeking of dampness, Michael Sterling was fastening gold cufflinks to the cuffs of his pristine white shirt.
“Michael, please,” Sarah’s voice trembled as she leaned against the kitchen door, her hands clutching her seven-month pregnant belly. “You can’t just leave like this. We’re going to have children. Two boys…”
Michael turned, his handsome face cold and disdainful. He picked up his briefcase, looking at Sarah as if she were a stain on his expensive Italian shoes.
“We?” Michael chuckled. “There’s no ‘us,’ Sarah. I’ve just been nominated to the City Council. I’m engaged to Elena Vanderbilt. Do you think I’m going to bring a waitress and these two bastards into the future Governor’s mansion?”
“But they’re your children…”
Michael stepped closer, his face close to hers. The scent of his expensive cologne masked the foul smell of the kitchen.
“Listen carefully,” he hissed. “You have no proof. No one believes you. You’re just an uneducated country bumpkin. For my bright future, you…” He pointed to her belly, then to her face. “You’re nothing. You’re nothing.”
He walked toward the door.
“Michael!” Sarah screamed and ran after him.
BANG!
The wooden door slammed shut in front of her, narrowly missing her pregnant belly. His footsteps faded down the stairs. Sarah slipped down the stairs, collapsing onto the cold floor, her tears mingling with the sound of the falling rain.
That night, Sarah swore she wouldn’t die. She would live. And she would become a number Michael Sterling couldn’t count.
Ten years later. The Plaza Hotel, Manhattan.
The Plaza Hotel lobby was resplendent with crystal chandeliers. This was the annual fundraising gala of New York Governor Michael Sterling.
Michael was now at the height of his power. He was 42, handsome, with captivating platinum blonde hair and a perpetually “perfect” smile. Beside him was Elena, his aristocratic wife, beautiful but with a hint of sadness in her eyes. They were hailed as the golden couple of politics, though everyone knew the rumor: They were infertile.
“Governor, are you worried about your opponent in the upcoming election?” a reporter asked.
“Not at all,” Michael replied confidently, his arm around his wife’s waist. “My foundation is my family. Voters trust me because I am honest and responsible.”
The crowd erupted in applause. Michael raised his champagne glass, savoring the moment of glory. Tonight was crucial. The mysterious hedge fund Phoenix Capital had pledged $50 million to his campaign in exchange for funding a riverside real estate project.
“Has the CEO of Phoenix Capital arrived yet?” Michael whispered to his assistant.
“She just arrived, sir. She’s in the VIP room.”
“She?” Michael raised an eyebrow. He had always imagined the person behind Phoenix was some old Wall Street figurehead.
The large doors swung open. A woman entered, and the entire audience seemed to hold their breath.
She wore a daring yet incredibly elegant black velvet evening gown. Around her neck was a priceless Harry Winston diamond necklace. Her chestnut brown hair was styled in a proud, high bun. Her demeanor exuded absolute power, the kind of power that could crush anyone in its path.
Michael narrowed his eyes. That face… was both strangely familiar and terrifyingly alien.
The woman strode straight toward Michael, her high heels clacking on the marble floor like a death clock. Behind her were two large bodyguards.
“Governor Sterling,” she began, her voice warm but sharp. “I am Sarah Vance, CEO of Phoenix Capital.”
Sarah. That name. Michael paused for a second. He looked closely into her eyes. No longer the naive, frightened waitress. Only the eyes of a leader.
“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Vance,” Michael regained his composure, extending his hand. He reassured himself: It couldn’t be her. She was worthless. This woman reeked of billions.
“I heard you need $50 million to keep your governorship?” Sarah didn’t shake his hand. She held her glass of wine, smiling weakly.
“This is an investment in New York’s future, ma’am,” Michael withdrew his hand, trying to smile.
“Future…” Sarah repeated, glancing at Elena standing beside her. “You’re always talking about the future and family. It’s a pity you don’t have children to inherit that great legacy, isn’t it?”
Elena’s face turned pale. Michael froze. “This is a private matter between my wife and me. We’ve dedicated our lives to the people.”
“Oh, I see,” Sarah nodded. “Then I have a surprise for you. An investment… double the amount.”
She snapped her fingers.
From behind the curtain, two boys emerged.
The audience was utterly astonished.
The two boys, about 10 years old, were wearing perfectly tailored tuxedos. They
Identical as two peas in a pod. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that characteristic dimple.
They were like Michael Sterling. Like a
perfect miniature of his youth.
Michael dropped his glass. Clang. The glass shattered in a deathly silence.
The two boys didn’t smile. They stood on either side of Sarah, arms crossed, staring at Michael with a cold, scrutinizing gaze—a gaze Sarah had taught them for the past ten years.
“Introducing everyone,” Sarah said loudly, her voice echoing down the hallway. “Ethan and Noah Vance. My sons.”
“W-what?” Michael stammered. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Reporters began pointing their cameras at him, their flashes lashing like a storm.
“Why are you so surprised, Governor?” Sarah stepped closer, whispering loud enough for him and Elena to hear. “Don’t you recognize your job? Ten years ago, you slammed the door in their faces. You called them ‘useless’.”
Elena turned to look at her husband, her eyes wide with horror. “Michael… what is this? They… they look exactly like you.”
“No! No! She’s lying!” Michael yelled, his feigned calm crumbling. “I don’t know her! Security! Get her out!”
“Wait,” Sarah raised her hand. A bodyguard stepped forward, handing her a file.
“Before firing your biggest investor,” Sarah smiled, “let’s talk the numbers.”
She tossed the file onto the table in front of Michael.
“This isn’t a DNA test. Although I have one and sent a copy to the New York Times this morning,” Sarah said calmly. “This is your financial record.”
Michael opened the file with trembling hands.
CURLY:
“You think Phoenix Capital just showed up?” Sarah circled Michael like a predator circling a wounded prey.
“For the past five years, you’ve borrowed money from all over to cover your budget deficit caused by gambling and bribery. Your creditors… East Asia Bank, Liberty Trust, Construction Group… Do you know who bought all those debts?”
Michael looked at the numbers. The debt holder: Sarah Vance.
“It’s me,” Sarah whispered in his ear. “I own the house you live in. I own the car you drive. I own the $10 million gambling debt you’re hiding from your wife. And most important…”
Sarah pointed to the large screen on stage, where the ceremony was being broadcast live.
“I own your career.”
On the screen, Michael’s campaign logo faded. Instead, there was a security camera video from 10 years ago – in the hallway of a dilapidated apartment building. A young Michael Sterling brutally slammed the door in the pregnant woman’s face. The sound was muffled, but the words rang out clearly: “You’re nothing. You’re nothing.”
The entire auditorium explodes. Boos, shots, angry whispers. Elena slapped Michael hard and ran off the stage.
Michael stood there, trembling, his perfect world falling apart in an instant. He looked at his twin sons. They looked back at him, emotionless, like they were strangers.
“Sarah…” Michael knelt down, tears streaming down his face, which had lost all expression. “I’m sorry… I was wrong… They’re my children… I can be their father… Give me a chance…”
He knew this was his last lifeline. If he accepts the children, maybe he can salvage some of his image as a “repentant father”.
Sarah looked down at him. She remembered that rainy night. Thinking back to the 10 years she had spent as a single mother, studying law, and working her way through the tough business world, all in a frantic effort, just waiting for this moment.
She bent down and lifted Michael’s chin.
“You want to be a father?” she asked.
Michael nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes… I am their father.”
Sarah smiled. She turned to her two sons.
“Ethan, Noah. This man says he is your father. What do you think?”
Ethan, the older brother, took a step forward. He adjusted the bow tie on his collar, looking straight into the eyes of the man kneeling on the ground.
“Sir,” he said in a clear but cold voice, a perfect copy of his mother’s. “My mother taught me: A father is someone who nurtures, protects, and loves. You do none of those things.”
Noah continued, more cruelly: “You’re just a sperm donor. And according to the bankruptcy papers my mother has…”
Sarah straightened up, letting go of Michael’s hand as if discarding a broken item. She looked down at him, her eyes no longer filled with hatred, only pity for a loser.
“See, Michael,” Sarah said, her voice soft but resounding like a judgment bell. “You want me to save you? You want to adopt a child?”
She turned, motioning for her two sons to follow her.
“I’m sorry. Sorry to us and sorry to the world from this moment on…”
She turned back, throwing at him the words he had once etched into her heart:
“You are nothing. You are nothing.”
Sarah Vance walked out of the Plaza Hotel, her two sons beside her, heads held high. Behind her, Michael Sterling lay collapsed amidst the ruins of fame, fortune, and family—buried by the very past he had once despised.
t.
Outside, the rain had stopped. The New York night sky was ablaze with stars. Sarah knew the storm of her life was truly over.
