WOLF and the Runaway Heiress.

Chapter 01

RIO

My mother, the woman I idolize and respect the most in this world, hummed as she stirred the simmering homemade spaghetti sauce.

This was her happy place.

She may be the current cover feature for the Fortune 500, but my mother was the humblest billionaire you’d ever meet.

She gave more to charity than most; she built her empire on helping those in need. And she always made sure to show her gratitude with foundations, charities and donations.

She always said, 'You may have wealth today, but it could all be gone tomorrow. Make sure you have built a strong enough foundation to weather the hardships. A foundation built on love, trust and dedication to those around you.' That was who Evelyn Ricard was.

I watched my mother glide around the kitchen, shaking her hips to the Spotify playlist she had linked to the Bluetooth sound system. Her fiery red hair cascaded gracefully with her movements.

Everything about her was done with perfection, even when she wasn’t trying.

I was a carbon copy of my mother. From the striking red hair, the piercing doe eyes, to the passion for being in the kitchen.

This was where nothing from the outside world could reach us. We were safe here. It was just the two of us.

“Rio, stop daydreaming and check on your tarts,” my mother teased as she glided past me.

When I say glided, I kid you not, she had a way about her. Commanding, yet graceful. Like a swan gliding over water.

Snapping out of my trance from watching my mother master over dinner, I rushed to the stove and pulled out my lemon meringue tarts.

Where my mother excelled and was passionate about cooking, I absolutely adored baking. So much so, that I have just finished my pastry studies and was not ready to enter the world as a pastry chef-in-training.

My mother and I were already working out a business plan. In a few years, once I have gained more experience and proven myself, I will start my own café and bakery shop.

It was my dream. Aside from my joy of baking creative new pastries, I loved my coffee. One might describe me as an addict, but there was nothing wrong with knowing the quality of beans and how to use them in ways that could be described as a work of art.

I made my own stencils and created fun, creative design toppers. I couldn’t wait to explore my potential in the business world.

Already, I have spent my time baking and donating all my food and earnings to food shelters and organizations that my mother was involved with.

During the Christmas season, my mother and I worked twice as hard to bring joy to the underprivileged and unhoused people of the city. Every single person on the Christmas hamper sign-up list not only received a full food basket from us, but I also made hundreds of small, colourful cakes and danishes.

Word of mouth grew so big that we would receive over a thousand applicants every year, but Mum and I were always up for the challenge.

You’re probably wondering why my mother became so invested in helping the needy. It’s because, when she was a teen, she bounced around from shelter to shelter and, at times, slept under one of our city's bridges.

My mother was born in poverty, alongside three older brothers. Her father was a labourer half the time, and the other half, he spent drinking their money away. Her brothers weren’t much better. For years, my mum watched as her mother became smaller and smaller under the oppression of her abusive father and disrespectful sons. She wouldn’t accept that as her life, so one day, she left.

Living on the streets was hard, but in many ways, it was easier than being with her family.

Living this life, seeing the hardships and realizing the gaps between society's presence, support and awareness, my mother had an idea.

It started as a way to create jobs for her and a few friends she had made along the way—a way for them to earn money and share a small apartment safely.

They created a small business, unofficially, of course. They offered yard work, cleaning services and ran errands for the wealthy. Their fees were small, but their hard work was beginning to be recognized.

Slowly, my mother began to increase the fees and started to recruit a few more people off the streets. Little by little, my mother developed a business, offering services to people who didn’t appreciate the value of the dollars they carelessly spent.

One rented house to host them became two, then three and then four.

Little by little, my mother's empire began to form.

Sure, there were a few rotten eggs and some negative feedback, but my mother was able to smooth things over quickly with her charisma and the strength of her word.

Evelyn Ricard became a staple name. People from shelters began to seek her out for their own opportunities to rise from the dirt and get back on their feet.

If I were wagering a guess, I would say about half of the people my mother employs were once homeless or below the poverty line. She rarely looks at established or financially secure applicants when she recruits. She started this business to help those in need, and she has remained true to that purpose for over twenty years.

Two of the three friends with whom my mother started this adventure are still just as heavily involved in the business as my mother was. That tells you something. The third friend focused on his studies and became my mother's leading attorney. Peter Larson. Every one of them is a living example that you can always become something more if you work hard enough.

I know my mum hoped that I would follow her path, but I loved baking, and I still planned to be involved, just in a different way.

I wanted to join a school breakfast club for kids. I researched it and knew all the stats before I pitched the idea to my mum. She right away, supported it. I loved the idea of helping those who needed it, while still pursuing my dream.

It was David who wanted to take the lead of the empire.

David was my step-brother.

It is a funny relationship, David and us. My mother had only been married to his father for a few months before she discovered the real reason Benjamin Walker, David's father, had pursued her so intently.

Money.

He aimed to steal her fortune, and when she rejected him, she saw something in David and offered him a better future.

He took, and we’ve been close ever since.

It was initially weird adjusting to the idea of having a brother, but these last four years have been the best. It was like having a permanent best friend who also acted like a bodyguard.

No one got close to mum and I when David was around. He took his role of man of the house seriously, and it was nice to feel protected.

If it weren’t for David, I would never have met my fiancé, Liam.

When David agreed to stay with us, Mum found out that Benjamin had gambled away David's college fund, and he had to leave halfway through his second year of business studies.

So she paid for it.

While in school, I got to know Liam, David's dormmate.

He was polished, spoiled and arrogant, but like with all those cheesy romance novels, I saw a way to help him become humbler in life.

Slowly, we developed a romantic relationship, and when he asked me to marry him three months ago, I said, Yes, but only after I graduated.

“Earth to Rio,” my mother's voice pulls me from my thoughts again.

“Go set the table, David and Liam will be here soon,” she shoos me from the kitchen with a smirk on her flawless face.

“You know, they aren’t guests, right? At this point, their furniture sometimes gets up and moves around.” I roll my eyes at her attempt to make everything perfect.

“Oh, hush you. Go set the table before I ration your share of the meatballs,” her playful threat wounds me.

I narrow my eyes and huff. “Fine, but I got one of each of theirs added to mine. I’m doing all the work anyway.”

The sound of my mother's laughter follows me.