"Ding—Welcome!" Two young men stepped into the Tesco convenience store near the university hospital. Both towered over 190 cm. One carried himself with handsome composure—striking and powerfully built—occasionally nodding in quiet exchange with his companion. The other was pure sunshine: eyes dancing, gestures animated, tone light and easy.
They were simply thirsty and wanted a bottle of mineral water. Heading straight for the shelves, they frowned at the sparse selection. Their usual brand was nowhere to be seen—only cheap-looking plastic bottles priced around £1. With reluctant shrugs, each grabbed one.
While they browsed, Sophie stood anxiously behind the counter, waiting for her colleague to return. Neither of them had gone to the bank that morning to break change. Three times already, customers had bought a single 80p bottle of purified water and paid with a £50 note. Now, the till was nearly out of small change. Her colleague had just rushed to the bank.
God, please—no more £50s, Sophie prayed silently.
Then, a crisp £50 note appeared, pinched between long, distinct-knuckled fingers. On the counter: two bottles of mineral water, £1 each.
Sophie's face flushed. She looked up at the customer—tall, broad, sharply chiseled features, expression cool and unyielding. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't have enough change. Could you pay by card or mobile scan?"
Ned and Archibald exchanged a glance. Neither had banking apps on their phones—nor credit cards. The only cash between them was £50 notes. They shook their heads at the cashier.
"Well, gentlemen, is there anything else you'd like? We have fresh sandwiches and coffee!" Sophie tried, smiling hopefully.
Ned's patience thinned at the memory of the sad sandwiches he'd glimpsed in the fridge. "A £50 could buy every sandwich in the store. How many do you want me to take?"
"No, sir, that's not—I didn't mean—" Sophie stammered, then steadied herself. "It's just that your note is too large; I can't break it. But the sandwiches and coffee really are good. Doctors and nurses from the hospital come by all the time. Patients' families grab them for lunch too."
Ned and Archibald's eyes drifted in unison to her name tag: Sophie Davies.
"No need for change, then," Ned said flatly. "The rest is your tip."
With that, the two picked up their water and turned to leave.
"Um, sirs—this little seating area has free filtered water," Sophie called after them, her voice shrinking with every word. "But you need your own cup… Do you, um… have one?"
Please don't think I'm trying to sell you a cup, she thought, cringing inside.
Archibald theatrically clapped a hand over his mouth, staring at Sophie. How dare this little thing keep chatting up the ice block Ned?
"No more sales pitches. Frankly, I don't even want this water. Goodbye." Ned's face was stone as he strode out of the store in long, impatient steps. Archibald shrugged and followed.
Clutching the crisp £50 note, Sophie dashed to the door. "Sir, sir, wait! Don't rush off—my colleague will be back any second…" But the blue Aston Martin had already roared onto the main road; she didn't even catch the plate. Dejected, she returned to the till, glared at the bill, fished two £1 coins from her own purse, and tossed them into the drawer. Next time I see that arrogant, rude jerk, I'll slap this money right in his face. Eyes on the ceiling, huh? Money makes you king?
In the passenger seat, Archibald smirked at Ned. "Still mad? Not worth it. That girl's got guts—managed a full sentence even after poking your frozen self." He twisted open a bottle and took a swig. "Pffft—bleach? This is poison. Don't drink it." He jammed both bottles into the door pocket, refusing to touch them again.
"You're really starting at Crown & Cipher tomorrow? General manager? We just graduated—let's take a few months off, travel, relax!" Archibald sprawled lazily, talking nonstop. "Shirts, suits, ties every day? Your family's loaded—you don't need to slave away this early. Even if you squandered for lifetimes, you couldn't dent the fortune. Lighten up! You're the only son; the heir is you. Why the rush?"
Ned's father, Jonathan Harrington, was Chairman of Harrington & Co. International and majority shareholder of Crown & Cipher. A KCVO, third-generation patriarch of the Harrington dynasty, and honorary alumnus of Trinity College, Cambridge in Economics, he had one son—Ned, the sole legitimate heir to the colossal empire.
"You should settle down too," Ned said earnestly. "Stop drifting. The young need experience. Families like ours can't escape it. If you don't want the legacy ruined in your hands, diligence is non-negotiable. Business is war—newbies and rookies have mountains to learn…"
"Alright, alright, alright, stop nagging already! Aren't you supposed to be the quiet type? How come you're going on and on about this like some old expert, sounding just like my dad!" Archibald rolled his eyes at him. "I hear my dad lecture me every single day—I'm sick of it. So spare me the sermon. Tomorrow, I'm not hanging out with you. I'm going to pick up some girls." He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts—Emily, Jessica, Chloe, Abigail…—deciding which one to ask out tomorrow.
Back at the convenience store, Sophie's coworker finally returned with change. "Sophie, I'm back! No customers while I was gone, right? Pretty good timing, huh?"
"Mm-hmm, nothing happened, everything's fine." Sophie didn't want to mention her earlier embarrassment and changed the subject: "Starting tomorrow, I'm going to work at Crown & Cipher. I'll be there full-time for this long break until university starts, then I'll switch to part-time. So I probably won't come to this store as often."
"Wow, you're actually going to work at a fancy five-star hotel like that? If I could get a job there, I'd even be willing to clean toilets!" Her coworker looked at Sophie with envy, then sighed dramatically. "It's just that my education is too low—I didn't even finish high school. I wouldn't qualify even as a cleaner. How did you manage to land this opportunity?"
"Uh? Oh—it's a friend of my mom's from a long time ago. They ran into each other on the street in London, and he recommended me for the job. I didn't even have an interview—they just told me to start tomorrow. I don't even know what I'll be doing!" Sophie didn't want to reveal too many details, so she kept it vague.
"You're so lucky! I'm so jealous. Why don't my parents have old friends like that?" The coworker raised her voice, then left the register to restock the shelves.
Sophie let out a quiet sigh of relief. Phew, good thing she didn't push to tag along to Crown & Cipher and try her luck—how would I have responded to that…?