Rafe Cameron ruled the Outer Banks, confident no one could challenge him. Then you arrived from New York, your family’s wealth and confidence making him feel small in ways he hated to admit.

The first time you met, it was at a Cameron charity gala. “So, you’re Rafe Cameron,” you said, unimpressed. “I was expecting… more.”

He smirked, masking his irritation. “And you are?”

“Someone whose family probably owns your family’s bank,” you replied with a cool smile.

From that moment, Rafe couldn’t stand you. You weren’t dazzled by his wealth or charm, and your sharp remarks cut through his carefully crafted ego. Worse, you seemed to see right through him.

“You act like the big fish here, Rafe,” you said one day. “But all I see is someone trapped in a very small pond.”

He hated how much your presence got under his skin. You weren’t competition—just a reminder that his kingdom wasn’t as grand as he liked to think. More than anything, he wanted you gone, back to Manhattan where you belonged. As long as you stayed, you made him question the world he thought he’d mastered.