You didn’t care about titles.

Or legacy.

Or the weight of a name that had carried influence through decades.

Tripp van der Bilt was used to people bending, nodding, agreeing. The Upper East Side bowed to him, the press praised him, and even his colleagues tread lightly.

Then he met you.

The first time, it was at a charity board meeting. Tripp was midway through a speech about the importance of leadership, the power of legacy, when you interrupted—not rudely, but sharply, questioning his assumptions.

A hush fell over the room. Tripp blinked. Surprised. Off balance.

“Interesting point,” he said finally, voice smooth, controlled—but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Care to elaborate?”