Pierre-Édouard Stérin was born on January 3, 1974, in Évreux, into a family of the provincial petite bourgeoisie. His father is a chartered accountant, his mother a bank employee. Ambition is not a word used lightly in the family. However, young Pierre-Édouard quickly deviates from this family caution. As early as middle school, he sells computer components to wealthier classmates. Additionally, he sells homemade jam at markets. A modest gesture, but revealing of an early entrepreneurial spirit.
After higher education at the Sorbonne, then at EM Lyon, he briefly joins Société Générale, one of the main French banks. This stint in investment banking resembles a dead end. He slams the door in 1998, tired of a world he deems sterile. He then experiences a series of entrepreneurial failures, unfinished attempts, sleepless nights. Yet, he does not give up. This resilience will mark his entire future trajectory.
Smartbox, the commercial consecration
The turning point comes in 2003. He meets Belgian Philippe Deneef, who introduces him to an idea from the North: gift boxes. Together, they launch the concept in France, in a still untapped market. But the nascent success encounters administrative hurdles: their business model is reclassified as a travel agency activity, which would require a license.
The legal battle lasts 18 months. The tension is palpable. Stérin, calm but determined, leads the fight. Eventually, he is acquitted. This verdict sets a precedent and paves the way for specific regulations on packaged leisure products. Behind the scenes, he is already gaining ground.
By 2006, Smartbox conquers Europe. In 2007, he becomes the majority shareholder. Revenue climbs. But Stérin remains cautious. In 2013, he leaves operational management, while retaining a significant share of the capital. He then relocates the headquarters to Ireland, taking advantage of a more favorable tax regime for businesses. He attempts to sell Smartbox to Wonderbox, without success. An episode revealing his high standards: he will sell, but not to just anyone.
Otium, venture capital and a sense of purpose
In 2009, he launches Otium Capital, a family office intended to reinvest the fruits of his success. The ambition is no longer solely financial. He becomes an investor-owner in dozens of high-potential French startups. Among them, LaFourchette, Payfit, Polène, My Jolie Candle. In 2024, Otium manages 1.6 billion euros in assets, placing it among the major players in independent private equity.
But Stérin does not want to be just another capitalist. In 2018, he creates the Common Good Fund, financed from his own resources. His goal is clear: to use his fortune to "positively transform society." He supports schools, heritage projects, inclusion initiatives like Café Joyeux. Most notably, he announces his intention to bequeath 100% of his wealth to this fund, a radical choice in the business world. His five children will not inherit it. This gesture fuels his legend and lays the foundations of a militant philanthro-capitalism.
The Belgian exile and the contours of a militant faith
In 2012, Pierre-Édouard Stérin moves to Lasne, in the chic suburbs of Brussels. He claims this move is a response to the confiscatory French tax on capital gains. However, he swears to donate the tax savings to French charities. The paradox is not lost on anyone, especially in the debate on French tax exiles.
In parallel, he embraces deep convictions. He defines himself as a libertarian, “right-wing anarchist”, fervent traditionalist Catholic. He speaks of sainthood as a personal goal. His faith manifests through concrete projects. For example, the Saint-Louis Academy is a non-coeducational, independent boarding school planned in Sologne. The institution, whose opening is announced for 2026, aims to train a new male elite. He dreams of making it an alternative educational model, replicable across the territory.
Confidential dinners and underground political ambitions
Since 2021, Stérin has taken a new step. He organizes discreet meetings with elected officials, intellectuals, rising figures of the French right. He never speaks publicly at these dinners but asks incisive questions. His role: that of a catalyst. He claims not to want to run for office, preferring to "prepare those who will govern tomorrow."
In 2024, he unveils Périclès, a plan endowed with 150 million euros over ten years. Its goal is to infuse conservative ideas into the cultural and political fabric. The project includes the creation of media, schools, training for political leaders. This ideological offensive stirs up controversy. A parliamentary inquiry into the financing of political life attempts to summon him. He refuses to appear but agrees to respond in the media. The affront is noted.
Media, influence, and red lines
Stérin knows that public opinion is also won on screens. He takes stakes in Neo, Le Crayon, Factuel, digital media targeting a young and politicized audience. He explores more ambitious acquisitions: Editis, Marianne, Valeurs actuelles. With each attempt, internal teams are alarmed. Some denounce a shadowy takeover. Others welcome a counterbalance to dominant media groups.
He rejects any far-right label. He describes himself as conservative, attached to the traditional family and opposed to abortion, but in favor of a peaceful democracy. Yet, his opponents see him as a financier of the identitarian right, influential but elusive. He maintains the ambiguity. And this allows him to move forward, without being directly attackable.
An assumed strategy, between philanthropy and politics
Pierre-Édouard Stérin no longer hides. He assumes his growing influence, which he wants discreet but structured. He has understood that political patronage lies at the intersection of donation and ideology. Thus, it could become a lever for social transformation. He speaks of the common good, but also poses a central question to our democracy: how far can a man influence public affairs without being elected?
His trajectory, between engaged capitalism, Catholic faith, and networks of influence, makes him a unique figure in the French landscape. The answer to this question, perhaps, is yet to be written. In the meantime, he forges his path. Off the beaten track. And without ever raising his voice.