Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Sterling
Arthur Sterling came sprinting through the doors so fast he nearly tripped over his own Italian loafers. His silk tie was half-undone, his face was the shade of curdled milk, and beads of sweat were actively pouring down his forehead.
"Dad!" Julian called out, smiling with triumphant relief. "Perfect timing! This bum just walked into our party and threatened to destroy the company. Call the cops and get him—"
SLAP.
The sound cracked across the patio louder than Clara’s splash.
Julian stumbled sideways, his hand flying to his left cheek where a fiery red handprint was already blooming. His phone flew from his grip, bouncing twice on the limestone before sliding into the deep end of the pool with a muffled bloop.
"Dad?!" Julian gasped, his voice squeaking. "What the hell did you just do?!"
Arthur was hyperventilating, his chest heaving under his tailored shirt. He didn't even glance at his son. Instead, he dropped straight to his knees on the damp marble, bowing his head until his forehead almost touched the silver-bearded man’s polished leather shoes.
"Mr. Vance," Arthur choked out, his voice cracking like dry wood. "Sir. Please. I had no idea. I swear to God on my life, I didn't know your family was here tonight."
The silence on the patio was now absolute suffocating terror.
Julian stared at his father on his knees. Arthur Sterling—the man who bought politicians, the man who bullied rival firms out of the state, the man Julian thought was an untouchable god—was groveling on the floor like a dog.
"Mr. Vance?" Julian whispered, the name echoing in his head.
Then the puzzle pieces slammed together with brutal force.
Vance Maritime & Global Logistics. The private sovereign-level conglomerate that held the debt on Sterling Development’s entire commercial portfolio. The shadow billionaire who never appeared in Forbes because he owned the banks that financed Forbes.
Clara Vance.
Clara hadn't used a fake last name on her application. She had simply applied under her mother's maiden name, Clara Ross Vance, and Julian’s HR department had been too arrogant to run a comprehensive background check on an architecture intern.
"Arthur," Mr. Vance said quietly, looking down at the kneeling man. "Your boy pushed my Clara into the water."
"I... I will kill him with my bare hands, sir," Arthur wheezed, tears of pure terror welling in his eyes. "Tell me what to do. Anything. Please don't call the bank."
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Mr. Vance didn't look at Arthur. He kept his gaze locked onto Julian, whose face had gone from bright red to the color of ash.
"Julian," Mr. Vance said softly. "You wanted to record something funny tonight, didn't you?"
