Chapter 2: The Wrath of a Billionaire
Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.
The name Arthur Sterling wasn't just famous; it was an institution. He was the ruthless patriarch of the Sterling Empire, a man who controlled real estate, shipping lines, and banks across three continents. And this god amongst men was currently kneeling on the gravy-stained carpet of the Whitmore dining room, looking at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.
"Granddaughter?" Greg’s voice trembled. He stepped forward, his face pale, the arrogant sneer wiped completely from his features. "Mr. Sterling, there must be a mistake. She's… she's just an orphan. We took her in."
Arthur Sterling slowly stood up. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a glacial fury that made the temperature in the room drop. He didn't look like an elderly man anymore; he looked like a predator.
He turned his gaze to my husband. "You took her in?" Arthur’s voice was dangerously quiet. "You married my flesh and blood, and you allowed this… this creature," he pointed a gold-tipped cane directly at Brenda, "to strike her?"
Brenda was shaking so hard her pearl necklace rattled. "I-I didn't know! She ruined the tablecloth! It’s vintage silk, I just—"
"Silence!"
The roar echoed through the house, rattling the crystal glasses on the Thanksgiving table. Two of the massive security guards in black suits instantly stepped forward, their hands resting ominously on their holsters.
Arthur turned back to me. He gently reached out and cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "My sweet girl. You have your mother's eyes. I have searched for you for twenty-two years. Ever since that terrible accident... I thought I had lost you forever."
I clutched my swollen belly, the pain in my back momentarily forgotten. "My mother? You knew her?"
"She was my only child, Evangeline," he said softly, tears pooling in his fierce eyes. "And you are my only remaining family. Which means," he straightened his back, turning to face the terrified crowd of Whitmore relatives, "you are the sole heiress to a two-hundred-billion-dollar empire."
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Several aunts and uncles took unconscious steps backward.
Greg’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Suddenly, his self-preservation instincts kicked in. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees right beside the gravy spill. "Maya, honey, baby, please! You know I love you! My mother just lost her temper. We are a family! You're carrying my child!"
I looked down at the man I had served and loved for three years. The man who, not five minutes ago, told me to eat off the floor.
"You didn't look like a husband when your mother slapped me, Greg," I whispered, my voice finally finding its strength. "You looked away."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed into slits. He snapped his fingers. Immediately, a tall, striking man in a bespoke navy suit stepped through the front door. This was Alexander, Arthur’s right-hand man and chief legal counsel.
"Mr. Sterling?" Alexander asked, his sharp eyes surveying the chaotic scene with mild disgust.
"Alexander," Arthur commanded without looking away from Greg. "I want Whitmore Enterprises audited. I want their supply chains cut, their bank loans called in, and their stocks shorted. I want them bankrupt before the sun rises tomorrow."
"No!" Brenda shrieked, falling to her knees next to her son. "You can't do this! We are a prominent family! We have connections!"
Alexander smirked, adjusting his glasses. "Consider it done, sir. It shouldn't take more than an hour. Their 'prominent' company is heavily leveraged anyway."
"Grandfather..." I whispered the word hesitantly. It felt strange on my tongue. "My back. It hurts."
Instantly, Arthur was by my side, supporting my weight. "Get the medical team ready in the Bentley," he barked at the guards. "We are leaving."
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As two female paramedics, who had been waiting outside, rushed in with a wheelchair, I looked back one last time. Greg was sobbing, clawing at the carpet, begging for me to stay. Brenda was paralyzed, staring at the broken pieces of my locket on the floor.
I didn't say a word. I simply let myself be wheeled out of the prison I once called home, stepping into the flashing lights of a convoy that was about to take me to a world I never knew existed.
