Chapter 46: The Tyrant's Return

 

Sterling Corporation Headquarters. 8:55 AM.

The lobby was dead silent. Usually, at this hour, employees would be rushing to the elevators with coffee, chatting about the weekend. Today, they stood in two straight lines, heads bowed, terrified.

The automatic doors slid open. A gust of cold wind blew in, followed by the sound of rubber wheels on marble.

Sebastian Sterling entered. He had shaved. His jaw was smooth and sharp as a knife. He wore a black three-piece suit, tailored to hide his thin frame. His tie was black. His shirt was black. He looked like he was attending a funeral—his own.

Behind him walked Liam, pushing the wheelchair. Liam looked exhausted, like he had spent all night keeping a tiger in a cage.

Sebastian didn't look at anyone. His eyes, once warm and golden, were now dead voids. "You," he pointed a finger at the receptionist without stopping. "Your tie is crooked. You're fired."

The receptionist gasped. "Sir? I..."

"Get out," Sebastian said softly. "I don't tolerate sloppiness in my building."

He rolled past the sobbing man, straight to the executive elevator. The employees trembled. The rumors were true. The Golden Cat was dead. The Tyrant had returned.

---

[The Viper's Nest]

The Boardroom.

Victoria Vance sat at the head of the table—Sebastian's seat. She was checking her diamond watch. Harper sat to her right, tapping her pen rhythmically on the table.

"He's late," Victoria smirked. "Typical. Maybe he couldn't get his wheelchair up the ramp?"

Harper stopped tapping. She looked at Victoria coldly. "It's 8:59, Victoria. He has one minute."

Ding. The elevator doors opened. Sebastian rolled in.

He saw Victoria in his chair. Most people would ask her to move. Or get angry. Sebastian didn't say a word. He rolled his wheelchair right up to the head of the table, stopping inches from Victoria's knees.

He stared at her. He didn't blink. He didn't breathe. He just projected an aura of such intense, suffocating malice that the air in the room seemed to freeze.

Victoria’s smile faltered. She felt like a rabbit staring at a cobra. Unconsciously, she stood up and moved to the side.

Sebastian didn't say thank you. He locked the brakes of his wheelchair in place of the executive chair. "Let's begin."

"So," Victoria cleared her throat, trying to regain control. "We are here to discuss the... mental stability of the CEO. After the recent 'kidnapping incident', the board feels Mr. Sterling is not fit to lead."

She threw a file on the table. "We propose a vote of No Confidence. Mr. Sterling should step down and be replaced by an interim CEO appointed by Vance Capital."

Sebastian looked at the file. He didn't even open it. "You want to fire me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"It's for your own good, Sebastian," Victoria smiled fake-sympathetically. "You need rest. You need... therapy."

"I don't need therapy," Sebastian leaned forward. "I need competent partners. Not leeches."

"Watch your tone!" Victoria snapped. "We own your debt!"

"Vote," Sebastian said simply. He looked around the table. "Who agrees with her?"

Five directors raised their hands. They were Victoria’s people. Five directors kept their hands down. They were Sterling loyalists. It was a tie.

All eyes turned to Harper. She held the decisive 20% vote.

Victoria smiled. "Harper, darling. Do the right thing. He's broken. Let's put him out of his misery."

Sebastian looked at Harper. His expression was unreadable. He expected her to vote him out. Why wouldn't she? He had pushed her away. He had insulted her.

Harper stood up. She walked over to the window, looking at the city below.

"Sebastian is broken," Harper said clearly. "He is volatile. He is rude. And frankly, his management style is medieval."

Victoria grinned triumphantly. Sebastian’s knuckles turned white on his armrests.

"However," Harper turned around. Her eyes were hard as diamonds. "He is the only person in this room who knows how to build a nuclear engine from scratch."

She walked back to the table and placed her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. It was a possessive, heavy grip.

"Sterling Corp is not a democracy," Harper said. "It is a monarchy. And you don't fire a King just because he's wounded."

She looked at Victoria. "I vote No." "Sebastian stays."

Victoria’s face turned purple. "You foolish girl! You're letting your emotions ruin this deal!"

"No," Harper leaned down, whispering so only Sebastian and Victoria could hear. "I'm protecting my investment. A broken Sebastian is still worth more than ten healthy Victorias."

She patted Sebastian’s shoulder—a condescending, owner-like pat. "Get back to work, Mr. Sterling. Make me some money."

---

[The Elevator]

The meeting ended. Victoria stormed out. Harper and Sebastian were left alone in the elevator going down.

The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Don't think I'm grateful," Sebastian broke the silence, staring straight ahead at the metal doors.

"I don't want your gratitude," Harper replied, checking her phone. "I want your quarterly report on my desk by Friday."

"Why did you do it?" Sebastian turned his wheelchair to face her. "You had the chance to destroy me. To take the company. Why save me?"

Harper looked down at him. She saw the pain behind his rage. She saw the man who had crawled for her. She wanted to hug him. To tell him she loved him. But she couldn't. Not yet. He needed to find his own strength first.

"Because," Harper stepped closer, trapping him in the corner of the elevator. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear.

"Because I enjoy watching you struggle, Sebastian." "I enjoy watching you try to hate me." "And mostly..."

She reached out and straightened his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest for a split second. "Because you haven't paid your debt to me yet." "You promised to walk down the aisle. Until you fulfill that contract... you don't get to die."

Ding. The doors opened.

Harper stepped back, her mask of ice returning instantly. "Have a nice day, Mr. Sterling."

She walked out, her heels clicking rhythmically.

Sebastian sat in the elevator as the doors closed again. He touched his tie where she had touched him. His heart was pounding. A violent, angry, alive rhythm.

He looked at his reflection in the metal doors. For the first time in a month, the hollow look was gone. Replaced by a fire. A dark, obsessive fire.

"Fine," he whispered to the empty elevator. "You want a war, Harper? I'll give you a war."