AFTER THE DIVORCE, SHE FOUND OUT I'M A TRILLIONAIRE

Chapter 5: The March on Sterling Manor

The rain continued to fall over the Capital, washing the dark streets in a shimmering sheet of water.

Inside the private medical suite of the Sovereign Syndicate’s Capital headquarters, the air was warm and smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender. Soft, ambient light filled the room, a stark contrast to the dark, damp stone cells of the Sovereign Imperial Club where Lily had been trapped for four years.

Lily lay resting in a massive, king-sized bed covered in plush white silk sheets. A team of the world’s leading physicians and surgeons had spent the last two hours treating her physical injuries—tending to the bruises on her arms, checking her vitals, and ensuring her malnourished frame was nourished with intravenous fluids.

I sat quietly on a chair beside the bedside, my hands resting on my knees. My eyes never left her face. Even in her sleep, her small fingers clutched tightly onto the tarnished silver locket hanging around her neck—the only piece of home she had kept through years of captivity.

Scarlett stepped silently into the room, moving with the grace of a shadow. She stopped a few feet away, her hands neatly folded in front of her red power suit.

"Young Master," Scarlett whispered, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Lily. "The medical team reports that her physical condition is stabilizing. Aside from chronic exhaustion and minor trauma, she is going to recover fully. The best specialists from Zurich are flying in tonight to oversee her long-term care."

I nodded slowly, standing up from the chair and gently pulling the blanket higher over Lily’s shoulder.

"Double the security on this floor," I instructed quietly, walking toward the private balcony doors. "Nobody enters this wing without my direct authorization. If a fly tries to cross this threshold, deal with it."

"Understood, Sire," Scarlett replied firmly. "Every floor of this tower is now locked down by our elite security units. The Capital's local defense forces cannot even access our surveillance feeds."

I stepped out onto the glass-enclosed balcony, looking out over the sprawling, rain-drenched skyline of the Capital. Far in the distance, nestled against the foot of the misty mountains, sat the sprawling, heavily fortified estate of the Sterling Clan—a massive complex of traditional stone villas, private helipads, and high-security guard towers surrounded by twenty-foot concrete walls.

For four years, Lord Sterling had ruled that estate like an untouchable emperor, believing his wealth, his private army, and his connections to the Nine Great Clans made him immune to justice.

He didn't know that tonight was his final hour.

Duke Vance stepped out onto the balcony behind me, leaning heavily on his ebony walking stick. His old eyes followed my gaze toward the distant lights of Sterling Manor.

"Young Master," Duke Vance said gravely. "Our intelligence network has confirmed that Lord Sterling is fully aware of Dominic Darkwood's death. He has called an emergency assembly of the remaining clan leaders. Right now, over five hundred elite mercenaries and private soldiers are stationed inside Sterling Manor."

"Five hundred men," I said calmly, resting my hands on the glass railing. "Does he think numbers can stop a bulletproof glass wall?"

"They have heavy weaponry, automated security turrets, and three retired martial arts grandmasters guarding the inner gates," Duke Vance warned, though his voice carried zero fear—only fierce excitement. "Lord Sterling believes he can hold out until the rest of the Nine Great Clans mobilize their private militias to support him."

A cold, humorless smile touched my lips.

"The other eight clans are currently locked inside their own mansions, staring at their frozen bank accounts and panicking," I replied. "None of them are foolish enough to step out and fight a war they know they've already lost. Lord Sterling stands completely alone."

"Then we strike now?" Duke Vance asked, stepping forward.

"Yes," I turned away from the railing, my eyes burning with dark, unrelenting authority. "Assemble the entire tactical motorcade. Tell the heavy transport units to move out. We are paying a personal visit to Lord Sterling tonight."

Half an hour later, the courtyard of the Sovereign Syndicate’s Capital tower looked like a military staging ground.

Eighty heavy, matte-black armored vehicles idled in a massive, perfectly organized formation. Their powerful LED headlights cut through the heavy rain, casting bright white beams across the wet asphalt. Over four hundred elite operatives in tactical gear stood beside their vehicles, checking their equipment in absolute, disciplined silence. There was no shouting, no chatter—only the steady hum of powerful diesel engines and the rhythmic drum of falling rain.

I walked down the grand marble steps of the tower, pulling my black leather jacket tight against the cold wind. Scarlett and Duke Vance walked directly behind me.

When I stepped into the lead armored vehicle, the entire convoy surged to life.

Eighty heavy vehicles rolled out of the compound gates in a synchronized wave, turning onto the wide, multi-lane highway leading straight toward the Sterling Clan estate. Local traffic parted instantly; civilian drivers took one look at the heavily armored convoy bearing the golden dragon insignia and pulled their cars onto the shoulders, terrified to get anywhere near them.

Meanwhile, inside the fortified luxury of Sterling Manor, panic was reaching a fever pitch.

The grand banquet hall of the estate was brilliantly lit, but the atmosphere felt like a funeral. Crystal chandeliers vibrated slightly from the distant rumble of approaching thunder.

Lord Sterling sat at the head of a massive mahogany table. At seventy-five years old, his posture was still rigidly military. He wore a dark, gold-trimmed commander's uniform, his gray beard trimmed neatly, but his face was twisted in an ugly mask of rage and disbelief.

Around the table sat Julian Sterling and a dozen high-ranking family executives. Julian looked like a ghost—his clothes rumpled, his hair messy, and his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold a glass of water.

"Grandfather... you have to do something!" Julian stammered, his voice cracking with panic. "The Sovereign Syndicate froze every single corporate asset we own! Our family is completely wiped out! And now... now they killed Dominic Darkwood!"

"Shut your mouth, you worthless fool!" Lord Sterling roared, slamming his heavy fist onto the mahogany table.

The loud bang echoed through the silent hall, making several executives jump in their seats.

"For fifty years, the Sterling Family has stood at the absolute peak of the Capital!" Lord Sterling snarled, his eyes bulging with fury. "We control the trade routes, we control the banks, and we hold the secrets of the ancient bloodlines! Some punk calling himself the 'Sovereign Lord' thinks he can waltz into our city and destroy us?! I have five hundred armed men stationed around this estate! Even if he is a martial artist, nobody survives an artillery barrage!"

Just as Lord Sterling finished speaking, the heavy iron security doors at the front of the mansion rattled violently.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

An internal alarm bell began wailing through the hallways—a shrill, high-pitched screech that signaled a perimeter breach.

A terrified private guard burst through the double doors of the banquet hall, tripping over his own tactical boots and sprawling across the marble floor.

"L-Lord Sterling!" the guard shrieked, scrambling back onto his hands and knees. "We're under attack! The front gates... the front gates were blown apart by a single missile strike!"

Lord Sterling jumped out of his chair, his face turning pale. "Blown apart?! By what?!"

"An entire army!" the guard cried out, tears of terror streaming down his face. "Over eighty armored trucks! They just smashed through the perimeter wall! Our men didn't even have time to raise the barricades!"

Julian dropped his glass, staring at the doorway in absolute horror. "It's... it's Ethan... He actually came..."

"Ethan?!" Lord Sterling’s eyes narrowed into fierce, dangerous slits. "That ungrateful house-husband who survived our poison four years ago?! He dares to attack my manor?!"

Lord Sterling grabbed a heavy, gold-plated ceremonial assault rifle from a display rack on the wall, racking the bolt with trembling hands.

"Gather every single man we have!" Lord Sterling commanded furiously, marching toward the grand entrance hall. "If this bastard wants to die in my house, I will personally send him to hell to join his dead parents!"

Outside the main entrance of Sterling Manor, the scene looked like a war zone.

The massive, twenty-foot-tall wrought-iron front gates had been blasted completely off their hinges, twisted into smoking piles of scorched metal.

Our eighty armored vehicles rolled through the shattered gateway, forming a wide semicircle across the sprawling, manicured lawn. Floodlights mounted on the roofs of our trucks turned the rainy courtyard as bright as midday, illuminating the terrified faces of hundreds of Sterling Clan private guards who poured out of the main villa with rifles raised.

"HALT! DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE!" a commanding officer of the Sterling guards screamed into a megaphone from the second-floor balcony.

I stepped out of the lead armored vehicle, ignoring the rain soaking my clothes. Scarlett stepped out beside me, while Duke Vance remained inside the secure command vehicle overseeing the tactical perimeter.

I looked up at the balcony, my eyes locking onto the megaphone officer.

"You have thirty seconds to clear the courtyard," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the entire estate without needing a microphone. "Anyone who stays behind shares the fate of the Sterling Clan."

"Cocky little bastard!" the officer screamed. "FIRE! KILL THEM ALL!"

Dozens of guards opened fire simultaneously. A torrent of bullets rained down toward us.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even raise my hands.

Scarlett stepped forward, flicking her wrist twice. Two small magnetic disruption discs flew from her hand, attaching themselves to the ground in front of us.

ZAP!

A shimmering blue dome of electromagnetic energy erupted instantly, forming an impenetrable shield around our operatives. Every single bullet bounced harmlessly off the energy barrier, falling to the wet grass in a useless shower of lead.

The guards stopped shooting in sheer disbelief, staring at the glowing blue shield with wide, horrified eyes.

"My turn," I whispered.

I took one step forward, raised my right hand into the air, and brought it down in a sharp chopping motion.

BOOM!

A massive wave of internal energy swept across the courtyard like a hurricane.

The ground beneath the Sterling guards cracked and shattered. The shockwave hit the front stone staircase of the villa with the force of a falling meteor, blasting the heavy oak double doors inward in an explosion of splinters and dust.

The five hundred guards were blown backward off their feet, tumbling across the lawn in a chaotic heap of groaning bodies and dropped weapons.

The courtyard fell dead silent, save for the sound of falling rain.

I walked slowly up the shattered front steps, my leather boots clicking steadily against the broken stone. Scarlett walked two steps behind me, her eyes scanning every dark corner for threats.

As we reached the grand entrance hall, Lord Sterling stepped out from the hallway, his face twisted in rage. He held the gold-plated assault rifle with both hands, aiming the barrel directly at my chest.

"Ethan Rhys!" Lord Sterling roared, his voice trembling with a mixture of fury and deep-seated terror. "You arrogant little rat! You think you can destroy fifty years of the Sterling Family's legacy?!"

I stopped ten feet away from him, looking down at the old man with cold, unbothered eyes.

"Fifty years of stolen wealth, corruption, and murder," I said softly. "Lord Sterling, your time is up."

Lord Sterling’s finger tightened on the trigger. "Die!"