Marcus Kane - The Street Rat husband : An Hidden God

Chapter 4

The email arrived at seven in the morning.

Quinn was sitting at the kitchen counter in the small apartment, still wearing last night's clothes, her hair loose around her shoulders, a cup of tea going cold beside her laptop. She had been awake since four, drafting a plan to salvage her position at Sterling Corporation, building arguments she could present to the board, rehearsing conversations in her head with people who might still listen to her.

The subject line read: Termination of Employment, Effective Immediately.

She opened it. Read it twice. Then closed the laptop with both hands, slowly, the way you close a door on a room you know you'll never enter again.

Marcus came out of the hallway wearing the same wrinkled shirt. He had slept on the couch without being asked, without making it a conversation. He saw Quinn's face and stopped in the doorway.

"What happened?"

"I've been fired." Her voice was steady. Almost bored. Like she was reading a weather report about a city she didn't live in. "Effective immediately. No severance. No notice period. My access to the building has been revoked and my company email has been deactivated."

She picked up her tea, took a sip, and set it back down. The cup didn't shake. Her hands didn't tremble. She had locked everything down so tight there was nothing left on the surface for anyone to read.

"Alexander did this," Marcus told her. Not a question.

"Of course Alexander did this. I managed the Langford project for nine months. I built every relationship, negotiated every clause, stayed up until three in the morning fixing problems that nobody else in that company could even understand." She paused. "And now he's taken it. All of it. Because you broke his wrist."

The words landed between them like a stone dropped into still water.

Marcus walked to the counter and stood across from her. "I hit him because he deserved it. I'd do it again."

"And look where it got us." Quinn finally looked at him, and there it was, the cold fury she kept folded up behind her ribs like a blade in a sheath. "I told you these people are dangerous. You don't fight the Sterlings with your fists, Marcus. They don't bruise. They don't bleed. They just take everything you have and smile while they do it."

"I'll handle it. Let me talk to Alexander."

Quinn stood up so fast her chair scraped across the floor. "No. Absolutely not. You will not go near Alexander. You will not call him, you will not text him, you will not show up at his office or his house or anywhere he might be."

"Quinn."

"He will kill you." Her voice cracked on the last word, just barely, just enough to let something real slip through before she caught it and sealed it back up. "You don't know what that family is capable of. You think breaking his wrist was a victory? It was a death sentence. Alexander doesn't forget, and Victor doesn't forgive, and if you give them a reason to come after you, they will bury you in a hole so deep nobody will ever find you."

Marcus watched her. She was breathing hard now, her chest rising and falling in quick, sharp movements, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides even though she probably didn't know it.

She was afraid. Not for herself. For him.

Something warm moved through his chest, quiet and unexpected, like sunlight falling across a cold floor.

"My parents can't know about this," Quinn continued, pulling herself back together piece by piece. "If my mother finds out you hit Alexander, she'll throw you out of the house. Not because she's cruel, but because she's terrified. She knows what Victor can do. She's seen it. And if my father finds out I've lost my job, it will break him. He's already in that wheelchair because of the stress this family has put on him. I won't be the one who finishes him off."

She sat back down. Opened her laptop. Started typing.

"What are you doing?" Marcus asked.

"Updating my resume." She didn't look up. "I'll find another job. A real one, at a company where my last name isn't a weapon someone can use against me. I've done it before and I'll do it again."

Her fingers moved across the keyboard with the steady, mechanical focus of someone who had taught herself a long time ago that falling apart was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Marcus stood there for a moment longer, watching her, and then he walked into the hallway. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the old one, the one that wasn't registered under Marcus Cole or any other name the Sterlings might trace.

He typed a message. Three sentences. Sent it to a number with no name attached.

Then he deleted the message, put the phone back in his pocket, and went to make Quinn a fresh cup of tea.

Across town, Alexander Sterling walked into the lobby of the Voss Group headquarters like he owned the building.

His right wrist was wrapped in a cast and cradled in a black sling, but his suit was pressed, his shoes were polished, and he carried a leather briefcase in his left hand that contained every document Quinn had prepared for the Langford contract. He had spent the morning reviewing her work, her notes, her proposals, her carefully structured timeline, and he had to admit, grudgingly, that the woman was thorough.

Not that it mattered. The work was his now. The credit would be his. And when Dominic Voss signed on the dotted line, it would be Alexander Sterling's name on the deal, not Quinn's.

He approached the reception desk with a smile that could have sold sunscreen in a blizzard.

"Alexander Sterling, Sterling Corporation. I'm here to see Mr. Voss regarding the Langford Industries partnership. I believe we have a meeting on the books."

The receptionist, a young woman with glasses and a tight ponytail, checked her screen. Checked it again. Looked up at him with the polite blankness of someone delivering news she already knew he wouldn't like.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Voss has a standing instruction regarding this account. He will only meet with Quinn Sterling. No exceptions."

Alexander's smile didn't move, but something behind it went rigid. "There's been a change in personnel. Quinn is no longer handling this account. I've taken over. If you could just let Mr. Voss know I'm here, I'm sure we can sort this out."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. The instruction is very specific. Quinn Sterling only."

"Listen to me." Alexander leaned forward and placed his good hand flat on the desk. "I am the eldest grandson of Sebastian Sterling. My family built the deal that's sitting on your boss's desk. Quinn was just the messenger. The errand girl. She carried the papers back and forth, and now I'm here to close what she started. So pick up that phone and tell your boss that a real Sterling is here to finish the job."

The receptionist didn't blink. "I'll call upstairs, sir. But I can't guarantee Mr. Voss will agree to see you."

She dialled. Spoke quietly. Listened. Hung up.

"Mr. Voss is coming down."

Alexander straightened his tie and smiled. Of course he was coming down. The deal was worth forty million. No businessman alive would turn that away over a name on a meeting request.

The elevator doors opened. Dominic Voss stepped out.

He was shorter than Alexander expected. Mid fifties, stocky, with thick grey eyebrows and a face that looked like it had been carved out of something hard and left in the rain for forty years. He wore no tie. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He looked like a man who had built his empire with his hands and had no interest in pretending otherwise.

He walked straight to Alexander and stopped three feet away.

"You're the grandson?"

"Alexander Sterling. A pleasure, Mr. Voss. I'm here to finalize the Langford partnership and I've brought all the relevant documentation. If we could step into your office, I'm confident we can have this wrapped up within the hour."

Dominic looked at the briefcase. Looked at the cast on Alexander's wrist. Looked at Alexander's face with the slow, measuring gaze of a man who had been lied to by experts and had stopped finding it interesting a long time ago.

"I built this company from a single warehouse and a phone that only worked half the time," Dominic began, his voice low and unhurried. "Thirty years, no partners, no investors, no family money. You know how I did it? By working with people I trust. People who show up, do the work, and don't play games behind each other's backs."

He took one step closer.

"Quinn Sterling is the only person from your family who has ever sat across my desk and told me the truth. She didn't try to impress me. She didn't flatter me. She showed me numbers that were real and a plan that made sense, and she looked me in the eye when she did it. That's why I agreed to this deal. Not because of your grandfather's name. Not because of your family's money. Because of her."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Mr. Voss, with all due respect, Quinn is no longer with the company. I'm fully briefed on every aspect of the project and I can assure you the transition will be seamless."

"I don't care." Dominic turned to the security desk and nodded once. "Quinn Sterling is my contact. If she's not involved, there is no deal. And if you show up at my building again without her, I'll have you removed before you make it past the lobby."

Two security guards appeared at Alexander's sides.

"Mr. Voss, this is a forty million dollar contract. You can't seriously be willing to throw that away over one person."

"Watch me." Dominic turned his back and walked toward the elevator. "Get him out of my building."

The guards took Alexander by the arms. He tried to shake them off, but one of them gripped his injured wrist just hard enough to send a bolt of white pain shooting up to his shoulder, and his knees almost buckled.

They walked him through the lobby. Past the receptionist who didn't look up. Past the glass doors that caught his reflection, a man in a pressed suit with a cast on his arm and fury eating through his chest like acid.

They let go of him on the sidewalk.