Marcus Kane - The Street Rat husband : An Hidden God

Chapter 5

Sebastian Sterling arrived at Victor's house at half past six in the evening, unannounced, the way he always arrived, because a man who built an empire doesn't knock on doors he paid for.

Victor met him in the foyer with a glass of scotch already poured. Alexander was in the study, his broken wrist propped on a cushion, scrolling through emails with his good hand and pretending to look busy.

Sebastian walked past Victor without taking the drink and went straight to the study. He sat down in the leather chair across from Alexander and placed both hands on the head of his cane.

"The Voss contract. Where do we stand?"

Alexander didn't look up from his phone right away. He needed the extra second to arrange his face, to smooth out the humiliation and the rage and replace them with something that looked like confidence.

"I went to Voss Group this afternoon. Met with the receptionist, spoke to Mr. Voss's office. He was tied up in meetings all day, some internal restructuring issue, but his secretary confirmed a follow up for tomorrow morning."

The lie came out clean. Practiced. He had rehearsed it in the car on the way back from being thrown out of the building, running the words over and over in his mouth until they tasted like truth.

Sebastian studied his grandson the way a jeweller studies a stone, looking for the flaw he knows is there.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Nine o'clock sharp. I'll have the full proposal ready, along with the revised timeline Quinn drafted before her departure. Everything is in order, Grandfather."

Sebastian was quiet for a long time. The clock on the wall ticked. Victor stood in the doorway holding two glasses of scotch that nobody wanted.

"Let me be very clear about something, Alexander." Sebastian's voice dropped to the register he used when he wanted people to remember that he had destroyed careers and families and entire companies without ever raising his hand. "This contract is worth forty million dollars. It represents the single largest partnership in Sterling Corporation's history. I have staked my reputation on its success. I have made promises to people whose names you are not important enough to know."

He leaned forward.

"If this deal falls through, if it stumbles, if it so much as wobbles because of your incompetence, I will not blame Dominic Voss. I will not blame the market. I will not blame bad luck or bad timing." His eyes locked onto Alexander's. "I will blame you. And when I blame someone, Alexander, I don't shout. I don't threaten. I simply remove them from my life as though they never existed. Ask your Aunt Patricia. Ask your cousin Raymond. Ask anyone whose name used to be on the family trust and isn't anymore."

Alexander's throat moved.

"Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

Sebastian stood, adjusted his coat, and walked out of the study without another word. He passed Victor in the doorway, took one of the scotch glasses without looking at him, drained it in a single swallow, and set the empty glass on the foyer table.

The front door closed behind him.

Victor waited until the sound of Sebastian's car pulling out of the driveway faded into the evening, and then he turned on his son with a fury that had been building since the moment Alexander walked through the door that afternoon with his tail between his legs.

"He was busy?" Victor's voice was low and shaking. "Tied up in meetings? Internal restructuring?"

Alexander set his phone down. "What was I supposed to tell him? That Voss had me dragged out of his building by two security guards who squeezed my broken wrist like they were juicing a lemon?"

"I told you." Victor crossed the room in three strides and stood over his son. "I told you to wait. I told you the timing had to be perfect. The contract first, then we deal with Quinn. That was the plan. Simple. Clean. Foolproof. And what did you do?"

Alexander's jaw tightened. "She deserved it. After what her psychotic husband did to me, she deserved every bit of it."

"She deserved it." Victor repeated the words like they tasted rotten. "Your pride got bruised, so you fired the only person Dominic Voss trusts, the only person who can close the biggest deal this family has ever seen, and now we're standing here with our hands empty because you couldn't keep your wounded little ego in check for eleven more days."

"He broke my wrist, Father."

"And you broke our leverage!" Victor slammed his palm on the desk. The scotch glass rattled. "Voss won't deal with anyone but Quinn. You know that now. I know that now. The only person who doesn't know that is your grandfather, and when he finds out, and he will find out, he won't take your wrist. He'll take your name. He'll cut you out of the family like a tumour and he won't lose a minute of sleep over it."

The study went quiet. Alexander stared at the surface of the desk where his father's handprint was still visible, and for the first time since the courtyard, he looked scared.

"So what do we do?"

Victor walked to the window and looked out at the manicured lawn, at the fountain, at the row of imported cars in the driveway. Everything his father had given him. Everything that could be taken back with a single phone call.

"We bring her back."

"Bring her back? After I fired her? After I told HR to blacklist her from every Sterling subsidiary in the state? After I sent her a termination letter that called her performance substandard and her conduct unprofessional?" Alexander laughed, and it was an ugly, hollow sound. "She'll spit in my face."

"Then you'll wipe it off and say thank you." Victor turned from the window. "I don't care what you have to say to her. I don't care if you have to get on your knees and beg. You created this mess, and you will fix it. We need Quinn back at that negotiating table before your grandfather finds out that Dominic Voss won't even let us through the front door."

"She won't come willingly. You know how she is. Cold. Stubborn. That woman holds a grudge the way a dog holds a bone, and she has every reason to let us drown."

"Then we offer her something she can't refuse. Her job back, full salary, a public apology if that's what it takes. And if she still says no, we remind her what happens to people who turn their backs on this family." Victor grabbed his car keys from the desk. "Get your coat. We're going now."

Alexander stood, wincing as the movement jolted his wrist. "Going where? It's almost seven. She's probably at her parents' house crying into a pillow."

"She's not at her parents' house. She's at that apartment in the eastern district, the one her new husband arranged. I had someone check this afternoon." Victor was already walking toward the door. "And Quinn Sterling doesn't cry into pillows. That's what makes her dangerous and useful at the same time."

They took Victor's black Mercedes. Alexander sat in the passenger seat with his cast resting on his knee, watching the city change through the window as they drove east. The buildings got shorter. The streets got narrower. The cars parked along the curbs got older and dirtier and closer together.

"This is where she lives now?" Alexander looked out at a row of apartment buildings with peeling paint and rusted fire escapes. "This is where the great Quinn Sterling ended up? In a neighbourhood that smells like fried oil and failure?"

"This is where you put her," Victor corrected, his eyes on the road. "Remember that when we walk through that door. Every word out of your mouth needs to be honey, not acid. We're not here to punish her. We're here to bring back the only person who can save our necks."

Alexander leaned back in his seat and said nothing.

Victor parked the car in front of a three storey building with a buzzing light above the entrance and chipped paint on every surface. He turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, looking up at the building with the expression of a man about to do something that disgusted him.

"Smile," he told his son. "And try to look like you mean it."