Marcus Kane - The Street Rat husband : An Hidden God

Chapter 9: Meet up

Inside the Sterling Corporation skyscraper, tension crept through every corner of the executive floor like an electric current ready to explode at any moment.

Quinn Sterling had not given a single response. No calls, no emails, and no sign that the woman would come to surrender herself to her uncle’s or cousin’s office.

Brak!

A bundle of financial reports fifty pages thick was slammed onto the glass table, producing a loud echoing impact.

Victor Sterling stood behind his desk, his breath coming in short bursts.

"Two days, Alexander!" Victor’s voice rumbled low, pressing against the air in the room. "Twenty-four hours left before Edwin’s treatment deadline, and your cousin hasn’t even blinked!"

Alexander Sterling, who was sitting on the leather sofa across the desk, flinched slightly. His healthy left hand reflexively gripped the edge of the black cast wrapped around his right arm.

"That bitch is deliberately stalling, Father," Alexander replied irritably. "She knows we’re racing against the deadline set by Grandfather."

"And you’re just sitting there tapping that damn cast of yours?" Victor strode quickly around the desk, approaching his son with a sharp glare.

Alexander lowered his head, avoiding his father’s direct gaze.

"You’re not helping at all!" Victor barked again. His palm pointed straight at Alexander’s face. "If only you hadn’t acted arrogantly toward Dominic Voss that afternoon, we wouldn’t be begging a discarded niece!"

"I just wanted to assert our position as the true Sterlings!" Alexander defended himself, his voice rising an octave.

"A true Sterling wouldn’t be thrown out by security from his own business partner’s building!" Victor cut him off mercilessly. "Your grandfather called me three times this morning. He’s asking about the progress of the Voss contract signature!"

Alexander clenched his left hand tightly until his knuckles turned white. Guilt struck his chest like a heavy hammer, making his throat feel blocked and dry.

"If by tomorrow noon that forty-million-dollar contract slips to another company," Victor grabbed Alexander’s suit collar, forcing his son to look up, "it won’t just be your name that gets crossed off Sebastian Sterling’s inheritance list. I’ll personally make sure you kick your way out of this city!"

Victor released his grip with a rough shove, sending Alexander back against the sofa.

Victor turned around, walking toward the large window overlooking the city, his back facing his son.

Alexander straightened his suit collar with trembling hands.

Quinn.

This is all because of that bitch Quinn!

Alexander’s teeth ground hard enough to make his temples throb painfully.

***

On the other side of Eastmere, a very different scene unfolded inside a top-floor private suite of a five-star hotel.

Marcus Kane stood upright near the inner balcony railing, both hands buried in the pockets of his dark trousers. His black shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing the firm lines of his arm muscles.

Behind him, a well-built man with a neat military haircut stood in perfect posture. The man wore a dark gray suit.

Callum. The highest general of the Eastern region, his right hand, and the only friend who knew the full bloody history of the God of War.

"All information channels in Eastmere are now under our surveillance." Callum spoke.

Marcus did not turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the darkness of the night. "Good. Keep monitoring the movements of the Sterling family."

Callum nodded as he slowly closed his leather folder.

He looked at the broad back of the man before him with eyes that carried curiosity he had been holding back for days.

"May I ask a personal question?"

Marcus only gave a small silent nod.

"Why are you so interested in Quinn Sterling?" Callum folded his arms across his chest. "You are the God of War of the East. You could have any woman from the highest noble bloodlines in the world. But why would you—"

Callum paused, staring at Marcus’s side profile illuminated by the city lights.

"Why would you be willing to use a false name, live in a cramped suffocating apartment, and get involved in an ordinary family power struggle like the Sterling Group just to protect her?"

Marcus’s face did not change at all. His expression remained cold, indifferent, as if Callum’s question was nothing more than a passing night breeze without meaning.

"That’s none of your business, Callum," Marcus answered shortly. His tone shut down any room for further debate.

Callum let out a long breath, fully aware that once the God of War sealed his lips, no force in this world could make him speak.

"Alright, I’ll probably find out sooner or later," Callum reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a small device. "But there’s something else you need to know."

Marcus slowly turned his body, looking at Callum with a pair of dark, emotionless eyes.

"Lord Kane... your father," Callum corrected himself when he saw the cold flash in Marcus’s eyes. "His condition has deteriorated drastically over the past few days. The elders of the Kane family are starting to panic."

Marcus only responded with a faint, cynical snort.

"The old man has even issued an official decree," Callum continued with a serious expression. "He declared that he is willing to hand over all power, assets, and the territory of Thornwall to anyone who can find your whereabouts and bring you back to his side before it’s too late."

"All of Thornwall?" Marcus walked toward the small glass table, picking up a silver lighter and lighting a cigarette between his fingers.

He took a long drag, letting the gray smoke slowly billow out from his nose and mouth, blurring the sharpness of his gaze.

"The power he once used to throw a fifteen-year-old child onto the streets?" Marcus twisted the words with a bored tone.

"Tell him I’m not interested in the graveyard he calls a kingdom. Let him rot with all that damn wealth," he continued.

Callum nodded firmly. He knew very well that Marcus’s past wounds were not something that could be healed with a piece of inheritance paper.

"So what’s our move for tomorrow morning?" Callum asked, returning to his professional stance as an assistant. "The seventy-two-hour deadline for Edwin Sterling will expire tomorrow noon. Mrs. Quinn is currently still searching for job openings across nearly all company portals."

Marcus extinguished his cigarette into the crystal ashtray with a firm press of his finger. The last of the smoke dissipated.

"Victor is boycotting every job application Quinn sends across the entire Eastmere region," Marcus said, his voice growing colder. "He wants to make sure not a single door opens for his niece, so Quinn has no choice but to crawl back to his feet."

Marcus stepped closer to Callum, looking straight into the general’s eyes.

"Use all my personal resources," Marcus ordered. "Don’t touch the Voss contract. That contract is too small and meaningless."

Callum opened his device, ready to record every word from his superior.

"Find an offer from a company with a scale far greater than Voss or Sterling," Marcus narrowed his eyes, his face still expressionless. "Make sure those Sterling bastards choke on rotten fruit."

Callum pulled the corner of his lips slightly, nodding with respect.

"Order received, Young Master. Everything will be finished before dawn breaks."