Now You Beg Me

Chapter 3. A Party on Paper-Thin Ground

“To the new Sterling Group.” Robert’s voice cut through the hum of conversation in the upper-floor ballroom.

He raised his champagne glass. “And of course… to cleaner air without parasites.”

The clink of crystal was followed immediately by collective laughter. It was a little too loud, a little too long, coming from dozens of colleagues who had been competing for the closest positions to the main table.

The cold air from the conditioning system seemed overpowered by the dense mix of musk, baccarat perfume, and the sweetness of alcohol blending with the guests’ breath.

Robert stood at the center of the circle, completely at ease as the axis of the evening. His black bespoke suit fit him perfectly, letting the applause echo for a moment before he spoke again.

“Tonight is not just a business celebration.” Robert turned slightly, pride etched clearly at the corners of his aging eyes.

“This is about restoring the proper order. My own flesh and blood has finally returned to reclaim his position.”

The room erupted again, this time accompanied by streams of sweet praise thrown from every direction.

Beside Robert, Liam responded only with a slight nod. He looked over the line of senior executives, men who might once have doubted him, now crowding together, bowing their heads, competing for his favor. Not a single word left his mouth, yet the faint smirk on his lips was more than enough to declare him the victor.

Meanwhile, Clara pressed herself closer to Liam’s side. Her slender fingers brushed lightly along his sleeve, a gesture of possession meant to show everyone exactly who stood beside the sole heir.

“You almost look like a real ruler tonight,” Clara whispered.

Her lips nearly grazed Liam’s jaw as she leaned in.

Liam let out an amused breath, slowly swirling the golden liquid in his glass.

“Not almost, Clara. I’m simply taking back my seat. That loser has been kicked into the gutter, where he belonged from the start.”

Clara laughed softly. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I can already picture Sterling Tower standing tall. You’ll make every old executive in this room look like fossils.”

“Let them,” Liam replied casually.

“The materials are arriving at the port tonight. By morning, they’ll start pouring the foundation. Nothing can stop this project now.”

A firm slap on his back pushed Liam slightly forward. Robert stood there, his face flushed from three glasses of champagne.

“Did you hear that, gentlemen?” Robert called loudly, deliberately drawing the attention of a group of investors nearby. “This quarter, Sterling Group is not just competing. Sterling Tower will swallow every one of your projects!”

Polite laughter and cheers broke out again. Glasses were raised high, celebrating greed neatly wrapped in expensive suits.

In the middle of a city official’s flattery, who had been trailing him all evening, Liam’s thigh vibrated. His phone in his pocket came alive.

At first, he ignored it. But the vibration came again, and again. Too insistent to be just congratulations or email notifications.

An irritated click escaped his lips. His focus shattered. He gently removed Clara’s hand from his arm and reached into his pocket.

“I need to take this call for a moment,” Liam murmured, already turning away before Clara could respond.

He walked quickly away from the clinking glasses and laughter that had begun to sound nauseating, searching for a quiet corner near a columned window.

His phone screen lit up, showing five missed calls from the Port Operations Manager.

Below it, a new message had just arrived.

Boss, the steel is being held by Customs. Red line. Fully blocked.

“Damn it.” Liam typed a reply, his thumb pressing too hard against the screen.

Double the payment. Fix it tonight.

The response came in less than ten seconds.

Doesn’t work. They want original documents with ministry stamps. Usually Mr. Ethan uses shell companies to bypass this system. We’re blind here, Boss.

Liam’s breath caught the moment that name hit him. For ten years, his family had enjoyed smooth operations, and only now did he realize that the dirty work of his father’s former adopted son had been clearing every landmine ahead of them.

Liam knew nothing about this underground bureaucracy.

“Darling? Why do you look pale?”

Clara’s voice behind him nearly made him drop the phone. He quickly turned off the screen and shoved it back into his pocket.

“It’s nothing.” Liam forced a smile, though his jaw tightened. “The catering company is acting up for tomorrow’s event. I’ll handle it.”

As soon as Clara returned to the circle of socialites, Liam slipped away into a quiet corridor near the men’s restroom, his heart pounding wildly. He pressed the phone to his ear, dialing a high-ranking police officer, one of his father’s contacts who was usually reachable at any time.

The line rang for a while. On the fifth ring, it was finally answered.

“Hello, Uncle. It’s Liam. I need access to the green lane at the port tonight. There’s an issue…”

“Liam,” the man cut in quickly, his voice low and restrained. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. But an hour ago, the central system suddenly locked your ship’s manifest. There’s a surprise audit from the ministry.”

“An audit? Uncle, that steel has to be released tonight, or…”

“I’m not willing to risk going against the central system tonight. Handle the official documents in the morning. We’ll talk later.”

Click.

The call ended abruptly.

Liam stared at his phone screen in disbelief. A sudden audit? Why now?

He quickly dialed a customs official who regularly received monthly payments from his father.

The number you have dialed is being forwarded.

He tried the company’s senior legal counsel.

The number you have dialed is not active.

A cold sensation crept up the back of Liam’s neck. The Sterling family name had always opened every door, yet tonight, every access point seemed sealed shut. The grease money and bureaucratic connections that usually smoothed their path suddenly meant nothing.

Liam struck the marble wall lightly, cursing under his breath. Panic began to spread. If news of the seized shipment leaked to the media, tomorrow’s groundbreaking ceremony would collapse instantly. Investors would question his capability, and this was only his first day in charge.

“Liam? Why are you here?”

Robert’s heavy, alcohol-roughened voice echoed from the end of the corridor.

The older man staggered toward him with a glass of wine in hand, smiling broadly like a king unaware his kingdom had just caught fire.

“It’s time for the main stage.” Robert slapped Liam’s shoulder hard enough to nearly make him stumble. “Get your best smile ready. We’re going to show this city who’s in control.”

Liam swallowed. His mouth felt numb. “Of course, Father.”

Robert narrowed his eyes, catching the tension in his son’s jaw. “Relax a little, Liam. You look like you’re about to be executed, not attending a press conference.”

“Just… nervous about the cameras,” Liam lied, forcing out a dry chuckle.

Robert snorted in amusement, his pride overshadowing any suspicion. “That’s the price of power. Come on.”

They stepped through the double doors into the main ballroom. The soft jazz faded beneath roaring applause and the flashing bursts of cameras that struck like lightning.

Robert took his place behind the podium with the ease of a king accustomed to admiration.

Liam stood behind him, hiding his cold hands behind his back. He arranged a perfect smile and stared straight into the camera lenses.

“Tonight, Sterling Group is not only celebrating a new project,” Robert declared, his voice rich and commanding.

“Sterling Tower is our commitment to advancing the city’s economy, a legacy of dedication, and proof that our family always sets a standard beyond the reach of others.”

Amid the thunder of applause and blinding flashes, Liam’s thigh vibrated again.

Just one short vibration.

Without shifting his gaze from the cameras, Liam discreetly reached into his pocket. He pulled the phone out just enough for the screen to peek from beneath his jacket, hidden from view.

A new message, no sender name, only a string of random numbers.

The content nearly made his knees give out. Short, emotionless, and pushing him to the edge.

The ship has docked. The steel has been seized. Hope your father’s speech goes smoothly, Young Master.