The Consortium Heir: My Stepsisters are obsessed with me

Chapter 9: The Proposition

Anthony walked to the study behind Sophie dressed like a different man.

Sophie had fixed him up, proper shirt, proper jacket, clothes that fit a person who actually belonged here. He still felt like a guest in his own skin, but at least he looked the part now.

A few minutes later he reached a set of large wooden doors. Sophie stood outside and opened them

"Mr. Stark is waiting for you."

Anthony nodded and stepped inside.

The study door stood open, so he stepped through.

The first thing Anthony noticed was the silence. Everything in the room felt like power that had better things to do than show off.

His eyes drifted up one wall, and he found himself standing in front of a portrait. It was a massive family portrait, painted so realistically it felt like the people might start talking.

In the center stood Robert Stark, and around him stood seven women. Seven.

Are these his daughters? Anthony thought to himself. Are these all his children?

His eyes moved from one face to the next, and slowly, five of them clicked into place. Sonia, Mia, Isabella, the girl in the in hoodie that left before he could catch her name, and lastly, Sophie.

Wait If Sophie is in this picture... does that mean she's his daughter too?

Anthony shook his head and filed the thought away in the drawer marked deal with later. He had bigger problems waiting behind that desk.

Because behind the desk sat the man himself.

Robert Stark.

Anthony had already seen him once — the man who'd walked into the hospital with an army at his back and changed the whole atmosphere of a room without saying a single word.

Right now, he was writing something, and he didn't look up or even acknowledge that someone had walked into his study.

The sheer confidence of it should have felt like a snub. Instead, Anthony just felt impatient, because there was only one thing he actually cared about.

His mother.

Anthony stood there for a moment, then moved deeper into the room. Each step felt louder than it should have.

The man's presence filled the space with the kind of cold aura that made you straighten your back without being told to.

Anthony got closer and cleared his throat. "You asked to see me?"

The pen stopped. Robert Stark set it down and looked up, his eyes calm, sharp, the kind that made a person feel measured. "The DNA test was run using one of our private labs, so the result came earl—"

"How is my mother?" His voice came out harder than he planned.

It was the first thing he'd said without overthinking it. Robert paused. Anthony didn't care about wealth, inheritance — not right now. He was only in this room because of one person.

"I want to know about my mother.” he repeated. "Is she okay?"

Robert studied him for a long second. Something almost like approval passed through his expression, then vanished.

"Your mother is in one of the finest hospitals in the world, treated by some of the best doctors in their field." Robert said, steady. "She'll be okay. I give you my word."

Anthony felt something in his chest finally loosen, a weight he'd been carrying since the ICU sliding off his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said quietly. Simple, but he meant every bit of it.

Robert nodded. "Now that your mother's situation is handled, there are things we need to discuss." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."

Anthony hesitated, then sat.

Robert leaned back, and folded his hands on the desk. "Twenty-two years ago, before I became one of the wealthiest men alive, your mother and I were married."

The words landed strangely, Anthony had already known they'd been together, but hearing it said outright was different.

"Your mother was there before any of this — before the empire, the money, the power. She believed in me before the world did."

Anthony leaned in closer, at this point he could tell he was about to be hit with a more detailed backstory.

"We loved each other," Robert said, looking toward the window. "But things happened." His voice cooled. "Things that pulled us apart."

He said it flat, but the flatness itself said everything. Like a man reading a confession he'd memorized long ago, and hated every word of.

"What happened?" Anthony asked quietly.

Robert's eyes flickered, and for a heartbeat, something honest and raw crossed his face. Regret. Real regret.

"That's not important right now," he said finally, in a tone that meant it was extremely important and he would rather swallow glass than discuss it.

"What is important is this. You were born around the same time we separated. So I had reason to believe you were my son."

Anthony fixed on one word. "Had?"

Robert picked up a single sheet of paper from the desk. He didn't hand it over. He didn't need to.

"The DNA results are out," he said. "You are not my son."

The room went silent.

The words hit harder than he expected, which was its own kind of strange. Not because he'd genuinely expected to be Robert Stark's son — he hadn't, it had always sounded too impossible for that — but somewhere underneath, he'd still pictured it.

Two weeks ago, his biggest problem was rent. But a new life had been sitting right in front of him. A chance to walk away from the life that had been slowly crushing him. And now that door was shut, just like that, with one sheet of paper.

For a moment Anthony just sat there, blinking, waiting for the sentence to rearrange itself into something else. It didn't. Not his son. Not related. Not by blood, not at all.

“So…” His voice came out lower than he meant. "What about my mom? What does that mean for her?"

"Your mother will still be taken care of at the highest level." Robert's answer came instantly, without hesitation. "She is still my wife, and the love of my life. That will never change."

Anthony didn't miss the weight behind that. Whatever had happened between them years ago, Robert Stark still cared about her — clearly, deeply.

"But you, on the other hand," Robert continued, his dark eyes fixed on Anthony with fresh interest. "I have an interesting proposition for you."

"What proposition?" Anthony leaned forward despite himself.

Robert rose from his chair. Slow, unhurried. He walked around the desk until he stood directly in front of Anthony, and even standing, he somehow radiated the same crushing stillness.

"I am still willing to make you the sole heir to the entire Stark Consortium."

Anthony's brain stopped working. "Wait." He pointed at himself. " Me?

Robert nodded.

“But how?” His mouth opened and closed twice before words came out. “You just told me I'm not your son.”

“You are Seraphina’s son.” Robert answered. “That connection alone is enough for me.”

But Anthony still wasn’t having it. “Your actual blood family is in this house. Why on earth would you hand all of that to a stranger?"

"Because I have my reasons," Robert said, in a voice that closed the door on that question forever. "However. There's one condition."

Robert's expression didn't change, but the room somehow got colder.

Anthony swallowed. "And what is this condition?”

Robert Stark looked him dead in the eye.

"You must marry one of my daughters."