The Return Of The Hidden Dragon

2: The Return of the Heir

The convoy cut through London like a silent storm. Alex Sterling sat in the backseat, the glow of passing headlights brushing across his face. 

For years, he’d hidden that name, Sterling, like a curse. Now, every mile brought him closer to the truth he’d buried.

Across from him, the silver-haired man from before adjusted his cufflinks. “Young Master, the board has been restless since your disappearance. Your uncle’s influence has grown... problematic.”

Alex’s gaze stayed on the window. “Harold Sterling always wanted Father’s seat. Let him enjoy the illusion a little longer.”

He leaned back, voice low. “I’ll decide what to do with him when the time comes.”

The man nodded, almost nervous. “As you wish, sir. The estate has been prepared for your arrival. Lady Ivy insisted the old wing remain untouched, she said you’d want it that way.”

At that, Alex’s expression softened slightly. “Ivy’s still there?”

“Yes, Young Master. She’s been overseeing your inheritance personally. The staff... still remember you.”

Alex said nothing. He could almost hear the laughter of his childhood echoing through the grand halls.

His father’s deep voice teaching him the meaning of control, ‘Power isn’t taken, Alex. It’s inherited with the weight of responsibility.’

But that weight had nearly crushed him. It had driven him to walk away from the empire, to live as an ordinary man, to marry Victoria Morgan, to believe love was stronger than power.

He exhaled slowly. He’d been wrong. The car turned off the main road, climbing a long, cobbled driveway lined with ancient oaks.

Then it appeared, Sterling Manor, sprawling, timeless, every window glowing like eyes in the night.

As the car stopped, uniformed guards straightened. The grand doors opened, revealing a woman in an elegant black gown. 

Her presence was calm, commanding, eyes sharp as cut glass. “Welcome home, Alexander.”

He stepped out, rain catching his hair, and gave a faint nod. “It’s been a long time, Lady Ivy.”

“Too long,” she said softly. “Your father would have been proud to see you return.”

“Would he?” Alex’s tone was cool. “He wanted a leader. I became a ghost instead.”

She studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “Ghosts can be powerful, too, unseen until it’s too late.”

They entered the manor. The scent of polished oak and aged wine filled the halls. Portraits of ancestors stared down, silent judges in gold frames.

“The board assumes you’ve squandered your inheritance,” Ivy said as they walked. “Harold has been consolidating assets in your absence. He believes you’ll never return.”

Alex paused. “Then let’s not ruin his surprise.”

She arched a brow. “You plan to confront him directly?”

“Not yet.” A faint smile curved his lips. “First, I’ll remind the city who the Sterlings really are.”

Ivy’s heels clicked softly against the marble floor. “And your ex-wife?”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “Victoria will learn that the man she threw away was the one holding her world together.”

He turned, gaze cold as steel. “When she falls, she’ll see my face in every headline.”

Ivy’s smile returned, razor-thin. “Then London will tremble again, just like the old days.”

A servant approached, bowing. “Sir, your quarters have been prepared. Also, there’s a package, hand-delivered from Morgan Enterprises.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

He took the envelope. Inside was a glossy magazine, Business Vogue. The cover displayed Victoria in a red dress, smiling beneath the headline: “The Woman Who Conquered London, Victoria Morgan, CEO of the Year.”

Alex’s fingers tightened on the page, then he laughed. Quiet, cold, almost amused. “Conquered London?” He dropped the magazine onto the desk. “Then I’ll take the throne she built.”

Ivy poured two glasses of scotch, passing one to him. “To your return, Alexander Sterling.”

He raised the glass, eyes reflecting the golden light of the chandelier. “No,” he said softly. “To their reckoning.”