The Return Of The Hidden Dragon

5: The Trap Is Set

The morning sky was gray, heavy with clouds that hid the sun. Inside her penthouse, Victoria Morgan was wide awake.

Coffee cups and papers covered the dining table. Her hair, usually perfect, hung loose around her shoulders.

The bright lights of the room reflected off her laptop screen, showing the same headline over and over again: “ALEXANDER STERLING TAKES FULL CONTROL OF THE STERLING GROUP.”

“MORGAN LUXE LOSES ALL STERLING FUNDING.”

Her fingers trembled as she refreshed the page again, hoping the words would change. They didn’t.

Her assistant, Ella, entered quietly. She carried a tray with a fresh cup of coffee and a worried look. “Ma’am,” she said softly, “you should take a break.”

Victoria didn’t answer. She was staring at the photo of Alexander attached to the news article, tall, calm, serious. 

The man she had once called weak looked like a stranger now. “He planned this,” she whispered. “Every bit of it.”

Ella hesitated. “Maybe it’s not personal, ma’am. Maybe he just, ”

“Not personal?” Victoria’s voice rose. She turned sharply. “He’s destroying me! This is revenge!”

Ella looked down. Victoria sighed, rubbing her temple. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”

Her phone buzzed then, loud in the quiet room. She picked it up. The name on the screen froze her: HAROLD STERLING.

Her heartbeat quickened. She hesitated, then pressed answer. “Why are you calling me?” she asked coldly.

Harold’s deep voice came through, calm and smooth like silk. “Because, my dear, it seems we have a common enemy.”

Victoria frowned. “Don’t play games with me. You and Alexander are family.”

“Family,” Harold said with a dry laugh. “He took everything from me. My position, my company, my control. He’s no nephew of mine anymore.”

Victoria’s jaw tightened. “You think I care about your problems?”

“You should,” Harold said softly. “Because if you don’t, his next move will finish you.”

There was silence for a moment. Only the hum of the city outside filled the space. Victoria crossed her arms. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because you don’t have a choice.” His voice hardened. “You’re bleeding money, the press is turning on you, and your investors are running. He’s playing you like a violin, Victoria. I can help you stop him.”

Victoria bit her lip. She hated that he was right. She hated even more that she needed him. “Fine,” she said after a pause. “What do you want me to do?”

“We set a trap,” Harold replied. “A fake business deal, something shiny enough to get his attention. When he tries to investigate, we catch him red-handed and leak it to the press. His reputation will collapse before he even knows what happened.”

Victoria paced across the room, thinking. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you’ll lose everything anyway,” Harold said simply. “The only question is how much you’re willing to risk.”

The line went quiet. Finally, Victoria spoke. “I’ll do it.”

Harold chuckled softly. “Good. Welcome to war, my dear.”

…

The Sterling Tower rose into the clouds like a monument of glass and power. Inside, Alexander Sterling stood by the large window of his office. The city below him looked small, fragile, even.

He wore a dark gray suit and no tie. His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp.

Lady Ivy entered with a tablet in her hand.

“Sir,” she said, “our team intercepted a message between Harold and Victoria. They’re planning something.”

Alexander didn’t move. “Let me guess,” he said quietly. “A fake deal?”

Ivy blinked. “Yes, exactly that. How did you know?”

Alexander smiled slightly. “Because Harold only knows one kind of game. The kind that always ends in his own trap.”

He turned away from the window. “Let them go ahead. I want every step of their plan recorded. Every call, every meeting, every lie.”

“Should we stop them?” Ivy asked.

Alexander shook his head. “No. Let them think they’re in control. Pride is the most useful weakness.”

He walked to his desk and placed his hand on a black folder. “Prepare the files. The ones that look real enough to fool them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Ivy,” he said as she turned to leave, “make sure when the truth comes out… the world knows exactly who started the war.”

In an old private club tucked inside Mayfair, Victoria arrived wearing a dark coat and large sunglasses. The smell of cigar smoke filled the room.

 Harold was already there, sitting by the window with a half-empty glass of whiskey. “You’re late,” he said without looking up.

“I had to make sure no one followed me,” Victoria replied, taking the seat across from him.

Harold smiled faintly. “You really think Alexander cares enough to have you followed?”

Victoria glared. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“And you don’t know him anymore,” Harold said quietly. “The boy you left is gone.”

Victoria said nothing. She hated the truth in his words. Harold leaned forward. “My people will leak news of a big merger in Paris. Alexander will hear about it. His curiosity will drag him straight into our hands.”

“How do you know?”

“Because men like him can’t resist control. He’ll want to know everything. He’ll make his move, and when he does, the press will already be waiting.”

Victoria stared down at her cup of tea. Her reflection wavered in the liquid. “If we do this,” she said softly, “there’s no going back.”

Harold gave her a thin smile. “Exactly.”

Neither of them noticed the waiter standing nearby, quiet, polite, refilling their cups. When he walked out, he removed his apron, stepped into the alley, and pulled out a small phone.

“Target conversation recorded,” he said in a low voice. “They took the bait.”

…

Alexander watched a live feed on a large screen in his office. The club, the table, the two traitors, all clear. He stood with his hands behind his back.

Ivy: “They’ve planned everything exactly how you said they would.”

Alexander: “Good.”

He turned toward her, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Tomorrow morning, they’ll think they’ve trapped me. But by the time the story breaks, the evidence will lead straight to them.”

Ivy looked at him carefully. “Sir… this isn’t just about business, is it?”

Alexander’s eyes darkened. “No.” He looked out the window again. “It’s about making them remember who I am.”

Victoria stood on her balcony, wearing a silk robe. Her glass of wine was untouched. The air felt cold, almost watchful.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Harold: Everything's ready. Tomorrow, we move.

Victoria typed a short reply: He won’t see it coming.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. A part of her still trembled, though she couldn’t explain why.

She walked back inside, closing the glass door behind her. Outside, on the edge of a nearby rooftop, a small black drone hovered silently. Its red light blinked once.

Inside Sterling Tower, miles away, Alexander watched the live feed on his monitor. Victoria’s face appeared on the screen, calm, proud, unaware.

He leaned back in his chair and spoke softly: “Oh, I see it, Victoria. Every step.”

He looked at the city lights and smiled faintly. “The trap isn’t mine,” he whispered. “It’s yours.”