The Warlord Comes Home

Chapter 007

Having secured the acquisition of the Zenith Tower, Conrad Stone fell into a contemplative silence, his eyes closed in repose as he leaned back against the plush leather seat. Beside him, Phoenix focused entirely on the road, guiding the massive vehicle with the precision of a surgeon.

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided through the congested arteries of Haven City like a predatory shark moving through a school of nervous minnows. Surrounding traffic seemed to instinctively peel away, giving the luxury behemoth a wide berth, afraid to graze a bumper that cost more than their entire livelihoods.

The heavy, air-conditioned silence inside the cabin was suddenly shattered by a low, pained groan.

"Where... where am I?"

Marcus Sterling slowly drifted back to consciousness. He shook his head, trying to dispel the fog of concussion that clouded his vision. His skull throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache.

"Conrad... Conrad Stone? It's you!"

Clarity returned with the force of a sledgehammer. Marcus’s eyes widened as he registered the man sitting calmly beside him. The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale and trembling. Conrad sat there like an ancient statue, radiating an aura of terrifying stillness.

Conrad opened his eyes slowly, casting a glance at the terrified man that was as cold as liquid nitrogen. "You’re awake."

"Conrad, what do you want? If you touch me, the Sterling Family will hunt you to the ends of the earth. You won't survive the week!" Marcus Sterling stammered, his voice cracking. He looked at Conrad as if facing a demon from the deepest pit of hell. Beads of cold sweat began to form on his forehead, rolling down into his eyes, stinging them.

"Touch you?" Conrad let out a short, dry laugh. "Do you really think you are worthy of my effort?"

The question hung in the air, dripping with disdain.

"I told you before. My target is Isabella Sterling. You? You are nothing more than an insignificant pawn on the board. A nuisance. I don't have the idle time to waste on destroying someone as inconsequential as you."

The words were insulting, sharp enough to cut glass, yet Marcus felt a wave of relief wash over him so potent it nearly made him dizzy. Insults he could handle; death was another matter entirely. Regardless of the humiliation, his life was safe for the moment.

However, the uncertainty still gnawed at him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Grandpa... Grandpa Conrad... since I'm beneath your notice, why haven't you let me go?"

Conrad turned his head. Those abyssal eyes locked onto Marcus. It was a gaze that stripped away all defenses, a look that made Marcus feel as though his very soul was being laid bare on an autopsy table.

"Although you are an insignificant pawn," Conrad said softly, his voice smooth and terrifying, "the outcome of a war is often decided by how the pawns are played."

He paused, letting the silence stretch. "I won't crush Isabella Sterling immediately. That would be too merciful. Too quick. I want her to understand the true meaning of despair. I want to watch her empire crumble brick by brick before I deliver the final blow."

As he spoke, Conrad reached into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a small, nondescript white pill. He held it out.

"Eat it."

Marcus stared at the pill as if it were a live grenade. His heart began to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird. "What... what is this?"

"Poison."

Conrad’s tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "From now on, you work for me. You will be my eyes and ears inside the Sterling Family. The antidote for this particular compound exists in only one place in the world: my pocket. Do not waste your time with hospitals or doctors; they won't even detect it until your organs begin to liquefy. Every so often, bring me intelligence on the Sterling Family, and I will give you a temporary antidote to keep you alive."

Conrad leaned back, closing his fingers over the pill, then opening them again. "Of course, you can choose not to eat it. Phoenix."

"Yes, Supreme Commander."

In a blur of motion, a gleaming blade appeared in the driver's hand, humming through the air before stopping a hair's breadth from Marcus's jugular. The cold steel pressed against his skin, drawing a singular, tiny drop of blood. Marcus's pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black.

"Choose."

Marcus’s face twisted into a mask of pure agony. His expression cycled through rage, terror, and finally, abject defeat. His hands shaking uncontrollably, he took the white pill and dry-swallowed it. He could feel it sliding down his esophagus, a cold lump of death settling in his stomach.

As if he had expected nothing less, Conrad’s expression remained unchanged. "Good. Phoenix, let him out."

With a soft screech of tires, the Rolls-Royce pulled over to the curb. Marcus Sterling stumbled out of the car, his legs like jelly. The vehicle didn't wait; it merged back into traffic instantly, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, a ticking time bomb in his gut.

Ten minutes later, the car came to a smooth halt in the heart of Haven City's most prestigious Financial District.

Skyscrapers pierced the clouds on all sides, monuments to capitalism and ambition. But in the center of them all stood the undisputed king of the skyline: The Zenith Tower. It was a monolith of glass and steel, reflecting the sun with blinding brilliance.

After stepping out of the car, Conrad waved his hand, dismissing Phoenix. He stood alone on the bustling sidewalk, tilting his head back to gaze up at the towering structure. His eyes, usually so cold and guarded, softened with a profound, steely resolve.

"Celeste... Kylie... I am here."

He adjusted his collar and prepared to enter. Just as he approached the main revolving doors, an executive van swung into the entrance of the subterranean garage nearby. Moments later, two women dressed in immaculate business attire emerged from the parking structure's pedestrian exit.

It was Martha Pierce and her daughter, Caroline Lynn.

Caroline’s face was a mask of icy displeasure, her steps sharp and aggressive. Martha scurried beside her, trying to placate her daughter with soothing words.

"Caroline, honey, don't worry. I am completely on your side this time. Even if you hadn't kicked that piece of trash out, I would have done it myself eventually. He was a plague on our house."

Martha continued, breathless as she tried to keep pace. "As for your father, Arthur, leave him to me. I'll handle him. Once we secure the bid for Orion Innovations this afternoon, he won't dare say a word against us. Money talks, darling."

"Hmph."

Caroline’s expression softened slightly, though the scowl didn't entirely vanish. If they could land the contract with Regency Global today, it would change their standing in the family. They would have leverage.

The two women clicked their heels toward the main entrance.

"Conrad?! What on earth are you doing here?"

Before they could reach the doors, Caroline spotted the tall figure standing near the entrance. Her eyes narrowed instantly. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she bristled with hostility and marched straight up to him.

"I thought you might have discovered a shred of conscience and left for good," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "But it seems you're just a lingering ghost. Are you stalking me now?"

"Stalking you?"

Conrad actually laughed. It was a genuine reaction to the absurdity of her narcissism. He shook his head, looking at her with pity. "I have business at The Zenith Tower."

"You? Business?" Martha Pierce chimed in, looking him up and down with unmasked sneering contempt. "Do you even know what kind of place this is? The air in the lobby costs more than your entire wardrobe."

"Oh, I get it..."

Caroline’s eyes suddenly gleamed with a strange, mocking realization. "You're here for an interview, aren't you?"

She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Well, credit where credit is due, thinking about getting a job is a step up. But Conrad, you need to be realistic. You can't just walk into The Zenith Tower and expect to find work. This building is full of elites, high-end professionals. It's not a place for someone with no degree, no resume, and a five-year gap in their history to just waltz in."

Conrad sighed, shaking his head. He had no interest in engaging with their delusions. He sidestepped them, intending to walk through the doors.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

Seeing Conrad ignore her, Caroline felt a spike of irrational anger. She physically stepped in front of him, blocking his path with her body. "I told you, you can't go in there. Why do you insist on humiliating yourself? Look, if you are that desperate for a job, for the sake of our childhood connection, I can ask a friend to get you a position at a construction site. Carrying bricks suits you better than—"

"Move."

Suddenly, Conrad’s voice dropped an octave. It was a thunderclap of command. An aura of bone-chilling coldness exploded from him.

The single word struck Caroline with physical force. Startled and terrified by the sudden shift in his demeanor, she stumbled backward three steps. Her ankle twisted in her seven-inch stilettos, and she let out a sharp hiss of pain as she nearly fell.

"And I will warn you, for the sake of that same childhood connection," Conrad said, his voice devoid of humanity, cold as the grave. "Do not block my path."

He had done his duty to the Lynn Family. He owed them nothing. Compared to Celeste Lynn and their daughter, Caroline was less than dust to him.

"You... you dare threaten me?!"

Recovering from the shock, Caroline’s humiliation turned into blinding rage. Ignoring her throbbing ankle, she lunged toward Conrad, claws out.

However, a man in a crisp security uniform stepped in, blocking the commotion with an annoyed expression. "Hey, hey! What is this noise? Who are you people?"

"We are representatives from Orion Innovations, here for the bidding conference," Caroline declared, pulling out an opulent invitation card. She glared at the man—Chief Hawkins, the head of security. She pointed an accusatory finger at Conrad. "This man has nothing to do with the conference. He's trying to force his way into the venue."

Caroline’s voice turned icy. "Mr. Security Chief, President Lynn places great importance on today's bidding. If any trash is allowed in to disturb the proceedings, it will be your negligence on the line."

Hearing the name Lynn and seeing the invitation, Chief Hawkins straightened up immediately. His expression shifted from annoyance to servility toward the women, and then to menace as he turned to Conrad. He grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Security to the main entrance. Now."

Within seconds, a dozen burly guards surrounded them.

"You're on your own," Caroline sneered at Conrad. "Mom, let's go."

With a final, triumphant glare, Caroline and Martha swept past security and into the cool lobby of The Zenith Tower.

"Listen to me, pal," Chief Hawkins said, tapping his heavy rubber baton against his palm rhythmically. He stepped into Conrad’s personal space. "Today is a big day. Important people. No rif-raf allowed."

He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "If you're smart, you'll roll out of here. If not... well, my baton doesn't have eyes. It might accidentally break a few bones."

"How do you know I am rif-raf?" Conrad asked, his voice remaining terrifyingly calm. "Call the person in charge of this building down here."

"Ha! You want Mr. Tucker to come down? Who do you think you are? The President?" Hawkins laughed, and his subordinates chuckled with him. "You think you have the qualifications to breathe the same air as Zane Tucker?"

Hawkins’ face hardened. "Are you leaving or not? No? Alright, boys. Teach him a lesson about loitering."

At his command, the security guards behind Hawkins unhitched their batons, their faces twisting into malicious grins as they closed the circle around Conrad.

"HAWKINS! FREEZE!"

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air from the lobby, desperate and hysterical.

A moment later, a man shaped remarkably like a sphere came sprinting out of the building. His short legs were pumping furiously, propelling his rotund body forward with surprising, albeit comical, speed. He was sweating profusely, his expensive suit straining at the seams.

"Mr. Tucker? Why are you down here?"

Seeing the building's owner running like he was being chased by a lion, Chief Hawkins froze, baton mid-air.

"You dare ask me why?!"

Zane Tucker finally reached the entrance, gasping for air. Before he could even catch his breath, he wound up and delivered a resounding slap across Hawkins' face.

Smack!

"You idiot! If you want to dig your own grave, fine! But don't you dare drag me into it!"