Zenith's New Master: The Lost Sterling heir Returns

The sounds from behind the apartment door made Ethan freeze, his hand hovering inches from the doorknob.

Rhythmic creaking. Heavy breathing. A woman's moans rising in unmistakable pleasure.

His chest tightened, a cold dread spreading through his veins.

The text from Lily had been clear: Come over tonight. I need to see you. After three years together, after everything he'd sacrificed for her, he'd thought maybe tonight would finally be different. Maybe she'd finally agree to make their relationship official, to acknowledge what they had publicly.

Ethan's jaw clenched as reality crashed over him. He twisted the unlocked doorknob and shoved the door open hard enough that it slammed against the wall.

The scene before him shattered everything he'd believed.

Lily straddled a man on her bed, both completely naked, her dark hair spilling down her bare back in waves. She whipped around at the intrusion, her eyes widening for a single heartbeat before something cold and calculating replaced the surprise. There was no panic in her expression, no shame—only mild annoyance.

"Ethan?" She didn't scramble to cover herself. Didn't scream or beg for forgiveness. Instead, she climbed off the man with deliberate, unhurried ease and reached for a silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "You're here early."

The man on the bed sat up without a shred of shame, a cruel smirk playing across his handsome face. Damien Cross. Ethan recognized him instantly—heir to the Cross family fortune, one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the city. His reputation for violence, debauchery, and getting away with anything was legendary. People whispered his name with a mixture of fear and disgust.

"What... what the hell is this?" Ethan's voice came out strangled, barely above a whisper.

Damien laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the walls. "What does it look like, you pathetic worm? I'm claiming what was never yours to begin with." He stretched languidly, making no move to cover himself. "Did you really think someone like Lily would settle for trash like you?"

"Lily—" Ethan took a step forward, his hands trembling, but she held up her hand sharply.

"Stop right there." Her voice was ice, devoid of any warmth he'd once imagined he heard. "Actually, this timing works out perfectly. I've been meaning to end things with you anyway. You just made it easier by showing up."

The words struck like physical blows, each one stealing the air from his lungs. "End things? After everything I did for you—after I gave you my *bone marrow*—"

"Oh, that." Lily tied her robe closed with casual indifference, her expression twisting into something cruel. "You actually thought I loved you? That someone like me would genuinely want to be with an orphan nobody like you?" She laughed, sharp and bitter. "God, you're even more pathetic than I thought."

Ethan felt the ground shift beneath him, his world tilting dangerously.

Damien rose from the bed, casually pulling on his expensive designer pants. "Let me spell it out for your simple, stupid mind, trash. Lily needed bone marrow for her leukemia two years ago. You happened to be a match. So she strung you along like the desperate dog you are until she got what she needed." He draped a possessive arm around Lily's shoulders, pulling her close. "Now that she's healthy again, you're completely useless. Your purpose has been served. You can disappear now."

"Do you have any idea how disgusting it was?" Lily added with a visible shudder of revulsion. "Pretending to like you? Letting you hold my hand? Having to smile at someone from an orphanage—someone with no family, no background, no name, no future? It made my skin crawl every single time."

The room spun violently. Three years. Three years of working double shifts at the warehouse and the restaurant, barely sleeping, just to buy her gifts and help pay for her medical treatments. Three years of being there through every hospital visit, holding her hand through the pain, believing they were building something real together.

All of it was a calculated lie.

"You're pathetic, Ethan," Damien continued, stepping closer with predatory confidence. "Your parents were probably drug addicts who killed themselves out of shame for producing something as worthless as you. No wonder they threw you away like garbage at that orphanage. They took one look at you and knew you weren't worth keeping."

Something inside Ethan exploded, a white-hot fury obliterating thought.

He lunged forward, his fist crashing into Damien's jaw with all the rage and betrayal fueling his body. The heir stumbled backward more from surprise than actual force, his expression shifting from smug superiority to genuine shock. Ethan had never been a fighter—he'd always avoided violence—but rage gave him temporary strength.

"Shut your mouth! Don't you dare talk about them—"

Damien's return punch slammed into Ethan's ribs with brutal force, driving every molecule of air from his lungs. Pain exploded through his chest. Another blow cracked against his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side. Blood filled his mouth instantly. Ethan tried desperately to fight back, throwing wild punches, but his body betrayed him at every turn.

The bone marrow donation six weeks ago had left him devastated. He was still weak, still recovering, his body depleted of essential resources. He had no chance.

Damien's fists rained down, each impact more devastating than the last. Blood poured from Ethan's nose and mouth, hot and metallic. His vision blurred red and black. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, then forward onto the cold floor.

"Worthless piece of shit," Damien spat on him, the saliva landing on Ethan's cheek. "You're not even worth the effort. What a waste of time."

"Is he... dead?" Lily's voice sounded distant, utterly unconcerned, as if asking about the weather.

"Who the hell cares?" Damien kicked Ethan's ribs hard, eliciting a wet, gurgling sound. "Help me move this garbage. I know a place we can dump him."

---

Ethan's consciousness flickered in and out like a dying light. He registered being dragged across rough carpet, the trunk of a luxury car, the rumble of an engine. Then being thrown roughly onto hard, filthy concrete. The overwhelming reek of rot, waste, and animal musk filled his nostrils, making him gag weakly.

Metal clanged loudly. Bars surrounded him on all sides. A cage.

"The wild dogs here will finish him off by morning," Damien's voice echoed from somewhere above. "No body, no evidence, no problem."

"Good. Let's go. I need a long shower after touching him," Lily said with disgust dripping from every word.

Footsteps faded into the distance. An engine started, then drove away. Then nothing but silence and the distant sound of animals stirring.

Ethan lay bleeding on the filthy concrete floor of the cage, barely clinging to consciousness. His blood pooled steadily beneath him, spreading across the ground in dark rivers. The ancient ring on his finger—a simple bronze band, the only possession he had from his unknown past—grew suddenly warm against his skin.

His blood touched the ring's weathered surface.

Suddenly, the ring blazed with brilliant crimson light that cut through the darkness. Ancient energy erupted from within it, overwhelming and primal, flooding into Ethan's broken, dying body. Power surged through his veins like liquid fire, burning away the pain, mending torn flesh, knitting shattered bones, filling the terrible emptiness the donation had left behind.

The ring's glow intensified until it was blinding, merging with him completely, becoming an inseparable part of his very essence and soul.

Ethan's eyes snapped open, burning with fierce crimson light that pierced the darkness.

He was reborn.