Zenith's New Master: The Lost Sterling heir Returns

CHAPTER 10

Damien and Lily stood surrounded by their audience, basking in the attention and the mockery directed at Ethan.

"Look at him standing there," Lily said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Still pretending he belongs in places like this."

"Just because you managed to steal or forge some access card doesn't mean you can compare yourself to us," Damien added, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're still the same worthless nobody you've always been."

The crowd murmured their agreement, some openly laughing.

Ethan remained perfectly still, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Once the chairman signs off on our partnership this afternoon," Damien continued, puffing his chest, "the Cross family officially becomes second tier. My father will control partnerships worth billions. And you?" He gestured dismissively at Ethan. "You'll still be exactly where you've always been—at the bottom, looking up at people like me."

"The chairman won't be signing anything," Ethan said quietly.

The laughter that followed was immediate and vicious.

"Did he just—" someone started.

"He thinks he knows what the chairman will do!" another finished, and the crowd erupted in fresh mockery.

"Oh, this is priceless," Lily said, wiping fake tears from her eyes. "The orphan warehouse worker is now predicting business decisions for Zenith Global Industries. What's next? Are you going to tell us stock prices too?"

"You're even more delusional than I thought," Damien said, shaking his head with theatrical pity. "The chairman doesn't even know you exist. You're nothing to him. You're nothing to anyone in this room."

"The deal is finalized," a businessman added. "Everyone knows it. Cross Enterprises and Zenith Global—it's done except for the formality."

Ethan simply looked at them and smiled slightly.

The ring pulsed against his finger.

At that moment, a ripple of excitement moved through the crowd.

"The chairman is arriving!" someone announced from near the entrance.

"He's here already?"

"And Miss Winters is with him!"

The entire hall shifted, conversations dying as everyone turned their attention toward the main doors. The name Sophia Winters carried weight—everyone knew she was the General Manager, the embodiment of the chairman's will, known throughout the business world for her ruthless efficiency and unwavering loyalty.

"Sophia Winters," someone whispered reverently. "She never appears at these events unless something major is happening."

"If she's here personally, the chairman must be making a significant announcement."

The atmosphere grew electric with anticipation.

Then Director Michael Hayes entered through a side door.

The room fell completely silent.

Hayes was a tall man with silver-streaked hair, impeccably dressed, his expression carrying the practiced neutrality of someone who'd spent decades navigating corporate politics. His presence commanded immediate respect.

Damien's eyes lit up. This was his opportunity.

He stepped forward quickly, raising his voice to carry across the now-quiet hall. "Director Hayes! Thank you for allowing us back inside after that unfortunate misunderstanding earlier."

Hayes nodded slightly, his attention scanning the room.

"There's actually an urgent matter that requires your attention," Damien continued, his voice taking on a tone of righteous indignation. "There's an imposter in this hall. Someone who has no business being here, who has been making outrageous claims and causing disruptions."

Hayes's eyebrows raised slightly. "An imposter?"

"Yes sir." Damien pointed directly at Ethan. "That man. He forced his way in using a stolen or forged access card. He's been impersonating someone of importance, and just moments ago, he had the audacity to claim he knows what the chairman will or won't do. It's disrespectful to everyone here and to Zenith Global itself."

The crowd murmured their agreement, emboldened by Damien's accusation.

"He attacked security outside," someone added.

"He's been causing trouble all morning," another contributed.

"Someone like that shouldn't be allowed in a place like this," a third said.

Hayes turned his cold gaze toward Ethan, studying him for a long moment.

"Is this true?" Hayes asked. "Did you force your way into this event?"

Ethan met his gaze steadily but said nothing.

"He won't even defend himself," Lily said. "Because he knows he's guilty."

Hayes's expression hardened. "Security. Remove this individual from the premises immediately. And make sure he understands the consequences of trespassing at a corporate event of this magnitude. Break his legs if necessary—send a message that Zenith Global does not tolerate this kind of behavior."

Six security guards moved forward immediately, hands on their weapons.

"Finally," Damien said with satisfaction. "About time someone dealt with this trash properly."

The crowd parted, creating a clear path between the guards and Ethan.

One of the guards—a large man with a shaved head—drew his sidearm, pointing it directly at Ethan's chest. "On your knees. Now."

Ethan didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his eyes flickering with something that might have been amusement.

"I said on your KNEES!" the guard shouted, his finger moving to the trigger.

At that exact moment, the main doors exploded open with enough force to crack against the walls.

Red laser dots appeared instantly—one on each guard's forehead, perfectly centered, unwavering.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

A unit of elite bodyguards swept into the hall, moving with military precision, weapons drawn, every movement coordinated and lethal. They wore black tactical suits, earpieces, and expressions that promised violence.

Behind them walked Sophia Winters.

She entered like a storm given human form—her black suit immaculate, her heels clicking against marble with measured authority, her eyes scanning the frozen scene with the cold assessment of a predator.

Every person in the hall felt their breath catch.

The bodyguards fanned out, laser sights never wavering from their targets. The guard with his gun pointed at Ethan found himself staring at three red dots on his own forehead, his hands beginning to shake.

Sophia's gaze locked onto him like a missile acquiring its target.

She walked forward slowly, deliberately, each step echoing through the absolute silence.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, controlled, and more terrifying than any shout.

"How dare you point a gun at—”