chapter 140
Sebastian's POV:
The silence in the car pressed against my skull like a vise.
Marcus had just finished his report, each word another nail in the coffin I was already building for the Smith family.
"They made inquiries about Mrs. Vane's movements," he'd said, professional even as he recognized the death sentence in those words. "Our intelligence indicates they've been tracking her medical appointments, sir. And there's been communication with Rebecca Sterling dating back months."
Even from the grave, Rebecca Sterling is trying to destroy us
My driver kept his eyes fixed on the road, shoulders rigid with the kind of tension that came from years of reading my moods. Smart man. He knew when the beast was barely leashed.
My fingers found the crystal paperweight on the armrest. The weight of it in my palm was satisfying, solid. Real.
"The Smith family," I murmured, testing the name on my tongue like expensive poison. "How... interesting."
The paperweight creaked under my grip. The driver's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
"Sir," the driver ventured, voice barely above a whisper. "We've arrived at Blackstone."
I stepped out of the car, each movement deliberate, controlled.
The employees scattered like startled birds at my approach, their whispered conversations dying mid-sentence. Someone from accounting actually stumbled backward into a potted plant.
The executive elevator rose in blessed silence, carrying me away from the suffocating normalcy of the lower floors.
My reflection in the polished doors showed a man in perfect control—immaculate suit, not a hair out of place. Only the slight tension in my jaw betrayed the storm beneath.
I'd already sent word ahead. Damian, Adrian and the Seventh Director would be waiting. They knew better than to be late when I used that particular tone.
The boardroom doors opened to reveal them already assembled. Damian sat rigid in his chair, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm. Adrian looked haggard. The Seventh Director clutched his handkerchief like a lifeline.
I took my seat at the head of the table, placing the crystal paperweight before me with deliberate care. The sharp crack as I set it down made all three men flinch.
"Gentlemen," I began, my voice deceptively soft. "We have a situation."
The Seventh Director cleared his throat nervously, his fingers trembling as they found his handkerchief. "Sebastian, what... what kind of situation are we discussing here? The quarterly reports showed everything running smoothly—"
"The Smith family," I interrupted with practiced calm, "has apparently decided to test whether the Vane name still carries weight."
Adrian straightened at the mention of the name, a spark of confusion cutting through his exhaustion. "The Smiths? What do they have to do with anything?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "They've decided to target something precious to me. My Elena, to be specific. And the child she carries."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. I watched their faces change as the implications sank in.
"But uncle," Adrian ventured, his brow furrowing in that earnest way that reminded me why I still had hope for him. "Elena is... she's gentle. Kind to everyone. What could she possibly have done to provoke the Smith?"
"The reason is irrelevant." I cut him off. "They threatened her. They threatened our child. Whatever justification they've manufactured in their minds died the moment they spoke her name."
Did they think distance made them safe? That their old money and older connections would protect them? They were about to learn why the old money families were called 'old' money—because they knew when to keep their hands to themselves and live long enough to pass it down.
The door opened quietly, and James entered with his usual efficiency, a tablet in hand. "Sir, the initial report from our intelligence division."
I took the tablet, scanning the preliminary findings while my audience sat frozen.
The Smith connection to the Sterling family stretched back over a decade—payments, correspondence, meetings carefully hidden but not carefully enough.
"It seems," I said, setting the tablet aside, "that Rebecca Sterling has been playing a very long game. And the Smiths are her chosen weapon."
"But why?" The Director found his voice. "What could the Smith possibly gain from collaborating with the Sterling family? What's worth risking war with us?"
I stood, moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. My city.
"That is what we're going to find out. "
"Already in progress, sir."
"Very good," I said, turning back to face them. "This meeting is concluded. Damian, Adrian—you have your assignments. Director, I trust you'll ensure the board remains... calm during this situation."
They filed out quickly, understanding the dismissal. I waited until the door clicked shut before pulling out my phone.
"Nicholas? Clear your evening. Eden Club, top floor. We need to talk."
---
The private room at Eden Club was a sanctuary of shadow and expensive leather, the kind of place where empires were built and destroyed over aged whiskey. Nicholas was already waiting, his usual languid pose sharpened by the tension in my voice.
"This must be serious," he said, pushing a glass across the table. "You never summon me like this unless someone's about to bleed."
I briefly explained the information to him.
"There must be some kind of deal between them," Nicholas mused, swirling his whiskey. "Something significant enough for both sides to risk exposure. The Sterlings aren't stupid, and neither are the Smith."
I nodded, already seeing the shape of it forming in the shadows of their communications. "Whatever she's promised them, whatever they've promised her—it's been years in the making."
"So what's the play?" Nicholas asked. "Full frontal assault? Economic strangulation?"
I smiled, swirling the untouched whiskey in my glass. "Something more... creative. Tell me, Nicholas, what would you say if I told you I was planning to install a new heir to the Smith empire?"
He blinked, certain he'd misheard. "Install a— Sebastian, what the hell are you talking about?"
"You're not serious." Nicholas set down his glass hard enough to make the table shake.