Chapter 74 Prodigal Son Returns
Chapter 74 Prodigal Son Returns
♤SEBASTIAN♤
“The headlines are already treating it like a bloodbath, sir,” Noah says, not even looking up from his tablet as the Maybach glides through the early morning gridlock.
“The formal press release from the chairman’s office dropped at exactly six-thirty. The Wall Street Journal and Bloomberg are running with: 'The Return of the Prodigal Son: Sebastian Cross Assumes Role as Sole Heir of Cross Holdings.' Beauty has been stripped of her position as Executive Vice President of Global Logistics. Effective immediately.”
I sit in the backseat, adjusting the cuffs of my bespoke black suit jacket.
My head rings with a dull ache from all the chaos happening lately.
I haven't set foot inside the Cross Holdings headquarters in a decade. I built my own firm, my own legacy, just so I would never have to breathe the same suffocating air as my father.
“I don't know what you were thinking when you accepted all this, boss,” Noah mutters, his voice dropping into that rare, completely honest tone he only uses when the partition is rolled up.
“I know you, boss. You’d rather set yourself on fire than take that throne. So what the hell did Jonathan use to change your mind?”
I cut my eyes toward him, the glare sharp enough to slice glass.
“Since when did you start giving me lectures and life advice on how I should and shouldn’t live my life, Noah?”
Noah doesn't flinch. He just adjusts his glasses with one finger and clears his throat.
“Since my salary became dependent on you surviving a literal snake pit, sir. I’m just looking out for my own retirement fund.”
A grim smirk touches my lips, vanishing just as fast.
“Just focus on handling Vanguard. I will handle Jonathan and the rest of my crazy family.”
He nods, redirecting his attention back to the road.
Ten minutes later, the Maybach pulls up to the towering glass skyscraper of Cross Holdings.
The sidewalk is a chaotic sea of flashing lights, oversized camera lenses, and microphones.
The press has formed a barricade right up to the revolving doors. Security guards are struggling to hold back the crowd as Noah steps out first, shielding the door.
The moment my boots hit the pavement, the shouting starts, intensifying the throb in my head.
“Sebastian Cross! Over here! Is it true you’ve officially reconciled with your father?”
“Mr. Cross! Did Bianca’s recent logistical failures play a role in her sudden demotion?”
“Are you prepared to take over the board of directors before the Q3 stock launch?”
I don't stop walking as the bodyguards form a tight wedge around me.
But to keep Nolan’s public relations strategy moving, I pause for a second right at the base of the steps, looking directly into the cameras.
“My assumption of the heir designation is a strategic alignment for the future of Cross Holdings,” I say, my voice carrying an authority that cuts right through the noise.
“The company requires a unified command structure to ensure market stability. Bianca’s restructuring is merely the first step in our new protocol.”
I turn to ascend the steps, but a reporter manages to shove a microphone past a guard's shoulder, shouting a question that turns the blood in my veins to liquid fire.
“Mr. Cross! Is it true that your father, Jonathan Cross, knew something about your mother’s mysterious death? Did he use that information to force you into this position?”
I stop dead in my tracks.
The air around me seems to freeze.
I turn my head slowly, my eyes locking onto the reporter’s face with a murderous look that makes the man instantly take a step back, his hand shaking around the microphone.
The flashing cameras catch the fury in my jaw. I don't say a single word, but the silence I give him is more dangerous than any verbal threat.
“Move,” Noah barks as he and three huge security guards shove the press back, creating a path as they push me through the revolving doors of the lobby.
The moment the glass doors spin shut, the deafening noise of the street is cut off, replaced by the sterile, echoing quiet of the atrium.
Employees are standing near the elevators, whispering in hushed tones, their eyes wide as they watch me walk past. I don't look at any of them.
I storm straight toward the elevators, my mind roaring with the reporter's question, my fists clenched inside my pockets.
Jonathan thinks he can use everything I love to chain me to this throne, I think, my chest heaving as the elevator doors slide open.
He thinks he can use my mother's memory and Yasmin's safety to make me his perfect puppet.
Fucking monster.
I step into the elevator, and Noah slams his hand against the button for the top floor.
When the doors finally slide open, the atmosphere is thick with dread.
The legal teams and board secretaries are scurrying around with folders, looking like soldiers preparing for an execution.
I make a straight line toward the main boardroom for the emergency transition meeting Jonathan told me about yesterday.
Until a figure suddenly steps out from the corridor on the left, blocking my path.
I stop.
It’s Beauty.
She isn't wearing her usual immaculate outfit today. Her blazer is unbuttoned, hair slightly undone, and her fingers are clenched around a glass of scotch despite the early hour.
Her face is pale with a mixture of humiliation and hatred. But as she walks closer, a devilish smile tugs at her lips.
“The golden boy returns,” she scoffs, her voice dripping with venom as she steps right into my personal space, completely ignoring Noah’s warning movement behind me.
“I must say, I am thoroughly impressed, Sebastian. I’m sure you must be incredibly happy with yourself right now.”
I look down at her, my expression completely dead.
“Get out of my way, Beauty. I have a board to manage.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” she chuckles, a bitter sound that echoes through the empty hallway.
She takes a slow step around me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“Tell me, Seb... What exactly did you do to secure this position? I knew you hated this empire so much. I knew you swore you would never touch anything that belonged to Jonathan. So what changed overnight, brother?”
She stops circling and stands right in my face, her breath hot and reeking of liquor.
“Did you finally realize you couldn't beat him, or did he manage to bribe you with something you couldn’t resist?”
My jaw ticks slightly, and she notices. I can tell from the smug little smile spreading across her face.
“Oh, let me guess.” She laughs bitterly. “What could possibly tempt the great Sebastian Cross?”
She takes a slow sip of her drink before lowering the glass.
Then she looks me dead in the eye.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
My blood turns to ice and for a moment, neither of us says a word.
Beauty smiles.
“That’s it.” She nods to herself. “Father finally found the one thing you love more than your pride.”