CHAPTER 154: INVITATION!!

The Sterling family’s power didn’t bloom overnight — nor did it begin with this generation. Its roots ran deep, tangled with ambition, betrayal, and bloodlines that shaped the foundation of their empire.

The current patriarch, David Sterling, stands as the head of the family — or at least, he did until his recent accident placed him in the hospital. David’s rise to power came after the retirement of his father, Gordon Sterling, a man known for his calculated restraint and relentless business acumen.

But Gordon was not the eldest son of the family. That title belonged to Timothy Sterling, Miles’s grandfather — a man of brilliance and rebellion who, decades ago, was abandoned by the family after defying its rigid traditions. His disappearance from the public eye erased an entire bloodline from the Sterling name... at least on paper.

Gordon, younger than Timothy, inherited the family’s reins after the fallout. His rule restored order but also created rifts that never healed.

Their younger cousin, Chester Sterling, father to Kyle Sterling, was the opportunist of the generation — the one who understood business more than blood, politics more than pride. He aligned himself closely with Gordon, ensuring that his own branch of the family would never fall behind.

And so, while the Sterling family expanded, their hierarchy narrowed. Daughters were never considered for inheritance — they were simply married into other powerful families, forming alliances that strengthened the Sterling name, but never carried it forward.

Now, with David Sterling lying unconscious in the SYND Private Hospital, the family stands at another turning point.

The position of Patriarch, once decided by birthright, will soon pass to Kyle Sterling, Chester’s ambitious son — a man whose influence has already started to seep into every corner of the Sterling empire.

The board has begun to shift again.

The bloodline that was once divided... may soon collide.

Citadel City — Chester Sterling’s Manor

The night outside was calm, but inside the grand Sterling manor, silence had a different weight.

The chandeliers glowed faintly, their warm light spilling across the polished mahogany of the drawing room table. Heavy curtains swayed softly against the cold night breeze seeping through the half-open window. The scent of old books, cigars, and vintage whiskey hung thick in the air.

At the center of it all sat Chester Sterling, the man who had once been called the family’s shadow strategist. Time had silvered his hair, but his posture remained proud, his eyes sharp and calculating even behind the faint fog of the cigar smoke curling upward. A man built by discipline, tempered by quiet ruthlessness.

Across from him, his son Kyle Sterling leaned back in his chair, a half-empty glass of bourbon in hand. The amber liquid caught the light each time he swirled it, slow and deliberate. His jacket hung loosely from the chair, his tie undone, the expression on his face somewhere between confidence and exhaustion.

The table between them was scattered with papers, stock reports, and a glowing tablet showing the family’s updated financial records. But for a long moment, neither man spoke.

Only the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the mantle filled the silence.

Kyle broke the silence first, his tone sharp, edged with impatience.

"So, Dad, tell me — what is it this time? Why did you call me here?"

Chester leaned back slightly, his hand brushing the cigar ash into the tray.

"So I can’t call my own son for a talk?"

Kyle let out a scoff and threw a glance of irritation.

"Stop the emotional drama, Dad. Just tell me what’s going on."

Chester sighed slowly, a long exhale that sounded more like disappointment than fatigue.

"It’s about the Sterling Enterprises in Star Harbor."

Kyle’s gaze lifted, his eyes narrowing.

"What about it?"

Chester’s voice remained level, detached.

"It’s run by elder cousin Tim’s grandchild — Miles Sterling."

Kyle frowned, leaning forward, glass still in hand.

"So?"

Chester extinguished his cigar and met his son’s eyes.

"We’ve decided to invite him to the family meeting."

The glass hit the table with a sharp clink, spilling a trace of amber liquid onto the wood.

Kyle’s tone turned venomous.

"Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you invite a brat from the abandoned branch of the family?"

Chester didn’t flinch.

"I had the same question, but it’s already been decided. Gordon pushed for it himself."

Kyle clenched his jaw.

"That old man’s losing his mind."

Chester ignored the remark.

"Miles has achieved quite a lot for his age. His businesses in Star Harbor are growing faster than any of ours. Sterling Enterprises under his management has expanded into sectors even the ACE Group couldn’t touch. There’s no other Sterling bloodline left in that branch — and that gives him a certain... purity in the family’s eyes."

Kyle leaned back, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrest, lips curling into a sarcastic smirk.

"So what? They think he’ll save the family name now?"

Chester folded his hands, lowering his voice.

"You’re missing the point. With his influence in Star Harbor, we wouldn’t have to waste resources establishing another base there. He’s unmarried, with no heir, no attachments. If we bring him back into the fold..." Chester’s eyes darkened, "...we can take what’s his, easily. All it takes is patience — and the right timing."

For a moment, silence returned — then Kyle chuckled, low at first, then louder, until his laughter echoed through the grand room.

"Dispose of him after he’s served his purpose, huh?"

Chester allowed himself a thin smile.

"He’ll think he’s being welcomed home. He won’t even see the knife coming."

Kyle swirled the last sip of whiskey in his glass before finishing it in one gulp. He set the glass down gently this time, his grin widening into something far colder.

"What an amazing idea, Dad. Let him come. I’ll make sure he never walks away with anything that belongs to me."

Chester leaned back, a glint of approval in his eyes.

"That’s my boy."

The two men laughed — quietly at first, then louder, their voices mingling with the low hum of the thunder outside.

It was the laughter of two predators preparing for the hunt.

Star Harbor - Pearl Villa

Midnight wrapped the city in a quiet blanket. Miles sat by the bedroom window, the city lights like scattered coins below him. The small white pouch lay beside his hand on the nightstand, harmless and heavy at once. He kept glancing at it, as if the cloth might move and whisper answers.

He thumbed through his call log. Thea’s number was there — dialed, unanswered. The call had never connected. He tried to tell himself she had already flown out, that she would call back later. Rational thoughts, tidy and easy. But something in him remained unconvinced. If she had wanted to go, why leave a package addressed to him? Why risk a quiet lunch at his restaurant? Why step away from a client?

Questions piled up like stones. Is she truly part of the WEB? Is she playing a double game? Did she push against her employers for him — or was this all a careful chess move to stir a fight between him and Kyle Sterling? The possibilities were tangled, and every answer he found only raised more questions.

He turned the pouch over in his hands and decided, for now, not to pry. His phone buzzed and lighted the room. He almost didn’t pick it up, then he did.

"Hello, can’t sleep?" Monica’s voice came through, half teasing, half sharp.

"What, I called you because I know you didn’t sleep yet," she continued before he could answer. "Don’t think too much, boss. If she’s helping you, maybe she’s against Kyle Sterling. Maybe the WEB is playing both sides, trying to make you and Kyle fight it out while they cut their profit. There are a thousand ways this could go. Be alert. Be ready for the family meeting."

Miles listened, the city reflected in the glass beside him.

"You’re going to Citadel City," Monica pressed on. "Where your grandfather came from. What are you really planning to do?"

He breathed out, slow and sure. "I have a few things in mind. One thing is certain — I’ll destroy Kyle Sterling forever."

There was a beat of silence, then Monica’s voice softened. "I’m with you, boss. We’re close to... revenge."

A small smile ghosted across Miles’s face despite the fatigue. "Yes."

"Now put that pouch somewhere safe," Monica ordered gently. "Away from your eyes. And sleep."

"How did you know I’d have it right there?" he asked, half amused.

"I know you well, boss," she said. "Good night. Try to get some rest."

"Good night, Monica," he replied. "You get some rest too."

He placed the pouch in the top drawer of his desk, tucked beneath old papers and a stack of business reports — out of sight, but not out of reach. Then he turned off the lamp, let the darkness close in, and for the first time that night he allowed himself to listen only to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

The sunlight poured gently through the large living room windows, painting golden streaks across the marble floor. The faint sound of birds from the garden mixed with the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen — the calm, ordinary sound of home.

Miles came down the stairs, shirt sleeves rolled up, still brushing off the last traces of sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, Mom," he said, his voice low but warm.

Elena looked up from her cup of tea, her smile as soft as always. "Good morning, son. Did you sleep well?"

Miles nodded lightly. "I slept well, Mom."

She gestured toward the coffee table beside the couch. "There’s a mail for you."

Miles slowed his step. "Mail?"

"Yes," Elena said. "An envelope. It came this morning."

Miles walked over, curiosity knitting his brows. On the corner of the cream-colored envelope, pressed in deep silver wax, was a crest of the Sterling family that he had seen in the letter left by his grandfather. The air seemed to still for a moment. Miles’s eyes lingered on the emblem, his fingers brushing over the mark as if confirming what he already knew. The invitation had come — the call from Citadel City.

He slipped the envelope into his hand, his expression unreadable.

Elena watched him. "What is it?"

Miles turned, forcing a faint smile. "Nothing, Mom. Just some business-related things."

Elena didn’t press further, though her eyes followed him as he started walking toward his study. "Alright then," she said softly. "Don’t skip breakfast."

Miles gave a small nod, his steps quiet but steady as he disappeared down the hall — the unopened letter still in his hand.