CHAPTER 162: I AM IN!!!

Flashback — Seven Years Ago, Norway, Oslo

The wind that swept through the city carried the faint chill of early spring — the kind that could bite through thin clothes and remind you how cold hunger really felt.

Thea walked along the cobblestone street of the city centre, her steps uneven, her head light. Her coat was torn at the sleeve, her shoes scuffed and stiff from the snow that had melted and dried over them too many times. She hadn’t eaten properly in days; her body moved on habit, not strength.

Around her, Oslo gleamed. Expensive cars purred at the curbs, lights spilled from glass-fronted restaurants, laughter and perfume floated through the air like things from another world — a world she was too far from.

She stopped by a fountain, her eyes drawn to a couple stepping out of a sleek black car. The sight made her freeze.

The man was tall, sharply dressed in a dark overcoat, hair slicked back. His face was handsome but cold, the kind that never smiled unless it was for power. On his neck, half-hidden beneath his collar, was a faint spider web tattoo. It caught the light when he turned his head — quick and sinister.

Beside him, the woman was elegant, wrapped in a fur coat, her heels clicking like the rhythm of command. Diamonds shimmered at her neck, and her gloved hand held a small luxury handbag — the kind that cost more than Thea could earn in a lifetime.

Behind them, two men in black suits followed closely, scanning the street with trained eyes.

They were heading toward a high-end restaurant when chaos suddenly broke the polished calm.

A thief — young, fast, desperate — sprinted out of the alley and barreled straight toward them.

The men in black moved, but not fast enough.

In one sharp motion, the thief snatched the woman’s handbag and bolted, darting down the street — directly toward Thea.

The man with the spider web tattoo smirked.

"How brave," he muttered in Norwegian, his tone mocking rather than impressed.

He lifted his hand, signaling his men.

One chased after the thief immediately, the other stayed behind to guard the couple.

The thief was quick, weaving through pedestrians. As he neared Thea, she froze for half a second — then something in her moved.

A flicker of instinct. Maybe anger. Maybe justice.

Her foot slid forward.

Thea tripped him.

The thief crashed face-first into the pavement, the luxury bag skidding across the cobblestones. The sound of the crowd gasping filled the street.

Thea blinked, swaying slightly as she bent to pick up the bag. Her hands were trembling. She turned and began walking toward the couple, her steps slow, her breath uneven.

One of the black-suited men had already caught the thief by the collar and dragged him aside.

Thea stopped in front of the couple, holding the handbag out with both hands.

Her lips parted, but before she could speak —

Her vision blurred. The world spun.

Her knees gave out, and she collapsed

to the ground.

The luxury bag slipped from her fingers.

The last thing Thea saw before darkness claimed her was the faint glimmer of the spider web tattoo... and the cold, unreadable eyes of the man looking down at her.

....

The machines around the bed beeped softly, a steady rhythm breaking the still air. White curtains fluttered faintly in the cold morning draft.

Thea’s eyelids fluttered open. Her vision was hazy at first — pale ceiling, sterile light, the faint scent of disinfectant. Then came voices, somewhere close.

"Is she alright, doctor?" a gentle woman’s voice asked.

The man in the white coat nodded. "She’s fine. She fainted because of extreme hunger — she hasn’t eaten properly for several days." He paused, glancing at the clipboard. "She looks like a minor. Should I inform child protective services?"

"That won’t be necessary," the woman said quickly.

The doctor looked up as Thea’s fingers twitched, her head turning slightly. "Looks like she’s conscious now."

They both stepped inside the room. The woman was elegantly dressed — a long beige coat, soft blonde hair tied neatly behind, and eyes full of warmth. She smiled as she saw the frail girl sitting up slowly.

"My name is Astrid," she said softly. "What’s yours?"

Thea blinked a few times, still dazed. Her voice came out small and fragile.

"Thea."

Astrid’s smile widened. "Thea — that’s a beautiful name. You know what it means, right?"

Thea shook her head. "No..."

Astrid chuckled lightly. "Oh my, it means ’a divine blessing.’" She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Thea’s face. "And you do look like one to me."

Thea’s lips curved into the faintest smile. "Ma’am, I’m sorry for troubling you like this. I... I can’t afford this, but I’ll pay you back one day. I promise."

Astrid shook her head, eyes gentle. "You don’t need to pay anything, dear. You helped me first. Tell me — where are your parents?"

The light faded from Thea’s eyes. Her voice trembled. "I’m an orphan, ma’am. My orphanage... it burned down last week. Some people came at night — I don’t know why. I jumped from the window and ran. I couldn’t save anyone. I’ve been running since. They’re still looking for me."

Her hands gripped the bedsheet, tears streaking her face.

Astrid’s heart ached. She leaned forward, brushing Thea’s hair softly. "Don’t worry, dear. No one is going to hurt you now."

"Yes... no one can hurt you," a deeper voice said from behind them.

They turned.

A man stepped into the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark suit and gloves. His presence filled the room immediately. On the side of his neck, faint but unmistakable, was a spider web tattoo.

His tone was calm, almost polite. "I’m Bjørn, her husband. Thank you, for what you did out there."

Thea lowered her gaze shyly. "I’m Thea."

Bjørn nodded approvingly. "The thief was caught — all thanks to you. Rest now. The nurse will bring you food soon."

Then he turned slightly. "Dear, may I have a word with you?"

Astrid followed him out into the hallway.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

Bjørn looked down the corridor before speaking. "I heard her story. I’ve already checked. What she said is true."

Astrid’s eyes softened. "And the thief?"

"He’s in WEB custody now. We’ll find out soon enough if he was planted or just another fool looking for a quick score."

Astrid took a small breath. "So... can we take her home?"

Bjørn’s expression stiffened. "I know you’ve grown fond of that child, Astrid, but we can’t just bring anyone into our lives."

Her eyes filled with quiet frustration. "We can’t have a child, Bjørn. You know that. We decided to adopt — but every time, you find a reason to avoid it. And now... she comes to us like fate itself — a divine blessing, just like her name. Why can’t we take her in? Please, dear."

Bjørn stared at her for a long moment. The edge in his gaze softened. He sighed.

"Alright. I’m doing this for you. But before we adopt her officially, I’ll run a full background check. Everything. Understand?"

Astrid smiled faintly, relief washing over her features.

"That’s all I ask.

Late Night — Oslo Hospital

The corridor outside was quiet, washed in the pale blue glow of the emergency lights. The beeping of machines and the soft hum of the heater were the only sounds in the room.

Thea lay on the bed, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come easily — not after everything. The events of the day felt too unreal: the strangers, the hospital, the food waiting on the side table she hadn’t touched yet.

Her thoughts were drifting when—

Knock.

A single, soft sound at the door.

Her body tensed. Another faint tap. Then silence.

Thea sat up slowly. Her bare feet touched the cold floor as she looked toward the door. Something thin and flat had slid in through the narrow gap at the bottom.

She hesitated. Then walked closer.

It was a small brown envelope — no name, no mark, sealed with a strip of dark tape.

Thea knelt, picked it up, and tore it open carefully.

Inside was a black phone. No SIM logo, no manufacturer mark, just matte and silent.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held it.

She pressed the power button.

The screen came to life immediately, no lock screen, no apps — only a single number saved in the call log.

She hesitated for a moment longer, then tapped it.

The phone rang once.

Then a deep voice answered.

"Say."

Thea smiled faintly, her eyes glinting in the half-darkness.

"I’m in."

The line went dead.

Present — Citadel City, Sterling Grand Estate

The great balcony hall of the Sterling estate glowed under the noon light that spilled through its high glass walls. The room was lined with portraits of the past patriarchs, each framed in gold and silver, watching from the walls like silent judges of the generations that followed.

Today, every branch of the Sterling family tree had gathered — the elders, their wives adorned in pearls and pride, the second generation men in their suits whispering business strategies instead of blessings, and the third generation, restless, watching, calculating.

The massive oval table gleamed, polished to perfection. At its head sat Gordon Sterling, father to the current patriarch — calm, stoic, age showing in his face but not in his voice. Behind him, slightly to the right, sat Silvey, poised and quiet. Beside her, the seat meant for David Sterling — her father — remained empty, his absence heavy and unspoken.

Further down the table, Chester Sterling sat with folded hands, his sharp eyes reflecting quiet calculation. Next to him, Kyle Sterling, his son, leaned back in his chair, looking every bit the confident businessman — chin high, smirk faintly tugging at his lips.

Around the hall, soft murmurs floated between relatives. They weren’t talking about Gordon. Nor David.

They were talking about the empty chair — placed directly opposite Gordon’s.

The chair meant for Miles Sterling.

"Who is he exactly?" someone whispered from the right side of the table.

"I heard he’s from the abandoned branch," another replied, voice hushed but curious.

"Then why reserve him a seat like that?"

"Because Gordon ordered it himself. Said he’s family."

Gordon’s gaze shifted toward the grand clock on the far wall. The golden pendulum swung steadily — ten minutes to noon.

His eyes lingered on the time, expression unreadable.

Across the table, Kyle hid a grin behind his glass of wine.

"So much for the prodigal son," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Chester to hear. "Looks like the boy never made it to Citadel after all."

Chester gave a faint, measured nod.

"Patience, Kyle. Even storms make noise before they arrive."

Kyle leaned back again, confident. "If he doesn’t walk through that door in the next ten minutes... the meeting goes my way."

Gordon’s fingers tapped once on the table, a signal for silence.

"All members present?" he asked.

One of the aides checked the list, hesitated slightly. "Everyone, sir... except for Mr. Miles."

Gordon’s eyes flicked toward the empty seat again, thoughtful.

He didn’t speak — but Silvey noticed the faint shadow cross his face.

The ticking of the clock filled the grand hall.

Each swing of the pendulum was a beat closer to decision, closer to power shifting.