CHAPTER 165: DISRESPECT??

Gordon Sterling, standing at the center of the room, frowned slightly. "What do you mean, Miles?" he asked, his tone calm but layered with confusion.

Miles uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Gordon’s.

"You decided to bring me back into the family," he said slowly, "just because I’m successful now."

He tilted his head, that faint smirk returning. "Do you think I’m a fool?"

A few gasps came from around the table.

The tension thickened instantly — no one had ever spoken to Gordon Sterling like that.

Gordon’s brows furrowed. "Miles, it’s not like that—"

Before he could finish, Chestor slammed his palm on the table.

"You brat!" he barked. "Do you not know how to speak to your elders? You should be grateful that we’re even giving you a chance to join back into this family."

His voice grew louder, echoing through the hall. "Instead of thanking us, you dare act disrespectful? Like grandfather, like grandson. We shouldn’t have called you here in the first place!"

The room stiffened.

A few of the younger members looked down, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

But Miles didn’t flinch.

He stood his ground, staring at Chestor with the kind of cold, controlled glare that made even older men feel uneasy.

Gordon raised a hand. "It’s fine, Chestor," he said quietly. "It’s right for him to be angry."

Chestor shook his head sharply. "Angry? Brother, no one — no one — has ever questioned the elders like this. Are you being too lenient with him? The rules of this family are for everyone!"

Miles tilted his head, his tone casual but laced with venom.

"You?" he said slowly. "Don’t talk about rules to me, Chestor."

He took a step forward, his shoes tapping softly against the marble floor.

"Look at yourself — you’ve broken more rules than anyone in this room, and now you’re standing there giving lectures about family rules?"

Chestor’s face went pale for a second. His composure cracked, but he quickly straightened, masking the flicker of guilt with forced calm.

"You... do you know what you’re saying, boy?" he hissed. "You’re making a serious allegation against an elder of the Sterling family."

Miles exhaled slowly through his nose, almost like he was tired of pretending.

He looked at Gordon again, his voice steady and sharp.

"The Sterling family has rules, right? Then let’s talk about them."

He turned slightly, addressing everyone in the room.

"Tell me if these things go against the prestigious rules of the Sterling family. Because honestly—"

He gave a faint, humorless smile.

"No one ever bothered to teach me those rules."

At that, Silvey, sitting quietly among the younger generation, bit her lip, almost laughing at the irony of Miles’s words. She quickly looked down, but a faint chuckle still slipped past her.

"Silvey," Gordon said sharply, raising his hand slightly. "Enough."

She straightened immediately, hiding her smile, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement.

The rest of the family was divided — some whispering among themselves, others watching Miles with a mix of discomfort and curiosity.

Gordon adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but firm.

"Alright then, Miles," he said. "Ask."

Miles leaned back in his chair, calm, the edge of a knowing smirk playing across his face. "Is it against the family rule," he began slowly, voice deliberate, "to be involved in illegal activities?"

Every eye turned toward him. A few of the younger relatives leaned forward, sensing something sharp beneath his tone.

Gordon’s expression hardened. "Absolutely. The Sterling family does not support or participate in illegal dealings. That is why we are what we are—clean, respected, untouchable."

Miles nodded once, as if confirming something within himself. "Ohh..." he murmured. "So what’s the punishment, then? If anyone—just hypothetically—breaks that sacred rule?"

The old man’s eyes narrowed. "My father wrote that rule himself. If any Sterling is found guilty of such acts, they will be abandoned—stripped of the Sterling name—and handed over to the authorities."

The air seemed to tighten.

At the far end of the table, Chester leaned toward his son, whispering, "What is he getting at, Kyle?"

Kyle forced a casual smirk. "Don’t worry, Dad. He’s bluffing. He’s got nothing. Even if he tries, there’s no proof."

His phone buzzed on the table beside him. He looked at the screen, frowned, and pressed decline.

Miles noticed. He smiled faintly.

Then, with a sharp clap of his hands that made several people flinch, he said, "Really? You’re all clean? And you truly believe in that rule?" He laughed—a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the hall. "Tell me, in what generation are you living, pretending to be pure saints while wearing blood on your shoes?"

The words hit the table like thunder.

Gordon’s voice rose, firm but warning. "Miles, I warn you. Do not cross the line by disrespecting the family code."

Miles’ smile faded. His eyes turned cold. "Disrespecting, right. If you respect the family rules so much—why have you never followed them?" His voice grew sharper, louder. "Tell me, what happens when the rot is not outside the family—but sitting right at this table?"

A stunned silence.

Gordon’s tone dropped lower, dangerous. "What do you mean, Miles?"

Miles leaned forward, eyes calm but burning. "I already know who will win today’s vote. I know the decision’s been fixed long before I arrived. But what you don’t know..."—he paused—"...is that the man you’re about to hand the throne to is a criminal. And you’re harboring him under the Sterling name."

The room erupted in murmurs.

Gordon slammed his hand on the table. "Be clear! What are you trying to say?"

Chester stood halfway, glaring. "He’s mocking us, brother! This boy came here to insult the Sterling legacy. Kick him out!"

Miles didn’t even glance at him. His eyes stayed locked on Kyle.

Kyle’s phone buzzed again. The same number. He hesitated this time—then declined once more.

Miles smiled coldly. "Don’t hang up next time, Kyle. You might miss something important."

He stood up, straightening his coat. "Since we’re all here, why don’t I show everyone something about the person you’re about to crown?"

He turned toward the aide standing by the wall. "Turn on the news, would you? Let’s watch a little something together."

The aide hesitated, looking toward Gordon for approval.

Gordon raised a hand. "Do it."

The television screens along the wall flickered to life. The family crest appeared for a second before switching to a live channel.

"Change it to Sterling Media," Miles said.

The aide pressed the remote. The bright logo of Sterling Media filled the screen.

At first, an advertisement was playing — a glossy commercial for Sterling jewelry, with glamorous models and soft piano music.

Chester scoffed loudly. "What nonsense! Why are we wasting time watching ads?"

Miles’ gaze didn’t move from the screen. "Give it a few seconds," he said quietly, his tone almost casual.

And then—

The screen flickered. The music cut out.

The voice of the news anchor rang through the grand hall, crisp and clear from the large flat screens lining the walls.

"Breaking news — this is a Sterling Media Exclusive Live Update. The report is coming directly from Brightvale City."

The chatter in the hall vanished into silence. The only sound left was the anchor’s voice, echoing under the marble dome ceiling.

"An hour ago, the authorities of Brightvale’s Financial Crime Division conducted a full-scale raid on ACE Finances, one of the most prestigious divisions of the ACE Group, a corporation long praised for its legacy and reach."

Every head turned slowly toward Kyle. His face stiffened, but he kept his expression composed — jaw tight, eyes unmoving.

"According to officials," the anchor continued, "the warrant for the raid was issued after numerous complaints were received from consumers claiming to be harassed and threatened by loan recovery agents associated with ACE Finances. The reports state these so-called ’agents’ were, in fact, former criminals with active criminal records."

The air thickened. A low murmur ran through the younger cousins seated near the back.

"Upon the arrest of one of these agents, authorities obtained a tip-off suggesting that illegal financial operations

were being conducted under the company’s management. Based on this information, the Financial Crime Division raided ACE Finances’ Brightvale office earlier today."

Miles folded his arms, standing by his chair — calm, collected, his eyes never leaving Kyle.

The screen now showed footage — police cars, armored vans outside ACE’s glass building, the company logo flashing across camera lenses.

"Early reports indicate that millions of dollars in undocumented cash have been seized. Investigators believe that ACE Finances has been acting as a laundering front — turning black money into white for its high-profile clients."

Gasps erupted around the table. Wives covered their mouths, younger relatives exchanged wide-eyed glances. Even some of the elders leaned forward, straining to hear every word.

The anchor continued relentlessly.

"Authorities have confirmed that the Managing Director of ACE’s Brightvale branch has been taken into custody for questioning. Sources tell us that the case has already been handed to the Central Financial Bureau for further investigation."

Then — silence.

Miles’ voice cut through it, soft but slicing.

"Okay, okay... turn it off."

The aide scrambled for the remote and switched off the television. The hall went completely still, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Miles turned, eyes sweeping across the table — stopping briefly on Chester, then finally resting on Kyle.

Gordon’s hands trembled slightly against the table. His head was down, expression shadowed, unreadable.

No one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe.

The silence was heavy — suffocating.

Finally, Chester’s voice broke through, sharp and defensive.

"This—this is fake! Don’t you all see? It’s his own media channel! He can say whatever he wants to ruin us!"

Miles tilted his head, smirking faintly.

"Oh really? Then why don’t you call the number on the screen and confirm it yourself, Mr. Chester?"

Chester’s jaw clenched. He looked at Kyle, searching for a word, a defense, anything.

Kyle’s knuckles were white around the edge of the table. His mind was racing — but his voice came out forced, cracking slightly.

"You... you—"

Gordon’s palm hit the table.

"Enough."

The single word carried more weight than any argument.

Everyone froze.

Kyle’s words died on his tongue.

The old patriarch raised his head slowly — and for the first time in years, the authority in his eyes was cold, razor-sharp.

The silence that followed was the kind that crushed men’s pride.

Miles didn’t look away.

He had made his move.

The rest — would crumble on its own.

To be continued...

[A/N — Hey everyone, if you’re reading this, it means you’ve been with me from the very start of this story, and honestly, that means a lot. I’m genuinely thankful to each one of you — especially those who’ve been supporting me through the privilege tier. I see your comments, I read them whenever I can, and it really makes me happy knowing some of you are enjoying this story, even though I still have a lot to learn as a writer. I know the Chapters aren’t that long sometimes, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t have a stockpile — I write every single day, after a full day at work, so there are times when the Chapters come out shorter than I want them to. If that’s ever disappointed you, I sincerely apologize. I’ll do my best to improve — to make the Chapters longer and better. Thank you for sticking around and believing in this story. I really mean it.]