Chapter 3 - THE BOY IN THE CHAIR
The heavy skids of the helicopter slammed onto the Sterling estate helipad. Adrian didn't wait for the rotors to wind down. He unbuckled his harness and threw the door open, the silver watch burning a hole in his pocket.
Elena was right behind him, her heels clicking rapidly against the concrete.
The estate was eerily quiet. Usually, a succession night would be crawling with caterers, valet attendants, and the city’s elite. Instead, the sweeping marble corridors were completely empty. The only sound was the distant ticking of the grandfather clocks that lined the hallways.
"Where is the board?" Adrian demanded, pushing open the heavy mahogany doors to the main study.
He froze.
The massive, leather-bound Chairman's chair—the throne his father had ruthlessly occupied for forty years—was turned away from the door, facing the crackling fireplace.
"Father," Adrian said, his voice hard. "We need to talk about Julian."
The chair didn't move.
"Adrian, wait," Elena whispered, catching his arm. Her eyes were fixed on the floor near the desk.
Lying on the plush Persian rug was a small, worn wooden toy—a hand-carved airplane. It was identical to the one Adrian and Julian used to fight over when they were children.
Slowly, the heavy leather chair rotated around.
It wasn't Arthur Sterling.
Sitting in the oversized chair, his feet dangling miles above the floor, was a little boy. He couldn't have been more than six years old. He wore a slightly rumpled suit, his dark hair falling into eyes that were the exact, piercing shade of Sterling blue. He was clutching a small, worn backpack to his chest like a shield.
"Are you Uncle Adrian?" the boy asked, his voice trembling but remarkably brave.
Adrian felt the air knock out of his lungs. He walked forward slowly, dropping to one knee so he was eye-level with the child. "I am. What's your name?"
"Leo," the boy whispered. "My papa told me to come here. He said you were the only one who wouldn't be mad about the money."
Before Adrian could ask what he meant, the study doors burst open.
"Well, isn't this a touching family reunion."
Adrian whipped around. Standing in the doorway, flanked by two burly estate security guards, was his Uncle Marcus. Marcus had always been the black sheep of the senior Sterlings, bitter and endlessly greedy.
"Marcus," Adrian snarled, standing up and instinctively stepping in front of Leo. "What is going on here? Where is my father?"
Marcus smiled, a thin, cruel stretching of his lips. "Arthur had a mild stroke this afternoon, Adrian. He's at the private hospital. The stress of Julian's little... disappearance... was just too much for his heart."
"You did this," Elena said, her voice like ice. "You orchestrated the board vote tonight. You knew about the boy."
"I merely stepped in to provide stability," Marcus smoothly replied, adjusting his cuffs. "Julian clearly violated his exile by spawning this little complication. According to the trust bylaws, any unapproved heirs render the father's shares forfeit. The board has already drafted the paperwork. I am taking over Sterling Industries as interim CEO."
"I am the rightful heir," Adrian shot back.
"Ah, yes. The romantic who spent three years playing house in a slum," Marcus chuckled. "The board knows you're soft, Adrian. But don't worry. I've brought someone who can attest to exactly how naive you really are."
Marcus stepped aside.
From the shadows of the hallway, a woman stepped into the light. She was still wearing the stunning burgundy gown from the ballroom, though she now looked smug, her earlier panic completely erased.
It was Vanessa.
Adrian felt his blood turn to ice. "Vanessa? How did you get in here?"
Vanessa offered him a pitying look. "I told you, Adrian. I don't play poor. When a man in a very nice suit approached me outside the ballroom and offered me a real payday to tell him everything about your pathetic little apartment, I listened."
She reached into her cleavage and pulled out a small, tarnished silver key.
Adrian's breath caught in his throat. It was the key he kept hidden inside his hollowed-out bedpost.
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"You always were so secretive about that locked wooden box under the bed," Vanessa sneered. "Marcus thinks it might just be the leverage he needs to prove you're unfit to lead." She tossed the key to Marcus.
Marcus caught it with a grin. "Let's see what the golden boy has been hiding from his beloved company, shall we?"
