Chapter 7 - The Desolation of Marcus Sterling
Upstairs in the holding corridor outside Clara’s ICU, the nine Sterling men looked like a row of broken clockwork toys.
Their bespoke suits were wrinkled, their hair disheveled, and the arrogant, untouchable aura that had defined their dynasty for three generations was utterly gone. They had been stripped of their phones, their credit cards, and their illusion of omnipotence.
When I stepped back out of the elevator, Marcus Sterling scrambled up from the plastic waiting room chair, his face a mask of frantic, humiliating desperation.
“Adrian!” Marcus cried out, taking a stumbling step toward me before two of my armed operatives stepped into his path, blocking him with silent, immovable authority. “You’ve frozen our accounts! You’ve locked us out of our corporate headquarters! What kind of monster are you?”
I stopped ten feet away, looking down at the patriarch who had terrorized his family and treated human lives like disposable commodities.
“I’m the monster you invited into your family,” I replied evenly.
Julian, the eldest brother, surged forward, his face purple with blind rage. “You can’t do this! We’re the Sterlings! We built this city’s commercial infrastructure! We’ll go to the press! We’ll go to the police!”
“Go ahead,” I said, offering a cold, humourless smile. “Tell the police about the shell companies you used to bribe city inspectors. Tell the press about the offshore accounts you hid from the IRS. See how fast federal investigators take an interest in your pedigree.”
Julian faltered, his mouth snapping shut as the terrifying reality of their financial exposure finally sank in. Every illegal maneuver, every shady tax evasion scheme, and every leveraged bribe they had used to build their empire was now neatly indexed in a digital dossier currently sitting on the desk of every federal prosecutor in Manhattan.
“You took everything,” Thomas whispered, his hands trembling violently as he stared at the floor. “Our homes are locked. Our credit cards are declining. We don't even have a car to leave this hospital.”
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“Welcome to the real world,” I turned my back on them. “You’ll be staying right here in this hospital until my wife wakes up. And if any one of you breathes a word in her direction that causes her even a fraction of the stress you inflicted upon her... you won't even make it to the Docks.”
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