Chapter 5 - The Heir of the Empire
The medical suite aboard the supercarrier *Aegis Sovereign* was state-of-the-art, surpassing the capabilities of any premier hospital in North America.
For two agonizing hours, a team of world-renowned obstetricians and neonatal surgeons worked in frantic coordination. Outside the frosted double glass doors of the operating theater stood a man whose presence made the armed guards stand at rigid attention.
Arthur Sterling was sixty-two years old, with silver hair cropped short, cold slate-gray eyes, and a charcoal bespoke suit that concealed a body hardened by decades of unforgiving warfare and corporate conquest. In his hand, he held a heavy crystal glass of neat bourbon, completely unmoving. His knuckles were pale, the only sign of the violent tempest raging beneath his stoic exterior.
The double doors swung open. The chief surgeon pulled off his surgical cap, his expression exhausted but triumphant.
"Sir Arthur."
Arthur’s gaze locked onto the doctor. "My daughter."
"She survived. The hemorrhage was severe, but we arrested the bleeding in time. She is stable, resting under mild sedation." The doctor paused, his lips curving into a respectful smile. "And you have a grandson. Seven months, small, but his lungs are strong. He’s in the incubator, fighting like a true Sterling."
A breath that Arthur had held for four years finally escaped his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, bowing his head in silence. When he opened them, the warmth of a grandfather was instantly replaced by the terrifying chill of an executioner.
"Bring my daughter to the private recovery suite. Station a full tactical detail outside her door." Arthur turned to his second-in-command, a sharp-featured man named Gabriel who stood waiting with a secure digital tablet.
"Gabriel."
"Yes, Sir Arthur?"
"Julian Vance. I want his financial existence erased by tomorrow morning. Every loan called in. Every shell company exposed. Every credit line severed. I want him to watch his empire rot while he still breathes."
"Consider it done, sir. What of the mistress?"
Arthur looked down at his watch, his voice chillingly devoid of emotion. "Cut off her family’s credit facilities in Paris and Geneva. Make sure she understands the true price of her ambition. But do not touch them physically yet."
"Sir?"
May you like
"My daughter spent three years suffering in silence," Arthur murmured, turning toward the recovery ward. "When the time comes, Elena will swing the blade herself."
***
