Chapter 6 - THE PRISONER OF THE STERLING ESTATE
Deep within the reinforced basement of the Sterling family mansion in Grosse Pointe, the air was damp and smelled of old paper and dust.
Sarah Parker woke up with a sharp throbbing pain at the back of her head. Her hands were bound behind her with heavy plastic zip ties, and a thick gag muffled her cries. As her vision cleared under the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb, she saw a familiar silhouette standing before her.
Arthur Sterling.
The aging patriarch of the Sterling dynasty leaned heavily on his mahogany cane, his cold, calculating eyes staring down at her with undisguised contempt.
“You never knew when to give up, did you, Sarah?” Arthur murmured, his voice smooth and venomous. “Eight years ago, I gave you a choice. Take the severance, disappear, and let my son marry into a family that matters. Instead, you slinked off into the slums like a rat, breeding more liabilities.”
Sarah struggled against her bonds, a muffled sound of rage escaping her throat.
“Oh, save your breath,” Arthur sneered, pacing around her chair. “Your little brat made a phone call tonight. He called Harrison. And now, my idiot son is tearing apart the city trying to find you. But he won’t find you in time.”
Arthur pulled a folded document from his tailored wool coat and tossed it onto the concrete floor in front of her feet.
“Sign these custody relinquishment papers, Sarah. Surrender all rights to Benjamin and the triplets, and declare that you extorted my son eight years ago. If you do, I’ll drop a few million dollars into an offshore account and let you live out your pathetic life in anonymity. If you don't…” Arthur smiled coldly. “...your children will be declared wards of the state, shipped off to foster care systems where no one will ever hear their names again.”
Sarah stared at the papers, tears of pure fury streaming down her face. She would rather die than give up her babies. She strained against the zip ties, her wrists bleeding against the sharp plastic, glaring at the billionaire with a defiance that momentarily made the old man flinch.
“You think you’ve won,” a voice boomed from the iron-reinforced doorway at the top of the basement stairs.
Arthur spun around.
Standing in the doorway, flanked by four heavily armed private security operatives, was Harrison Sterling. His face was a mask of icy fury, his eyes locked onto his father with murder in them.
“Harrison,” Arthur said, quickly regaining his composure and adjusting his lapels. “You’re trespassing. Put down your weapons and listen to me. This woman is a parasite trying to destroy everything we’ve built—”
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“Shut your mouth, old man,” Harrison whispered, stepping down the stairs.
Before Arthur could raise his cane, Harrison closed the distance between them with terrifying speed, shoving his father back against the concrete wall with enough force to knock the wind completely out of the tycoon.
