Chapter 4 - The Final Card
Days passed, dragging Julian into a living hell.
He was evicted from his penthouse. His bank accounts were frozen down to the last cent. His mother was forced into a low-income shelter, weeping continuously, unable to comprehend why her son’s glorious empire had fallen apart overnight. Julian couldn't even sell his watch—the police had seized all his assets pending investigation into fraud charges filed by Sterling’s legal team.
Every door Julian knocked on slammed shut in his face. Former friends blocked his number. Business partners feigned ignorance. He was radioactive.
Living on the streets, wearing clothes he found in donation bins, Julian’s mind began to warp. Desperation slowly twisted into a dark, unhinged obsession.
“It’s not my fault,” Julian muttered to himself as he huddled under a bridge, clutching the cold metal of the rusty pruning shears he had kept in his pocket. “It was a trap. The old man set me up. He wanted to destroy me!”
He convinced himself that Arthur Sterling had intentionally baited him into that punch to ruin his life. The humiliation, the bankruptcy, his mother’s suffering—it was all Arthur’s fault.
If he was going down, he wasn't going down alone.
Julian spent three days stalking the perimeter of the Sterling Estate, a massive, heavily guarded fortress tucked away in the countryside hills. He watched the guard rotations, looking for a weak spot. His clothes were filthy, his face covered in a ragged beard, his eyes wild with desperation.
On the third night, a fierce thunderstorm battered the estate. The pouring rain turned the estate grounds into a muddy swamp, impairing the security cameras and driving the patrols indoors.
Julian sneaked through a small break in the perimeter fence near the glass botanical gardens—the place where Arthur kept his prized orchids.
Clutching a heavy metal wrench he had stolen from a construction site, Julian slipped into the dimly lit greenhouse. The smell of rich earth and blooming flowers filled the warm air, contrasting sharply with the freezing rain outside.
Through the glass partitions, Julian saw a silhouette.
It was Arthur Sterling. The old billionaire was alone, wearing his familiar denim overalls, standing near a pedestal containing a rare black orchid, holding a watering can. No guards. No security. Just a vulnerable old man.
Julian’s blood boiled. A dark, vengeful smile crept across his face.
“Found you, you old bastard,” Julian whispered, tightening his grip on the heavy wrench. He crept forward, his mud-soaked shoes making no noise on the wet brick path.
He raised the wrench high above his head, stepping up behind Arthur.
“This is for my life!” Julian screamed, swinging the metal bar down with all his remaining strength aimed right at the back of Arthur’s head.
CLANG!
A shockwave echoed through Julian’s arm, vibrating down to his bones. The wrench hadn't hit flesh.
A massive, gloved hand had caught the heavy iron bar in mid-air with unbelievable speed and crushing force.
Julian gasped, staggering back. Standing behind Arthur wasn't just a regular guard. It was Marcus, along with three heavily armed tactical officers who stepped out from the dark shadows of the foliage, their crimson laser sights pointing directly at Julian’s chest.
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Arthur slowly turned around, set his watering can down, and wiped his hands on a towel. He didn't look surprised at all.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to show up, Julian,” Arthur said calmly, his voice cold as ice.
