Alexander swiped to answer, almost choking on relief. "Dominic! Brother, you have no idea what this ans. I need your help—these bastards, they've set up. You know I'd never—"
"Easy," Dominic's voice ca, calm but tired, the weight of the world hanging in it. "I know. You don't have to explain. I'll take care of everything."
Alexander gripped the phone tighter, throat thick. "I knew it. I fucking knew you wouldn't abandon . Thank you, Dom. Thank you."
There was a pause. Then Dominic spoke again, slower this ti. "Listen, Alexander… the higher-ups are pressing . They want to act. I can't stall them forever. The best thing you can do now is surrender—peacefully. Let arrest you."
It was like a slap. Alexander's face twisted with rage. "What?! You son of a bitch—you think I'm going to hand myself over like so lowlife? You dare—after everything I've done for you, for this city—you dare to treat like a criminal?"
"Alex," Dominic said firmly, cutting through his shouts, "calm down. This is an act. Do you understand? They want a show, fine—we'll give them one. You surrender, I put you behind bars, and then once you're inside, you'll be treated like a damn VIP. Private cell, luxuries, protection. Safer than any penthouse in the city."
Alexander's mouth opened, then closed. His anger wavered.
"The public's lost its mind," Dominic pressed, voice low, serious. "Crowds are foaming at the mouth. Soone will try to take a shot at you, maybe even inside your own security detail. I can't keep you safe out here. But inside? Inside, I control the board."
Alexander stared at his own reflection in the cracked desk, the vein in his temple pulsing.
Dominic's voice softened. "You know I've always had your back. I'll plant evidence, I'll fra whoever I need to. I'll find so poor bastard to take the fall. Just like we've done before. But for to do that, I need you alive. And right now, the only way you stay alive is if you walk into that cell on my arm."
Silence stretched between them. Alexander's knuckles turned white around the phone.
"…You swear?" he rasped, suspicion lacing his voice. "This isn't you selling out?"
"Alex." Dominic's tone hardened. "I've cleaned your sses for a decade. You think I'd stop now? Trust . Do this, and I'll make sure you co out clean again. Like always."
Alexander swallowed, chest tight. His pride scread at him to refuse. But a darker, colder part of him—the part that wanted to survive at any cost—clawed its way forward.
For the first ti in his life, Alexander Sterling considered surrender. All because he ssed with a kid who was the sa age as his son.
Alexander's jaw worked as he ground his teeth, hatred boiling in his gut. Every fiber of him wanted to spit in Dominic's face, tell him to fuck off, and fight this war with his bare hands if he had to.
But Dominic's words echoed in his head. You'll be treated like a VIP. You'll be safe. I'll clear your na, like always.
The old survival instinct whispered louder than his pride.
"…Fine," Alexander finally muttered, voice tight. "I'll play your little show."
Dominic let out the smallest breath of relief. "Good. That's the right call."
Alexander sneered at the phone, even though Dominic couldn't see it. "But don't think for a second I'm enjoying this. When this is over, they'll regret humiliating . Every single one of them. I'll co out of that cell cleaner than ever, and when I do…" His lips curled into a snarl. "…I'll burn this city to the ground."
"You'll get your revenge," Dominic said flatly, almost like he'd expected that outburst. "But first you survive. I'll send a squad. Keep your head down, don't resist, don't make it bloody. The dia will eat it up. By tonight, you'll be sitting comfortably in a cell that's safer than your mansion."
Alexander stood, brushing his hands down the front of his rumpled suit, glaring at his own reflection in the darkened window. His empire was cracking around him, his na dragging through the mud, and now—now—he had to walk out like a criminal in chains?
He wanted to smash the glass.
Instead, he straightened his tie, slicked his hair back, and forced a smirk onto his face. "Fine. Let them see. If they want a show, I'll give them the best fucking performance they've ever watched."
He ended the call and barked orders to his remaining n. Within minutes, they scrambled to clean him up—fresh suit, polished shoes, even a quick shave. Alexander Sterling would not walk out like a beaten man. He would walk out like a king temporarily stepping off his throne.
And as the sound of sirens drew closer outside his estate, Alexander fixed his cufflinks and muttered under his breath, "Enjoy your little victory, Xavier. Enjoy your mont. Because when I rise again… I'll make sure you choke on it."
The convoy rolled down the quiet stretch of road leading to Alexander's estate. Black SUVs in front, police cruisers behind, their lights flashing against the early morning haze. Sirens wailed low, not frantic—asured. This wasn't a raid. It was a theater.
Reporters were already there, cramd against the barricades. Caras rose like a forest of tal arms, live feeds streaming across every channel, every platform. The crowd was larger than expected—angry faces, furious chants, homade signs sared with MURDERER, EXECUTE HIM, JUSTICE FOR XAVIER.
The front gates creaked open.
And there he was.
Alexander Sterling walked out flanked by two officers, his chin lifted high, suit pristine, not a hair out of place. He looked less like a criminal being taken in and more like a politician on the campaign trail. The caras loved it—every step caught, every fra broadcast.
The crowd didn't buy the act.
"Traitor!" soone scread. A plastic bottle soared past him, bouncing off the hood of a cruiser. Another voice bellowed for his death. The chants grew louder, rawer. The cops tightened formation, shoving back against the crowd pressing at the barricades.
Alexander didn't flinch. He smirked. Smile for the caras, let them think you're unshaken.
He raised his cuffed wrists just slightly, presenting them like a mock crown. "All for you," he mouthed to the sea of caras.
The reaction was volcanic. Boos, curses, more bottles flying. One man tried to leap the barrier before getting tackled to the ground. dia anchors' voices cut over live footage, tripping over each other:
"—Alexander Sterling finally taken into custody—"
"—unprecedented public outrage—"
"—unconfird if this connects to the bounty scandal—"
The cops shoved Alexander into the back of the armored vehicle, slamming the door shut. The caras fought to catch a last glimpse, and in those few fras, the whole world saw it: Alexander Sterling, grinning like a man who still thought he'd already won.
The convoy pulled away, swallowed by sirens and flashing red-blue lights, leaving behind a screaming mob that wanted nothing less than blood.
While Alexander was being escorted to the Celestial Penitentiary, Dominic was sitting in his office. He was lost in deep thought with a serious look on his face, as though he was almost wondering about his existence.
And then, he sent a ssage to Xavier.
[I have done as you asked. Now, leave and my son alone.]
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