Gordon Sterling, standing at the center of the room, frowned slightly. "What do you an, Miles?" he asked, his tone calm but layered with confusion.
Miles uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Gordon’s.
"You decided to bring back into the family," he said slowly, "just because I’m successful now."
He tilted his head, that faint smirk returning. "Do you think I’m a fool?"
A few gasps ca from around the table.
The tension thickened instantly — no one had ever spoken to Gordon Sterling like that.
Gordon’s brows furrowed. "Miles, it’s not like that—"
Before he could finish, Chestor slamd his palm on the table.
"You brat!" he barked. "Do you not know how to speak to your elders? You should be grateful that we’re even giving you a chance to join back into this family."
His voice grew louder, echoing through the hall. "Instead of thanking us, you dare act disrespectful? Like grandfather, like grandson. We shouldn’t have called you here in the first place!"
The room stiffened.
A few of the younger mbers looked down, afraid to et anyone’s eyes.
But Miles didn’t flinch.
He stood his ground, staring at Chestor with the kind of cold, controlled glare that made even older n feel uneasy.
Gordon raised a hand. "It’s fine, Chestor," he said quietly. "It’s right for him to be angry."
Chestor shook his head sharply. "Angry? Brother, no one — no one — has ever questioned the elders like this. Are you being too lenient with him? The rules of this family are for everyone!"
Miles tilted his head, his tone casual but laced with venom.
"You?" he said slowly. "Don’t talk about rules to , Chestor."
He took a step forward, his shoes tapping softly against the marble floor.
"Look at yourself — you’ve broken more rules than anyone in this room, and now you’re standing there giving lectures about family rules?"
Chestor’s face went pale for a second. His composure cracked, but he quickly straightened, masking the flicker of guilt with forced calm.
"You... do you know what you’re saying, boy?" he hissed. "You’re making a serious allegation against an elder of the Sterling family."
Miles exhaled slowly through his nose, almost like he was tired of pretending.
He looked at Gordon again, his voice steady and sharp.
"The Sterling family has rules, right? Then let’s talk about them."
He turned slightly, addressing everyone in the room.
"Tell if these things go against the prestigious rules of the Sterling family. Because honestly—"
He gave a faint, humorless smile.
"No one ever bothered to teach those rules."
At that, Silvey, sitting quietly among the younger generation, bit her lip, almost laughing at the irony of Miles’s words. She quickly looked down, but a faint chuckle still slipped past her.
"Silvey," Gordon said sharply, raising his hand slightly. "Enough."
She straightened imdiately, hiding her smile, though her eyes still sparkled with amusent.
The rest of the family was divided — so whispering among themselves, others watching Miles with a mix of discomfort and curiosity.
Gordon adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but firm.
"Alright then, Miles," he said. "Ask."
Miles leaned back in his chair, calm, the edge of a knowing smirk playing across his face. "Is it against the family rule," he began slowly, voice deliberate, "to be involved in illegal activities?"
Every eye turned toward him. A few of the younger relatives leaned forward, sensing sothing sharp beneath his tone.
Gordon’s expression hardened. "Absolutely. The Sterling family does not support or participate in illegal dealings. That is why we are what we are—clean, respected, untouchable."
Miles nodded once, as if confirming sothing within himself. "Ohh..." he murmured. "So what’s the punishnt, then? If anyone—just hypothetically—breaks that sacred rule?"
The old man’s eyes narrowed. "My father wrote that rule himself. If any Sterling is found guilty of such acts, they will be abandoned—stripped of the Sterling na—and handed over to the authorities."
The air seed to tighten.
At the far end of the table, Chester leaned toward his son, whispering, "What is he getting at, Kyle?"
Kyle forced a casual smirk. "Don’t worry, Dad. He’s bluffing. He’s got nothing. Even if he tries, there’s no proof."
His phone buzzed on the table beside him. He looked at the screen, frowned, and pressed decline.
Miles noticed. He smiled faintly.
Then, with a sharp clap of his hands that made several people flinch, he said, "Really? You’re all clean? And you truly believe in that rule?" He laughed—a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the hall. "Tell , in what generation are you living, pretending to be pure saints while wearing blood on your shoes?"
The words hit the table like thunder.
Gordon’s voice rose, firm but warning. "Miles, I warn you. Do not cross the line by disrespecting the family code."
Miles’ smile faded. His eyes turned cold. "Disrespecting, right. If you respect the family rules so much—why have you never followed them?" His voice grew sharper, louder. "Tell , what happens when the rot is not outside the family—but sitting right at this table?"
A stunned silence.
Gordon’s tone dropped lower, dangerous. "What do you an, Miles?"
Miles leaned forward, eyes calm but burning. "I already know who will win today’s vote. I know the decision’s been fixed long before I arrived. But what you don’t know..."—he paused—"...is that the man you’re about to hand the throne to is a criminal. And you’re harboring him under the Sterling na."
The room erupted in murmurs.
Gordon slamd his hand on the table. "Be clear! What are you trying to say?"
Chester stood halfway, glaring. "He’s mocking us, brother! This boy ca here to insult the Sterling legacy. Kick him out!"
Miles didn’t even glance at him. His eyes stayed locked on Kyle.
Kyle’s phone buzzed again. The sa number. He hesitated this ti—then declined once more.
Miles smiled coldly. "Don’t hang up next ti, Kyle. You might miss sothing important."
He stood up, straightening his coat. "Since we’re all here, why don’t I show everyone sothing about the person you’re about to crown?"
He turned toward the aide standing by the wall. "Turn on the news, would you? Let’s watch a little sothing together."
The aide hesitated, looking toward Gordon for approval.
Gordon raised a hand. "Do it."
The television screens along the wall flickered to life. The family crest appeared for a second before switching to a live channel.
"Change it to Sterling dia," Miles said.
The aide pressed the remote. The bright logo of Sterling dia filled the screen.
At first, an advertisent was playing — a glossy comrcial for Sterling jewelry, with glamorous models and soft piano music.
Chester scoffed loudly. "What nonsense! Why are we wasting ti watching ads?"
Miles’ gaze didn’t move from the screen. "Give it a few seconds," he said quietly, his tone almost casual.
And then—
The screen flickered. The music cut out.
The voice of the news anchor rang through the grand hall, crisp and clear from the large flat screens lining the walls.
"Breaking news — this is a Sterling dia Exclusive Live Update. The report is coming directly from Brightvale City."
The chatter in the hall vanished into silence. The only sound left was the anchor’s voice, echoing under the marble do ceiling.
"An hour ago, the authorities of Brightvale’s Financial Cri Division conducted a full-scale raid on ACE Finances, one of the most prestigious divisions of the ACE Group, a corporation long praised for its legacy and reach."
Every head turned slowly toward Kyle. His face stiffened, but he kept his expression composed — jaw tight, eyes unmoving.
"According to officials," the anchor continued, "the warrant for the raid was issued after nurous complaints were received from consurs claiming to be harassed and threatened by loan recovery agents associated with ACE Finances. The reports state these so-called ’agents’ were, in fact, forr criminals with active criminal records."
The air thickened. A low murmur ran through the younger cousins seated near the back.
"Upon the arrest of one of these agents, authorities obtained a tip-off suggesting that illegal financial operations were being conducted under the company’s managent. Based on this information, the Financial Cri Division raided ACE Finances’ Brightvale office earlier today."
Miles folded his arms, standing by his chair — calm, collected, his eyes never leaving Kyle.
The screen now showed footage — police cars, armored vans outside ACE’s glass building, the company logo flashing across cara lenses.
"Early reports indicate that millions of dollars in undocunted cash have been seized. Investigators believe that ACE Finances has been acting as a laundering front — turning black money into white for its high-profile clients."
Gasps erupted around the table. Wives covered their mouths, younger relatives exchanged wide-eyed glances. Even so of the elders leaned forward, straining to hear every word.
The anchor continued relentlessly.
"Authorities have confird that the Managing Director of ACE’s Brightvale branch has been taken into custody for questioning. Sources tell us that the case has already been handed to the Central Financial Bureau for further investigation."
Then — silence.
Miles’ voice cut through it, soft but slicing.
"Okay, okay... turn it off."
The aide scrambled for the remote and switched off the television. The hall went completely still, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Miles turned, eyes sweeping across the table — stopping briefly on Chester, then finally resting on Kyle.
Gordon’s hands trembled slightly against the table. His head was down, expression shadowed, unreadable.
No one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe.
The silence was heavy — suffocating.
Finally, Chester’s voice broke through, sharp and defensive.
"This—this is fake! Don’t you all see? It’s his own dia channel! He can say whatever he wants to ruin us!"
Miles tilted his head, smirking faintly.
"Oh really? Then why don’t you call the number on the screen and confirm it yourself, Mr. Chester?"
Chester’s jaw clenched. He looked at Kyle, searching for a word, a defense, anything.
Kyle’s knuckles were white around the edge of the table. His mind was racing — but his voice ca out forced, cracking slightly.
"You... you—"
Gordon’s palm hit the table.
"Enough."
The single word carried more weight than any argunt.
Everyone froze.
Kyle’s words died on his tongue.
The old patriarch raised his head slowly — and for the first ti in years, the authority in his eyes was cold, razor-sharp.
The silence that followed was the kind that crushed n’s pride.
Miles didn’t look away.
He had made his move.
The rest — would crumble on its own.
To be continued...
[A/N — Hey everyone, if you’re reading this, it ans you’ve been with from the very start of this story, and honestly, that ans a lot. I’m genuinely thankful to each one of you — especially those who’ve been supporting through the privilege tier. I see your comnts, I read them whenever I can, and it really makes happy knowing so of you are enjoying this story, even though I still have a lot to learn as a writer. I know the Chapters aren’t that long sotis, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t have a stockpile — I write every single day, after a full day at work, so there are tis when the Chapters co out shorter than I want them to. If that’s ever disappointed you, I sincerely apologize. I’ll do my best to improve — to make the Chapters longer and better. Thank you for sticking around and believing in this story. I really an it.]
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