Page 65 of The Cruel Heir
As I stepped into the boardroom, my presence alone shifted the balance. These men had built an empire on legacy, and I had just ripped their script to shreds by choosing my own path. Today, they would either accept that, or learn the hard way why I wasn’t a man they could corner.
The boardroom was already full. A row of older men sat at the head of the long, polished table, their expressions carefully neutral. An intern came racing in, eager to prove himself, and handed me a file with shaky hands. I took it and placed it on the table, ignoring it for now. A clear dismissal of the guy whose name I didn’t know.
I sat in my place at the head. Frankie stood behind me, arms crossed, silent but watchful.
Langford, the board’s unofficial voice, cleared his throat. "Sterling, we’re pleased you could join us. There have been… discussions regarding your future."
I leaned back in my chair. "Discussions?"
"Concerns," another board member interjected. "You’re in a unique position now. The Kingsley name carries weight, butwith your father gone, we need to ensure stability. That includes your personal life."
Langford leaned forward slightly, his gaze calculating. "We’ve taken the liberty of preparing a shortlist of suitable candidates. Women from bloodlines that bring power, wealth, and insurance to our interests."
An intern in a black suit stepped forward, placing a sleek black folder in front of me. I didn’t open it. Instead, I exhaled slowly, fingers drumming lazily against the wood, as Langford continued.
"First, Isabella Montclair. Her family owns a banking empire with international ties. Marrying into it gives us leverage with the European Central Bank, and a back door into IMF discussions."
"Next, Amelia Royce. Her family controls most of the state’s energy grid, and has lobbyists on every committee worth knowing. A marriage there turns policy into profit."
"Then Selene Vasquez. Her father controls the port authorities across four South American coastlines. With her, our imports remain uninterrupted, and we cut out the middlemen."
I leaned back in my chair, unimpressed. "You’ve been busy."
"It’s our responsibility to protect the Kingsley Family Trust," Langford said. "You need more than a name, you need a dynasty."
I smirked, and finally reached for the folder, then closed it. Pushed it away.
"I’m already married."
The room stilled.
Langford blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I leaned forward. "I’m married. And at the next society event, you’ll meet my wife."
Shock rippled. A younger member coughed, eyes darting.
Langford wasn’t amused. "Marriage isn’t private in our world. Who is she?"
I smiled. "Zara Kingsley. My wife. And the mother of my heir."
Absolute silence.
Frankie chuckled. I didn’t break eye contact with Langford.
"Your stepsister?" Langford said. "You married Zara Johnston?"
"I married Zara Kingsley."
Unspoken glances passed around the table. They knew who she was. And what she wasn’t.
Langford exhaled. "Sterling, you realize how this looks?"
"How does it look?"
"Emotional. Weak."
"I don’t do emotional. Zara is mine, and she carries my child. This is about legacy."
